It terrifies me that we only get a limited amount of time with people. And that some people get more time than others who should have. I’m forever envious of those who’ve gotten more time with you than I have. That I may never get to be with you as long as they have. That our time is running out. And I miss you already. And I never want to say goodbye. At first it was slow, late nights in your car and afternoons in my bedroom. But now it feels like it’s happening all at once, like you’re doing a snow angel on my heart and it keeps getting bigger and bigger. Kissing on the sidewalk, holding hands in your coat pocket because I forgot to bring gloves. Wandering around museums and having hard conversations on your couch that make me love you even more; even when the air becomes glass, I can’t stop thinking about how lucky I feel to know you. That there’s no one else like you. My heart aches in your arms and aches when we’re apart. And I just want to be as close to you as possible, for as long as possible, because you are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, and I love who I am when I’m with you.

Its interesting to be in a home so different than mine. A home where almost always two people at least are in the living room, bonding. My family I love, but we are always in our respective corners; father in the basement, brother in his room, mother in the living space, and I around randomly, uncertain where and who to belong with.

This weekend I visit Hockey House, the affectionate name I'm giving my boyfriend's home. I mean it full of affection, because they are brought together by movies and food and especially hockey.

In my home we are only brought together by food and then we run to the hills for our alone time. Very odd entirely, because of the extroversion holding my heart.

I guess as I grow, I find a disconnect with the family who is so different from me. My mother, though the easiest to be with, can be a staunch, stubborn hypocrite when it comes to all things social. My father is a determined conservative who opposes all I believe in. Brother is being molded into the man my father wants as his son, which is slowly distancing me from him.

When I'm home, I'm a repressed me, who keeps her tongue latched inside her mouth, and keeps her head down as to not get attacked. Even the natural peanut butter I asked for became a battlefield of who was right and who was wrong, not just a happy cheer for me being healthier.

Its odd in a house I've only been twice I can be less afraid than in my own home. I guess things change when you become the person you want to be instead of the adult your parents want to be proud of.

Maybe its easier here because I care less if they judge me, while my parents judgment terrifies me. Parents tend to be scary gods who rule your life, and to let them topple in your eyes is something all more traumatizing to watch.

I still love my parents, as children do, but there's a disconnect between who we are that cannot be passed.

Love can exist everywhere, but it  cannot transcend all obstacles, and that, truly, is what terrifies me most.

I never want to lose my parents, but I cannot lose myself either.

Only time will tell, and I guess I'll just enjoy college and my times at Hockey House.

step number one: read the book wintergirls.
tuck away every detail like you're cramming for a test.
dog-ear the pages and carry it with you like a travel guide.
decide that with your fingers and toes always icy cold for as long as you can remember,
you were destined to be a wintergirl.
reread it periodically, for inspirational purposes.

step two: download the myfitnesspal app.
use it to track every calorie you put into your body.
memorize that an oreo has seventy calories, an apple has one hundred, a cup of hot chocolate has eighty,
a bagel has two hundred seventy (a number that terrifies you),
and on and on and on.
let numbers float behind your eyes just before you go to bed,
and let them stay there as you throw off the covers to do guilty pushups and situps in your room
for twenty minutes (burning one hundred and twenty calories).
ignore the warnings shouted at you in red text
when you eat less than twelve hundred calories per day.
look at the projections it gives you for five weeks from now
with weights that seem both too small and too large at the same time.
when your net for the day hits the negatives after weeks of trying,
feel the slightest pang of satisfaction.

step three: find your "thinspiration".
make a tumblr just to look at pictures of jutting-out spines and thigh gaps and ribs.
hold your phone up next to your reflection in the mirror
and pick out everywhere your body differs from hers.
when the girls on the fitness blogs start looking too heavy for your goal,
find the eating-disorder blogs.
obsess over their bodies almost as much as you obsess over yours,
but not quite as much.

step four: begin losing weight.
imagine yourself floating away, feather-light.
imagine yourself becoming skin and bones.
imagine this as you drag your heavy body from class to class,
as your muscles waste from malnutrition.
imagine this as you have to clean your hairbrush out
three times while you work tangles from your hair.
imagine this as you snap at anyone and everyone,
as you spend hours locked in your room.

step five: become a poet and write about yourself.
romanticize your own demons, just by calling them demons.
use as many metaphors as you can,
to avoid the harsh language of the truth.
and especially avoid writing about the crippling guilt
that hits you when you eat too much,
you're fat you're worthless you'll never be anything,
and hits you when you don't eat enough,
what's wrong with you how did you let it get to this point
voices in your head never abating.
avoid writing about your lack of motivation and constant exhaustion and always,
always, use words that imply mystery.
describe your mind as foggy, call your body diminishing.
never say it how it is, because you could convince yourself to quit.
never say that it's torture and you're in pain
and you just wish you were eight again, never considering this path.
never say that you need help but you don't want help.

if you have the urge to say these things,
say only that this disorder is not one you would willingly give up,
because you finally have something to control.
because it is the truth,
but it is also the romanticized truth.

Who cares for her shattered dreams when she is
Brutally ***** on the very first night?
Who cares for her preconception health when,
For him, the only activity is making her pregnant?

Who cares for her repeated abortions
Which results in cervical damage,
Which in turn makes her unable to carry
The weight of a later pregnancy?

Who cares for not to satiate his excessive lust
When she is pregnant, which can cause
Abortion and maternal mortality?

Who cares for prenatal care that can keep
Her unborn baby and herself
Healthy during pregnancy?

Who cares to relieve her excessive work load at home
And her ever expanding stress to provide
High-quality child care for her five or six other children,
From earlier pregnancies?

Who cares for her signs and symptoms of anemia,
Her fatigue, increased heart beat or palpitations
Paleness of inside of eyelids, gums and nail beds
Desire to eat indigestible or peculiar foods?

Who cares for her backache, increasing weight,
Change in her centre of gravity and powerlessness?

Who cares for her malnutrition, poor health,
Lack of education, overwork, mistreatment?

Who cares for her dental hygiene, her broken teeth,
For the baby grows within is another tyrant
Who grabs Calcium, even from her teeth and bones?

Who cares for her cramps and muscle spasm,
Heartburn and indigestion , insomnia?

Who cares for her needs to go to the toilet frequently,
As the growing baby reduces her bladder capacity?

Who cares her inability to get comfortable
When she has neither clean water nor safe sanitation,
And necessary support either from health services?

Who cares not to tense her,
Already she is suffering from all sort of
Tension and high blood pressure?
And her mother-in-law terrifies her again
The consequences if the newborn could be of a girl!
Sad, woman is the greatest enemy of
Another woman, in the most needed times!
If she dies, none is worried...
For he can marry once again!
More dowries, more *** and more kids!

Who cares for her post natal depression ,
As none to take care of the newborn and other kids,
She has to run for office and other workplaces
With heavy *******, pain and bladder infections?

Who cares that every pregnancy weakens her a lot
As she need some time to recover her health...
And on the very day she can spread her legs,
By force, he starts his activities again!
He knows how how to starve the newborn
Just by emptying her *******!

When things are like this,
Every religious clergy flays
The limiting of the family size by birth control!
Christians wish for a Christian world
Muslims dream for a new world under Islam
Hindus, Buddhists, Jews and
Every religious fanatic dreams of the same!
They offer gifts for women for bearing
More and more children
For more children is their cheapest weapon!

When will they dream for a HUMANE WORLD?

Healthy children need healthy mothers.
Healthy mothers need healthy food,
Loving husbands (optional!) and caring society
For true world is made of love!

There is a body floating in the water of Lake Michigan again, but no one is willing to fish it out.  There is a body floating in the pond near my subdivision again, but everyone already knew that anyway.  
        I am sitting eighty miles away, overlooking a city that is not mine, thinking about how the moon outside my window is the same moon that you can see from down below in your partially frozen-over dirt bed.  I am thinking about the vampire that sits in his apartment, chugging two-to-three bottles of blood a week, and wondering if he is haunted by the same ghosts as I am.  
        It’s taken me eighteen years to realize that I was infected with a different variation of his curse all along—I am less human and more lycanthrope than I would like to admit.  I am not like you, I am not like him, I am my own breed and that terrifies me.  (There are black cats prowling in my heart and fragments of mirrors in my liver and salt that bleeds from my heels when I walk.)
        No matter how many rabbits’ feet I tie to my keys, how many dreamcatchers I put above my bed, how many cloves of garlic I hang over my door, I am never able to rid myself of the chill that goes hand in hand with the phantom you left here.
        Mother, I think I killed a man two full moons ago and I haven’t been the same since.  I threw his body into the lake and watched him drift out into the unknown, watched the kraken drag him down, watched the water spew him back up like a cork.  And now I need you to make your way back to the land of the living to sit by my side.  I want you to cut off my head and make me a trophy animal.  Create a rug from my fur.  Eat my organs and freeze the rest for winter.  Use me for your own survival.  I just want to be helpful.
        I want to be everything the vampire was not but my fingers are breaking from holding on too tight.

                                                               ­                                          I should let go.

1.) You have the most loving heart. Your warmth, your gentle touch that you personify without words. Melts the supports of my heart

2.) Eyes of deep blue, that ensnare me and leave me thoughtless. How they change into everglade greens, and mystical greys. They're beautiful

3.) Few laughs may be as pure as your quiet giggle. The mere sound gives me goosebumps and a funny feeling in my stomach. You're so freakin' adorable

4.)The curves of a semi-circle aren't nearly as perfect as yours. You've worked alot for the perfect body. I simply need to ask... How can you make something that's something that is already perfect better?

5.) Spontaneous, unexpected and surprising. You keep me on my feet, keep me entertained and make me enjoy every second with you. Who knows what I am to expect?!

6.) Once upon a time, there lived to fluffy bunnies, they decided to leave their little hole and go out on an adventure. A wolf came along and bit of the rabbits head and it bled to death Its so dark, and it leaves you wondering what to think. I love your dark side. It both terrifies and intrigues me

7.) You're so intellectual. I love some of the things you say and more importantly write! You have an amazing capacity for knowledge and wisdom and you use it well. It baffles me, some of the connections you make in your essays and assignments

8.) My love you illustrate a maturity that surpasses your years. Pertaining to your ability to be responsible and reliable if and when - not that I ever am - clearly am not able to be. I think you're the one looking after me. I'm the older one, who just happens to have an 8yr old inside them~

9.) You smell amazing, but no. Seriously, you are in every way, shape or form. The most amazing, star studded, picture perfect, superbly sensational girl. I could ever have met. Yes, let the alliteration flow

10.) Because you're you, and you are *mine

beginnings
i see how we are.
We are cute.
We are "perfect" as everyone tells us.
But i see one problem.
i don't know how to love You.

i thought it would be easy:
after all my trials and tears,
i figured that i could love someone
if they loved me too.
Now i find that is not the case.
Now i find that even now i am still broken,
trying to keep from bleeding into Your own wounds.
Do i walk around on tiptoes trying to please You?
Do i hold my tongue while You hold me?
Maybe that is how i comfort You-
by forsaking my own.
Maybe i will grow to be this girl.
Maybe comfort is something that comes with the passing of time.
Time.
It always comes back to that.

After all,
i had my doubts.
God knows they were plentiful.
But now i look at You as if he stars aligned in Your eyes.
Your brown eyes.
How strange for me to like someone without eyes that remind me of water.
Water always brought me comfort as well as fear.
Maybe that is why i am always so drawn to them.
But now, as Your hands mesh with mine,
the world meshes with understanding.
Things seem...
okay.
That hasn't happened in oh so long.
i may have had spurts of happiness.
A period of contentment here and there.
Okay is a much different feeling.
But beyond this touch, how do i comfort You?
Do i touch the deepest parts of Your consciousness?
Will i ever touch Your unconsciousness?

i see our story.
i can picture it enveloping
days
or weeks
or months
of our lives.
And maybe that just makes me a silly schoolgirl.
But you know what?
This time,
i don't care.
Hurt me.
End up hating me.
Break me like i've been broken before.
But right now,
hold me like i am everything you have ever wanted
because i am starting to think
that you are everything i need.
i've given You more than anyone has ever had from me.
Do not make me regret it,
that is my one request.
i've never been happier.
Please don't ruin that for me.
Continue to treat me like a princess because as cliché as it is,
it's a worthwhile surprise.

The way i've fallen for You-
oh it's a mystery.
i lose all reminiscence of self-control with i’m with You.
i never expected the happiness that accompanies Your name.
i wasn't aware that i had the option
to be happy;
to heal;
to love.
But that's what i have now.
This is my life.
Who would have thought i could be this content?
This okay?
When i look at You i see someone i could fall in love with.
But that terrifies me.
Please don’t make me fall in love with you.
We're both broken,
but maybe we can temporarily heal each other.

i never thought i would mean
anything
to
anyone.
Why would i?
i am nothing special:
an average girl with impossible dreams.
i didn't expect You to treat me so wonderfully.
i didn't think i deserved that,
so i didn't expect it.
But You,
lovely You,
made me see that i deserve to be treated like the person You see me as.
You keep saying that You are worried that You could be treating me better,
well i am here to say that You have treated me better than i ever imagined
and i couldn't ask for more.
i never saw myself as being respectable
or deserving of love.
Yet somehow You saw me from afar
and decided You would be the one
to open my lifeless eyes.

update: I'm still learning to love
i am not used to these emotions and it scares the heart out of me.
i’m scared of happiness.
How ****** up is that?

But let’s go back to what i’ve said before:
“How do i make You happy?”
i was never going to be good enough for You.
How am i supposed to measure up now?

i know:
i’ll hide the scars
to protect You from worrying.
That’s my gift to You.
And i hope You never have the chance to say
“thank you.”
Could You really not see?
You are so easy to fool.
I could put scars anywhere on my body
and you would ask the same question
"did I do that?"
What a life it must be to not know
what the marks mean when they are right in front of You.
Think.
No, You didn’t do them.
And they aren’t cat scratches, darling.
Think.

i may scare You away
and i may not have the strength
to beg You to stay.
i’ll try to be better for You.
i’ll try to be the girl You see.
i’ll try to give You everything You need.
But I won’t let You in, let You know,
when doing so would just confirm
what i’ve been saying all along.
i. Am. Nothing. Good.

i will never be good enough for You
and i will always be crippled by the fear
of disappointing You.
Those are the fears i have never been able to
escape.
You don’t get it.
i am not someone that You want to love.
And as guilty as i feel about that,
i hope You always stay blind.

The melancholy’s dragging me down.
Please don’t let it drag you down as well.
i’d rather let you go that do that to You.
Today, i’m sorry that Your friends had to be the ones
to open Your eyes to how much of a mess i am.
But i think we are all kind of crazy,
not just myself.
And occasionally there is someone who matches Your unique flavor of crazy.
Oh and then things become magical.

i have found that people (me) are funny.
They crave love,
but reject it because they think they don’t deserve it.
What kind of strange sense does this make?
How odd to pick a person to give yourself to.
You.
i pick You to love me.
And You to hurt me.
You to heal me.
And You to break me.
i hate that You know me.
You know every inch of my skin,
but i’m still keeping the gates locked on my heart and soul
for as long as i can.

i am afraid that when this is all said and done,
i will despise all the little things i love about You.
i mean if we think in terms of reality,
this is going to end completely and utterly wrong.
There is no other outcome.
So is there really a point?
Why be happy now
only to be crippled by pain later on?
Can’t You see the pain in my eyes whenever i hear those words?
The way You romanticize death terrifies me.
So much of You is unknown,
so much of us is questionable.
But for now all i want is something of Yours
so that when i’m scared of losing You,
or ******* this up,
i can put it on
and fall in love with the comfort.

You told me one night in a low voice
(the one You use when You both remember or anticipate pain),
“i don’t want to be the mistake you made in high school.”
Oh love, i can assure You that i will be Yours.

Forelsekt (Norwegian): the euphoria you experience when you are first falling in love.
Words are strange and language is beautiful.
i think You have even described me in such a way…

at least i was Your first something
I had a panic attack yesterday
as I was driving you around.
I was stupid and don’t worry,
I know I deserved it.
I made a mistake
and we could have paid.
It was the first one I had had
in such a long time.
And the first one I had had
in front of you.
I think it may have been the first you had seen too.
I’m glad I could be your first something,
even something as broken and chaotic a panic attack.
But isn’t that what we are?
We’re both a whirlwind of broken chaos.

As the panic took over,
all I could think,
and what made it all the worse,
is that you must have thought I was insane.
“Did I make a mistake with this girl?
Everything’s okay now.
Why doesn’t she just calm down?”
Only crazy people panic for such a long time
(and it was; it was the longest attack I had ever succumbed to).
Only crazy people start shaking even once they’re safe
(although I am sure you didn’t feel all that safe).
Only crazy people so desperately grasp for air that is easily accessible
(even I can’t explain it).

Once,
I had a panic attack in front of a boy before.
And you know what?
All he said was,
“It’s no big deal.
Just calm down.
Why are you freaking out?”
But that’s paraphrased of course.
It happened months ago and after that,
I promised to save my broken moments for solitary
because I could not deal with someone whom I cared about
not caring about me.
But you didn’t do that.
You were kind and you were calm.
And yes a little confused,
but that’s to be expected.

You’ll always take care of me, won’t you?
You’ll always protect me, won’t you?
I’m beginning to see that now.
Who would have thought that anyone
would ever want to care someone
so **** broken to the very core?
Not me,
that’s for sure.

Thank you darling,
for you words
and your actions that prove to a hard heart
that maybe love is real.
And maybe someday,
I’ll feel it too.
I want it to be you I fall in love with.
But right now,
I’m still closed in my tiny, claustrophobic cell
that I constructed around myself for the past few years.
I built it up with every harsh word,
and every bad day,
and every painful moment.
But if anyone can push through it,
babe it might be you.
So again, thank you
for you.

for you**
Is it really 2014?
Wow.
I made it this far.
That may be my greatest accomplishment.
It hasn't been easy.
Nature is telling me no,
and well nurture has yet to be a kind, nurturing force.
How much farther do you think I'll make it?
I won't die of natural causes,
of that I am sure.
Someday I will become the murderer of my own soul.
I still have most of 2014 let to live,
but how will I life it?
I can only hope it brings better luck than 2013 showed me.
In 2015 I'll be dragging myself through senior year,
and then off the dorm rooms and lecture halls.
Do you think I can survive that too?
I barely know where I want to go.
I barely know if I want to be alive to choose.
So how am I expected to think about the future,
if I am unsure that a future is what I want?

They used to say I was so strong.
I am beginning to think that "strong" is a jinxed term,
like "best couple" or "most likely to succeed."
Strong.
More like "tired, lost, and uninterested."

I made a promise to a very nice boy,
and I intend to keep it.
Here is what I have to say to him-
I won't hurt myself anymore.
I'll do that for you.
Much of the time, I don't want to live.
I don't really see the point to it all.
I've never been good at life
and I don't enjoy doing things I am not good at.
But you I will live for.
When I am with you,
I can see why people appreciate this whole thing called life.
I'll live for the day to day things that make me laugh,
because we all know that it's the little things that matter most.
I'll live for hope and a future,
that may or may not involve you
but I kinda wish it does.
I think that would be fun, don't you?

I thought I was a lost cause
but then you swooped  in and changed that.
You changed me.
So thank you.
I don't think I tell you that enough.
I.
Am.
Grateful.
For.
You.
So yes.
I'll live for you
because you taught me an crucial thing.
While everything may not be great,
things can still be good.
Laying next to you,
I feel safe.
Life for me is mostly a torrent of hits and misses,
of cards that I wish could have been dealt further apart.
But my life with you is... good.

I will live for no loner seeing your face contort into a terrified expression formed around puppy dog eyes as you ask,
"no more, please?"
while you trace the cuts on my arm.
I will live for days spent in your room because somehow we never get bored
(and I get tired of people at an alarmingly fast rate).

I will life for you because simply put,
I am in love with you.

How many times can I check facebook, check facebook check facebook?
Glance, browse stalk, stalk harder.
How many times can I watch a show on my computer?
Watched, finished, next episode next episode next episode-caught up
How many times can I get distracted, get distracted check emails—no new messages
Entertain me, distract me, disconnect
I want to be turned on standby, autopilot, you can think for me
Keep the walls of paper from burying me, suffocating me
Intellectually flat-line, a mental goodbye
Lose consciousness, fake my awake
Get lost, then found then actually find my way back to my workload
Attempt the task that terrifies
Look it in the eye,
Unafraid eager and tackle it down to the ground
One subject two three,
But the pile it looms over me, consumes me
I bit off more than I can chew
Teeth that don’t release, don’t retract
All I think of is how I should act
Attack, straight on? That’s the best bet
Nothing was ever accomplished by sitting down in fret
The stakes are just too high to try
A failed attempt changes impressions
Self-Conceptions

If “dying is an art,” you do not do it well.  I do not
have words, do not have thoughts; there is nothing inside
of me anymore.  I am vacant, hollow, and if this is what
time travel feels like I do not want any part of it.  Racing
past the stars, past the planets, past Andromeda's spiraling, galactic force,
I am light-years ahead and then light-years behind—I am
                two years                    too late.                  

You cannot know, you will not know, how
Auriga is waiting in the sky to whisk you
                                                                 away,                away,                            away.

Th­e bubbling of your oxygen sounds like the water fountains
you used to pass as a child, but there are no pennies at the bottom
of this.  And I wonder, with your eyes closed, if you feel like you
are swimming.  Barely treading water, fighting to keep your head above,
choking on salt and brine as you try to kick your feet, try to
swim to Lake Michigan’s shoreline.  I want
Poseidon to spit you out of sea like a cork, want
Neptune to come alive through the mosaics of your bathroom and
lead you away from the great, black, wave of stars that is
breaking and crashing and barely brushing your bare feet.

Some fish were meant to drown.  You are
not one of them.  Pisces is meant to swim                   forever.

This time machine has dropped me back into my nightmare again,
but it is not only mine, it’s yours.  I am trying to read
the constellations, trying to map the planets, trying to figure out
the moon cycles, but I fear that this is a language I had learned once
and tried to forget—we are now digging each others graves.  
The nurse in blue, the doctor in white, the sun in gold, and you,
red as dead and clotted blood, have merged into a new dialect
that does not mirror what I know the way the
Gemini twins mimic one another in the cosmos. (I think
                                 I have lost my ability to speak with angels
and this terrifies me.)

Is God whispering the secrets of the world into your ear yet?  Is Jesus
showing you how to be holy?  Are you tearing the bread for communion
and feeding it to the birds?  Are you taking shots from His heavenly blood,
getting drunk off the possibility of closing your eyes, leaning back, and
watching Perseus fight your battles for you?  
                                                        Do you want to be a constellation, too?

I am eighty miles away from you, but it feels more like
eighty light-years.  I am watching you through someone else’s eyes and
choking myself with my own hands as I try to show you
what you mean to me.  My hands are cracked and bleeding from
pounding them against the wall you constructed around yourself, but you
don’t have control over that wall anymore, do you?

You are too young to ride Pegasus in the night sky, too young to
build your own wings, too young to fall and drown like Icarus.  You
know how to swim.  You are learning how to fly.  There is no
reason for you to shake God’s hand yet.  Put the halo down—
                                                           ­                                                you are not ready.

The fact that you're not a daydream anymore terrifies me.
At least I had control in my own head...