You see there is not much of me left to give
But I’ll give you what’s there because I know that I don’t deserve it, not because I think you do
I’ve wasted so much of myself already

that I don’t think it really matters who gets the rest

I used to hold your hand, grasp your fingers, and never let go. You thought this was silly, you said I'd cut off our circulations of blood flow, but I didn't care. You were mine, and I wasn't about to let you out of my grip.

Too bad you slipped, floating away from me, drifting farther and farther. And all I could do was watch.  

It reminded me of a balloon I held once, a pretty yellow one I got at a fair; my small fingers clutching it tightly. Mommy told me to tie it to my wrist, so it wouldn't blow away. I should have listened.

As it took to the air, lifting higher and higher, into the clouds;
All I could do was helplessly stand there. Until the yellow dot in a sea of blue; eventually just became part of the sky.
It made me cry.


I think boys are like those pretty balloons, not all, but most. They come in many different colors and many different sizes and shapes.

Some say things like "I love you,"  "I'm yours." or even "Happy Birthday."
Others forget to tell you anything like that at all.
They just hover above you, as you clasp them in your hands, hoping with all your might that you are enough to make them stay.

And honestly, some are just meant to be "let go" or "set free."
Because they're not worth keeping, no matter what you tell yourself.

Over and over I have tossed aside the things I love for you
And I’ve let go of dreams that I was just beginning to believe in and hopes that I thought I would always long for

Because I thought that maybe someday you would do the same for me
I stupidly thought that you might eventually learn to love what I love and see what I see
If only for just a moment

I’m old enough to understand
I know that sometimes I make mistakes
Mistakes that cause you to look at me with that I-told-you-so expression in your eyes telling me that I won’t ever amount to anything
But at least I admit I don’t have everything figured out
At least I have the guts to go out and do what I want

You’ve taught me all you know
You’ve raised me as best as you could and now it’s my turn to do things on my own
It’s my turn to prove you wrong
I may make mistakes sometimes
My seemingly fool-proof plans may not always work out the first few tries
But that’s ok

I don’t think people were ever meant to get things right the first time
And maybe not even the second, but I do know that sooner or later failure becomes something that only exists in the past
So I might fail, I might fall and scrape my knees more than once
But I know now that falling is only part of living and that being alive means having the strength to get up again

So don’t hold me down, don’t hold me back from what I love
I’m old enough to understand
Just let me go

Invisible Boy:

He is a boy who chooses to be lonely
He breathes in solitude, exists for it

If you're fortunate you may catch a glimpse of this invisible boy
But only for a moment

He hides behind his music
Strumming his guitar to the beat of his heart
Performing his songs into the empty stillness

He never feels the misery of being all alone
Never senses the ache of an unfilled space
Content in being neglected by the crowds
Rejected by all the spectators

They will never know him
They don't understand

Broken Girl:

She is a girl who is afraid of people
She observes her feet, as she walks

You may see her sad eyes, sheltered beneath her hair
But only for an instant

She hides behind her paintings
As the paint drips down the canvas, her tears melt from her eyes
When the colors bleed alone, so does her heart

She knows the feeling of brokenness
The scars she wears are evidence of that
People are damaged
By the wounds of their own souls
She doesn't belong in this world

They will never know her
They don't understand

Invisible Boy meets Broken Girl:

He sees her one day
Among the crowds
The people he tries so hard to avoid
She walks alone
Eyes cast down
He cannot help himself
"What is it that makes you sad?" He asks her
She looks up into his eyes
"Being broken and alone"
He doesn't say a word, he only takes her hand
As his fingers entwine with hers
He feels a longing deep inside him
It grows and spreads from his heart to his veins
He whispers "No one should ever be alone."
He stops when he realizes what he has said is true
She gives him a weak smile, frail but genuine
He smiles back
"Maybe, I can be lonely with you." She says softly

People grow pale, others stare, and they cannot comprehend what is happening
Something is different, something is wrong
The invisible boy has found the girl that feels all alone

They will never know them
They don't understand

I think I think too much. Every thought is a never-ending thread and every thread is tangled and tied with knots.
I think the threads of your thoughts are just as tangled and knotted as mine. But you’re so good at keeping them that way. Mine are frayed and unraveling at the ends.
It’s not you it’s me. I just can’t wrap my mind around how wonderful you are and how so undeserving I really am.
I’m waiting for the day I wake up, because this is such a beautiful dream.
But you’re still here, and I’m still here. Even though sometimes it feels like I’m so close to being the furthest thing from you.
You are the only one who sees me. And I see you. Together we see the world in slightly different colors than anyone else.
The world is a contradiction.
Beautiful yet terrifying. There is light and there is darkness. And there is also that place in between. The grey uncertainty. It seems everyone is stuck there, not knowing which to belong to.  
But with us it doesn’t matter, because I belong to you. And you belong to me. There’s no uncertainty in that.
I don’t know if I know you better than you know yourself, but I know you enough to see that you’re just a little bit lost. You’re a little bit tired of waking up with still-heavy eyes and unsettled thoughts.
It’s completely heartbreaking, but I know how it feels to open your eyes and see that it’s taking forever to be where you want to be. To see that it’s taking far too long for your life to start.
I’d like you to know that I’ll be here waiting for you to find yourself. In the meantime, please keep waiting for me. Because I’m just as lost as you.
I’m lost, but strangely I’m not afraid. I know these stumbling steps I’m taking now will someday lead me to you.
You told me once that you could save me, and it’s true that I am in need of saving.
But so are you.  
Please don’t forget that I’m still here. That I’ll always be here.
If you take my hand, I’ll take yours and I swear I won’t let go.

You don't want me.
I'm like an old, worn out journal. A thousand emotions scrawled over every page.
Within my pages, there are letters that I'll never send, and secrets I can never share because I'm scared you'd never understand.
I am the description of a lonely heart. Dreams, thoughts, and memories fill every corner of my mind, pushing against the interior of my skull trying to break free.

I'm falling apart.
I've been trampled over and left bent and folded in ways I'm not sure can be fixed.
Every day I scribble out another dream—knowing that I'll never obtain something so beautiful.
I rip out entire pages of memories I'd rather forget.
I've been left out in the rain, soaking up the sky's tears. Sometimes there is so much pain inside me that I can't keep my head above the water. Sometimes I lose myself in that swirling black ink and drown in my own overwhelming thoughts.  
I am the definition of a soul that belongs nowhere at all.

You don't want me. I am only fragments and crumpled pages of a girl come undone.

you know that dream we all have?
the one where we're trying so hard to reach out and touch something,
trying to get somewhere,
or get away from something frightening.

that's what it feels like.

you want so bad to make my hurt go away, but you don't know how
and i don't know how to let you know it's not your fault.

trust me when i say there is nothing you could've done, or still can do to save me.
i'm too far gone for that.

it's like that other dream we all have
the one where we're sinking so fast we know we can't catch ourselves.
we claw at the ground, the air, trying to grasp something solid, something we can hold on to.
but nothing's there,
nothing is ever there.
we just fall.

this crushing weight upon my chest won't go away
and i'm too tired to push off the heaviness that's pulling me down.
you offer me your hand, and i can't take it
my fingers won't stretch that far.

i hear your voice shouting,
telling me over and over not to give up, to keep trying.
i slowly shake my head and close my eyes, allowing the sleep to pull me in
deeper.
can't you see i'm happy here in my dreams?

i just need to be alone.

You told me once, that you were never sure if you really loved something until you lost it.
Did that include me?
I don't think you really lost me, though--I lost you.
I lost the only person that made sense in my life, the only one who knew more about me than myself.
I lost my world.
And it wasn't until it completely stopped spinning that I noticed anything was different.
You had me fooled, didn't you?
Remember the way I laughed when you told me I was beautiful?
I laughed because I didn't believe you.
But I also laughed out of pure joy--I had never felt so alive in my life as I had in that one moment.
That's the kind of girl I am, you see.
I am a girl who can find a million beautiful things about everyone else, but nothing even remotely good about herself.
It's a disease really.
One that's out to **** me.
Because not everything about every person is beautiful.
You are living proof of that.
*So, why then my dear, do I still love you?

I didn't have to tell you I was lost, you already knew.

I guess the way my lonesome eyes wandered over the pages of blissful and melancholy poems may have been your first clue. I read them, and quoted them out of habit.
Asking you constantly why people didn't talk like this anymore, why they insisted on using simple, dull phrases in their speech to depict their emotions.
You said it was because poetry was a lost art, and that describing how one felt had evolved into just plainly telling them so, without flowering it. Making it easier to understand. Strangely, I couldn't comprehend what you meant by that, but it forever made me wonder why people no longer wanted their words to be beautiful.

The second indication of being lost was the way I tried so hard to stay hidden, but always managed to become exposed. My insides always surfacing at the most inconvenient times. It got to the point where everything I said caused people to look my way.
Not because what I articulated was witty, or even lovely, but because the words I said were unusual and never made sense. Thus, I made an effort to keep my voice quiet. So at least then my insanity would only come out in whispers.  

Thirdly, I think you became convinced of my inability to find myself on the day I climbed up onto the roof of my house and told you I was going to jump. I pronounced it was the only way I could ever really achieve my dream to fly, even if it were only for a few seconds before I would collide with the ground. It took hours, but you finally persuaded me to come back down. Promising that you would find me a pair of wings.  

And who could forget the time you asked me my favorite color, and I told you it was gray. When you inquired to the reason why, I replied that it was because gray was all my favorite colors blended together. But that I liked it most because it was the color of your downcast eyes. I still remember how you halfheartedly laughed and promptly changed the subject.

I guess, now I can see I wasn't the only one who was lost.

The accounts of losing yourself were as follows:

i.
              
The voices of the people around you started to sound like a cassette tape in fast forward. You couldn't understand why they were talking that way.
Alltheirwordsstringingtogetherinunrecognizablehighpitchedgarble­

ii.

When you saw your reflection in the looking glass, you began to see someone else.
You couldn't recognize the face in the mirror. you reached out to touch who you thought you were, and your hand slipped through the surface like a hand submerging into water. And that was the last you saw of your face (or at least, what you thought was your face)

iii.

So now, you became a faceless creature. You saw without eyes, hearing only static and white noise. You walked on abandoned sidewalks, tripping over broken glass and getting tangled up in withered weeds. It is there where you completely lost yourself. And no one saw you slip through the cracks into the crevices of shattered dreams and empty promises. No one saw you fall through paved over lies and stomped out wishes.

Somewhere along the way, you misplaced what it was to be human.
You became something else entirely.

**You became a writer.

His eyes were clouded over skies casting shadows on her heart. And she was light, half sunrise and part sunset. He loved her like a storm. Like a dark cloud looming above her, threatening to break open and pour out everything inside him. His heart was made of thunder, beating louder and louder with each flicker of lighting reflecting in his eyes.

    She wanted him, but not because he was like darkness, but because he was strong and moved through her like a sudden storm passing over the most beautiful blue sky. Sometimes he was like the wind, unpredictable and fierce, but still soft enough to catch the free strands of her hair and gently pull it through his fingers.
  
    She was like the sun. Warm and bright, she shone through his darkness and bathed his life with light. She was stunning in the morning and brilliant in the evening. She showed him a world full of vivid colors, above the dull grays of heavy clouds. He loved her because she was the calm after his storm.

I will not be here long dear, but I have to know
Are your eyes always such a melancholy green?
All faded and weathered, drained and worn
You say you have troubles,
My dear boy,
Do you know?

You are not alone

As the rain cascades down your window
And the thunder shakes your splintered floorboards
I sing you a soft lullaby
Timidly, I touch your hair
Your face
Day-old stubble lightly grazes my fingertips
And I watch you breathe
I hear you sigh
You whisper that I am beautiful

And I almost believe you

You tell me you're so tired,
So exhausted that you could close your melancholy eyes
And sleep, sleep forever
Because wakefulness seems a misuse of time
Of precious dreaming
My darling boy,
Do you not know?

You are a dream

I'll start with this, a simple wish
My long-awaited dream to fly
When you told me forever, I almost believed you
And I nearly let my hidden wings unfold
But then I thought maybe you didn't mean forever, not really
Maybe you were just exaggerating
So I tucked them away, hiding them deep within myself again

Flying would prove to be very lonesome, if I had no one to join me

The second was my inner desire to become lost,
To somehow lose myself in search of uncovering who I wanted to be
But to merely pretend, and fall into the masquerade of life was too effortless
Instead I sought to be free, to find what made me different and never change
That's where we clashed unpleasantly
You always knew where you were going; you always had a plan
I only drifted aimlessly, hoping that with a hint of serendipity sooner or later
I would unearth what I was looking for

Losing myself would be rather impossible, if I had nobody to find me again

The final was the most significant, but also the most strange
My fear of letting someone in, to close the distance from stranger to friend
Or even more so than a friend
All my doubts and uncertainties revolved around you  
I didn't want you to discover my soul inside and be sadly disappointed
Or maybe even disgusted with what you saw
So I didn't let you get too close, I made myself think that I wasn't what you needed
Nor would I ever be
So you see, my dear

It was very hard to be with someone, when all along I knew I was better off alone

The day you took my wings was the day I forgot how to fly
Silly, isn't it?
I forgot who I was
Just because of some stupid wings

But they weren't just wings
Every strand of cells that threaded into my backbone held my thoughts and my dreams

The day you gave me my wings was the day you called me your angel
Each person becomes somebody's angel at least once in their life
It's a proven fact

And in that instance, their spine starts to tingle
The bone constructs more bone, the muscle constructs more muscle
Pulling, stretching, forming
Until finally your newly assembled skeletal muscles and bones break through the skin
Don't worry, it doesn't hurt—it only tickles
At that moment all your memories, thoughts, and dreams shape themselves into feathers
After it's all over, you have a brand new pair of wings

Though you can't see them
The colors of the feathers are stunning
Shades of reds, oranges, purples, blues, and yellows
Cover every inch of your angel wings

You may often find a stray feather lying about
Drained of the beautiful colors it once had, left instead gray or brown
Most people conclude that a poor bird just happened to lose it
They never suspect it came from a pair of angel wings
Maybe even their own
Because sometimes people misplace one of their memories or dreams
And a feather falls unnoticed, powerlessly carried off in the wind

Every day I lost pieces of myself
And you didn't bother to put me back together
The feathers that held my dreams whisked away in the breeze
Until my wings became naked skeletal bones and muscles

The day you took my wings was the day I forgot how to fly

And I'm still falling

I’m no good at hellos, I feel that introductions are often a lie
You never hear people say: Hello my name is so and so, and I’m afraid of being alone
Because people don’t like to admit that they fear anything
Being fearful of something makes us seem vulnerable
(Or does it?)

I think I somehow knew it was going to end up like this
There was always you and there was always me
But there was never us

I replay the first time we met, those awkward first glances and exchange of words
The beginning of many conversations to come
We didn’t know it then, but we would soon be listening to one another’s voices like they were the only sounds that made sense in this world
(When did we decide they meant nothing at all?)

I remember the last time we saw each other, those too-short kisses and drawn-out hugs
The promises of forever, that always seem so real in the moment
(But that I don’t think anyone really ever intends to keep)
We didn’t know it then, but we would soon be pretending that everything was ok even when it wasn’t
(When did we decide we couldn’t possibly make things right again?)

Honestly, I’m not afraid of being alone
I’m just afraid I might always be that way

This isn’t goodbye
This is just goodnight
Maybe I’ll see you again tomorrow, or the day after that

This isn’t hello either
This is two strangers passing each other by without saying anything at all
Maybe someday we’ll make our introductions again

But next time I’m going to say: Hello my name is so and so, and I’m afraid of losing you

To the boy with the ocean in his eyes,
I don’t know if you remember, but you saved me once  

I was drowning, and so very tired, I couldn’t keep my eyes open
but I didn’t care if I fell asleep
I didn’t care if I never woke up
I was sinking. I was falling, deeper and deeper
My heart was so heavy, and I didn’t want to go on breathing
I didn’t want to even try
I had given up, counted myself as lost
But you reached for me,
you pulled me out of the darkness

Do you remember now?
When you held me, and you whispered that I was going to be ok
You promised. You promised that everything would be ok and that you would never let me go
But you did

I won’t say my heart is broken
Because it’s not
It’s just a little bit numb, a little bit cold, a little bit tired
of trying to love someone that refuses to be loved

Why won’t you let me save you?

All my life, I’ve thought of myself as weak
But now I am strong enough to admit that I might be alone for awhile
And I’m ok with that

I will be good enough
I will be worth it
For someone, someday

But I don’t fear being lost anymore, I’m not afraid of uncertainty
I know that eventually my wandering will lead me somewhere beautiful
And you don’t need to save me again
I’m no longer falling, no longer sinking
If anything I’m becoming stronger
I’m not willing to slip away this time

I’ve still got a ways to go before I reach the surface
But I’m not drowning anymore
I am going to live
I am going to be happy

The world is not ours,
                  (but that doesn't stop us from wanting it)
Our bodies are not limitless; they do not last forever, though in this moment
                                                          ­                                                 I swear, I almost feel infinite

There was a time when I thought words were immeasurable
Those being said, those already spoken, and those yet to be spoken
They are, were and would forever be endless

Some are exchanged lightly without thought, and others are as thunder, destructive and forceful,
but somehow it doesn't matter how they are said, and to whom;
As long as those words put an end to the drawn out silence
(there is no need for them to be meaningful, or even tender)

I used to believe words were Everything
that language could offer us something unexplainable and undeserved
(As though it was not meant for everyone)
I used to think these things when I was young
                                                           ­             (I still do)

Some poems exist inside of us, and others for all the world to see
But what the world sees, we are blinded to
These poems are not spoken out loud
Because no one wants to talk about their hidden, unmistakable flaws

It's a shame really
We listen so hard, but we never hear the poems we need to hear most

Clouds and rainy days are everywhere, with blue skies and happiness in between
(But what comes after the happiness?)

Our lives, it seems are photographs
Moments of joy, snippets of sadness
Beginnings of one thing,
                                 ends of another
they are simple snapshots taken just to be forgotten
                worn and faded
Beautiful, but so often left in a drawer

Outside our lives, beyond the drawers and would-be frames
The world keeps shifting, moving forward,
                                                 with or without us
Fall-painted leaves, white-blanket snow melting
into the beautiful bloom of spring and warm heart of summer

Trivial are our words
We write all we know, inking down our deepest thoughts,
But the paper stays blank and empty
Our words, despite how lovely and important we think they may be,
                                                             ­                have no power over anything at all
The stars are so far away and out of reach, but even the stars
are no closer to Heaven than we can ever be

We don't know what matters
we complicate things, and make excuses
truly, we don't know what really matters in life
(Or maybe we just don't care about what matters until it's almost gone)
In summer we miss the snow,
               in winter we miss the sun
We have become discontent and unhappy with what we have

So these are the three things I have learned,
One from someone I'll never meet,
                                 two others from people I never knew:

Walk in other people's shoes, regardless of the size
See things through someone else's eyes, instead of looking blindly through your own
Write as if the words you write could be your last