i think i must be a goner i say this because my parents are starting to give up they think i go to sleep too early and say i don't eat enough i go to sleep at 9 and they wake me up for awhile longer and they let me eat whenever i don't get scolded as often for my clothes or habits i say i am a goner because my friends admit that i am they know that i'm an idiot most of them will never tire of my recklessness they appreciate that i would die to make a point they understand my anarchism i have become a goner ever since i decided to be myself i wear clothes adorned with chains and safety pins and i cut my hair when i was told not to i was always a goner because i was told to not be what i was i am still told to not be myself but i prefer my axe deodorant and borrowed clothes i prefer my punk-*** self over anything i'm told to be i may be an actor but only as i please i may be an artist but i will not paint baby pink and blue over my jaded green and red soul i may be a musician but i will never play the song you forced me to learn i may want to be a photographer but i will never be picture perfect i was born a goner because i am your child but i will never be your daughter and if you’re concerned about me, dont be dead boys cannot hurt goners cannot hurt
i doubt anyone will find this relatable but, i write for myself
I don’t like to be scared On my best days I have my worst nights but I don’t bother putting up a fight I just put some music on The kind that keeps me in my mood But still lets me think straight Straighter than I can There’s this boy called Wil Straight at my school I’m scared for him I gravitated to him, really Because I gravitate towards the broken people Maybe someday Wil will tell me what willed him to be the way he is He’s dark green The soft kind There’s a boy who isn’t straight at my school He probably deserves better than he’s gotten Tonight he told me, “I’m gonna **** a boy and then give up.” He asked me, the *******, where I could find a ****** I told him I’d bet that some other guy had one on him He’s 14 I know too many boys who I thought were just pretty girls when we first met I know too many broken boys and I know too many broken girls Tonight I told my friends as we sang along to the broken chorus, “There will be a day when I can sing this last verse truthfully and it be well-fulfilled, but for now let us lie to ourselves in the knowledge that we love one another because it will make that day come ever so sooner” I don’t tell people I love them enough But glory my head and heart do They do a lot And I don’t want to lose them But as the lyric “who can relate?” came on at that school dance We all had our hands in the air And I could see it in their eyes It’s a song about suicide that we sing The song that tells us it wants us to be alive And God we don’t want to be But we do it for each other I had a good day The fear of losing them kicked in I’m so scared and I know I can’t There’s this guy who wasn’t a guy that feels broken On the inside I don’t often ask him about it I don’t know if he knows I know but I know and he might tell me no But that’s okay Tonight I cry for Wil Straight Boy who isn’t straight Guy who wasn’t a guy Green boy Girl who likes foxes Peaceful girl who listens to heavy metal music Girl who is still with us despite being okay Girl with a boy’s name Those are just the ones I see face to face Just the ones who tell me There’s too many of them I’m sorry! But I still love you like my dad loves chocolate Like *** people love rainbows Like people with anxiety love public speaking But most of all I love you the same way you love me(and maybe a little more)
today I had an extremely good day. I went on a girls only field trip about stem careers and then hit the school dance with my awkward friends. I spent most of the night telling them just how much I love them and not being afraid to dance. 1-800-273-8255 came on. I got home and realized just how many of them could actually relate, how many didn’t want to participate because of the tears. and then I had an overwhelming fear of losing them.