The only insecure I have is a great mass in a mean, but I'll never let you see that again; You bring out the insecure of me.

Last night
I was intrigued with the idea that you cared about me.
I've been debating if it was really worth all those times
I spent with my finger over your name
in my contacts to call.
Each time I had to convince myself that I should never rely on you
considering that we became indifferent since I confessed my confusion for leading you on, in the most innocent way.
I didn't think you would just cut off all the emotional bonds we had.
Cause even though we were just friends in my mind
I was the saving grace in yours
and I hope to god that one day you could save me
from myself too.
But I resisted to open up the deepest parts of me.
That's not what you do when someone else is spilling their heart,
to overpower their issues with your own pathetic problems that couldn't compete.
So I kept my mouth shut,
and listen intensively.
I always wanted to be the first person you would come
running to when something went wrong.
Not because I envy your other friends
but because I thought if anyone could understand you
It would be me.
This was nothing short of a therapist session.
You trusted me to your core.
Or at least that's what you made me believe.
Yet when our friendship strained
and the yelling became more about
what our expectations for one another couldn't match up with,
I knew more than ever
that it was all based on a lie.
I haven't seen you for a while
and I don't know what it is that I miss
but I do know that I can't find one thing I fully have faith in
from all the words that you swore to have spoken to only me
without thinking about it twice.
So there I was, an emotional wreck.
With the lump of a pill to hard to swallow
and trembling fingers as I scroll over your name
as I pressed, actually pressed the call button.
I could barely hear the rings over my own shatter breathing.
It ringed not once, not twice, but four ******* times
when I decided that I shouldn't be calling you.
Pressing the end button as makeup smear tears fell onto the screen.
You question why I called you.
Was it with concern? pity? Or was it because you felt obligated to ask
what was wrong
as a way of repaying back for all those times I have asked you.
I didn't want to open up and act like I needed you, but in that moment
I did and all I could hear from your voice inside my head was
criticism and annoyance.
And It hit me hard in the pit of my stomach,
that I was just another girl to you with the same cliché story
of being in the middle of a nervous breakdown
that can only been given temporary relief from cigarette kisses
all in this poor attempt to seek your unwilling attention.
When you replies became silent
for whatever reason it might of been
It killed a part of my inside.
Cause I never would of left you alone
If you were in my place.
Friends we are,
but I guess I only can get that kind of satisfaction
If we were something more.
No longer will I believe you anymore.
Next time when you tell me
that I can trust you with anything,
I'll simply ignore the far fetch attempts of concern
and trade them in for a more permanent solution.
It won't leave me any better off, but at least it will always be there, whenever I truly need it.

You go through the motions
You laugh at people's jokes
You exchange a smile when needed
Hell, you might even feel a connection to someone
But you can't ever get close
That's the Golden Rule

You can listen to all they say and comfort them
But you, yourself, cannot be comforted
You've learnt the lesson and played the game
To make such rash decisions
Others first, never yourself

You are forever with accompanying, making you completely alone
You are a friend to all, making you the friend to none

You are poetry to hold,
as bright as the moon above,
with every drip, a drop
until it sinks in...love.
you don't have *enough

November 4th, 2011, 12:57am.

I 'like' myself.
I like my eyes,
How they resemble a forest
After the rain,
But I don't like how they get red and bloodshot
Whenever I cry:
A forest fire
That's out of my control.
I like my hands,
How they can create art out of nearly anything,
But I don't like how they are covered
In scars
Made by pencils and pens and words that were too sharp.
I like my legs,
How they are strong,
Dependable,
A best friend,
But I don't like how they're stretched out,
Or how they rub together,
Or the way they jiggle when I walk.
I like my arms,
How there are constellations of freckles buttered over my skin,
But I don't like how no matter how hard I try,
I can't seem to pull myself up
Off the cold,
Concrete ground.
I like my hair,
How it trickles down like a waterfall,
Into the valley known as
The small of my back
But I don't like how it's made up of split ends
From staying in the hot shower for way too long
Dreading the morning sun.
Nevermind.
Maybe I don't like myself.

March 31st, 2015, 3:00am.

It has been a long road.
I have crashed
Gotten back up patched.
Added and subtracted
The Weight
The Clothes
The Hair
The Makeup
To get my answer
To a complex math problem;
A complex life problem
That I'm sure you've all encountered
On that one pop quiz
From the first day of school
That you took before they even knew your name.
#1. "What do they all think about me?"
#100. "Do I like myself?"
And with all I've experienced
And learned through self love and so
Much
Patience,
My answer is this:
I don't like myself,
I ******* love myself
And I hope you can all learn to do the same
Because nobody deserves to be caught under their own shadow of
Self Doubt.

Touched by the winds, the dull candle flickers
The shadow, she whispers upon the feline's whiskers
"What be out there?", I thought in my mind
Craved insecurities, but all in good time

I will not let it be, whispers and wonder
Tears do not fall, as I talk the words blunder
"Hath be I'm crazy?", spoke of myself
Closed eyes it seemed, as I only felt

Dressed in the nights, alone in my chair
Penning my life, ink smears and scared
I folded the paper, for it is all wrong
Scream the impossible, weakened not strong

It rapped on the walls, creaked bones inside
Given an ear, listen thy night
"What be out there?", I thought in my mind
Craved insecurities, but all in good time

I withered away, fear not my scenes
For I had taken it back by madness and dreams
Scraping the pane, gust open door
One step, two step, three step, four

Alone as I sit by shivering thought
Inside of my mind, restless and caught
It ruptured me cold, stiff and bit torn
Crashed through the pane, no longer born

The floorboards were bent by nothing but silence
Crime the mistaken, one second in violence
"What be out there?", I thought in my mind
Craved insecurities, but all in good time