I just started reading
some poetry of some
author I'd never heard of,
as I puffed on the hookah.
He recalled a time he was
naked with a woman.
Then I looked at his
picture on the back cover
and scrunched my nose.
He wasn't the type that
looked like he could get you good.
But I'm sure he could
rock my socks with science.
Anyways,
I know that's shallow,
but see, I'm used to Charles Bukowski.
A person and poet that
I would genuinely ****,
if he wasn't dead.
So of course Im more likely
to want to hear about his
past experiences.
I don't know where I
was going with this..

The Dixie chicks
just started singing in
the background,
and it distracted me.

I remember the first
time I was made aware
of what I am doing.
I was a senior in high school,
having a sleep over at my
friend's house.
She had just got done
doing my twin sister's hair.
It was really pretty.
Long, blonde, and curled.
Cam said,
I could do the same for you.
And she smiled.
So I sat in front of her,
and she started messing
with my much shorter hair.
Suddenly, she stops,
and breathes out.
Then slowly she said,
What happened to your hair?
Of course I asked her what she meant.
Then she showed me.
It was missing, gone.
I was bald.
I just sat there,
frozen by my own reflection.
What was happening?!
I tried laughing it off,
but as I laughed,
tears started colliding
onto my legs.
Was I crazy?
When did I do that?!

As soon as I got home
I googled,
why am I pulling out my hair?

What I found.

Trichotillomania.

I feel so anxious.
My heart is racing,
my mind is overflowing.
I don't know why
because everything is
fine.
I should have drank
a beer.
I am smoking
to prevent myself
from pulling out my hair.
Literally.

I wish I could call
my boyfriend,
but it's 2:27 a.m.

I just felt like I needed
to write.
I know that this
isn't anything profound.

I came to work
really ******.
There was no way
to hide it.
Ya know,
when your eyes
are impossible
to open wide,
and totally bloodshot.

But now my high has
gone away,
and I'm starving,
or maybe its the munchies.
A nap sounds like a dream
come true.

Maybe I should stop
smoking *** before I go
to work until 1 a.m,
with 7$ to my name.

Nahhh.. **** that :)

If I had known then,
what I know now,
then I would have done things
a lot differently.
If I knew that those days
really wouldn't last forever,
then I never would have left,
I would have always participated.
I would have gotten **** drunk on a Thursday,
even though we had school the next day,
just because,
I would have gone on every
smoke cruise,
every walk to the gas station,
I would have tripped sooner,
been myself sooner,
I would have stopped worrying
about him so much,
and started worrying about them
more.
If I knew then,
what I know now,
then maybe I would still
have friends,
I wouldn't feel like an outcast
in my own home town.
Its stupid,
but I can now accept that
I ****** up the relationships
I had with so many people.
Its my fault.
Its my fault.

If I knew then what I know now,
I wouldn't hate myself so much
today.

I still have the need
to text you at 2:53
in the morning
just to see if you'll answer.
I still miss the way you
always had the smell
of alcohol on your breath.
That incredibly sweet,
real, sad smile that you
only let me see a few times.
I still miss the way it
felt when you're arms
were around me,
and your breath was on
my neck.
The sound of a motorcycle
makes my heart stop,
and the taste of beer
and cigars make me
miss your lips.

All 5 of my senses
miss him..

He said he wants
to marry me.

As a girl,
that is something
you never forget.

I've only thought
about spending the
rest of my life with
one other person,
it didn't happen,
but I haven't forgotten.

I'm in love though,
and it's wonderful.
Love l o v e love love
L O V E

There really is no feeling
like the one I get,
whenever I hear or see
him.
Somehow I relive
every memory I have
in the time
it takes to say his name.
I miss everything that
he is, that he was.
The first time we hung out
we were drinking on
his couch,
until he took my beer,
set it down,
and started kissing me.
He was the typical bad boy,
funky black hair,
that he didn't take care of
but still looked great.
Tattoos all over his body,
his choice of vehicle was
a dirt bike,
didn't get along with
authority,
and he was wild in bed.

We probably could have
been a great couple.

But I never gave him a chance,
and that is a choice I
may regret forever.

The fan is luring
me to sleep.
My sister and her
boyfriend are in
the bathroom getting
ready for bed.
I'm already in bed,
in my new room,
that's still looks
like no one lives in it.
I still haven't finished
unpacking.
I'm distracted,
thinking about my mom,
a cigarette, Sleep.

Sometimes I feel
ten thousand different
feelings all at once..