When the rain falls it isn’t always consistent, it doesn’t all fall at once or bother keeping time. However it always falls.  Love; learning to love is much the same. You can fall fast or slow, all at once or pieces each time. You hit branches on the way down to slow, however you always make it down. Once you make it to the ground , you can soak further in, become entangled in a world you couldn’t even see from the sky, and couldn’t see from the trees. You would of never known it existed until you fell further.
Love much like the rain, can get carried back to the clouds for some time until it builds up its strength to fall once again. It will always fall again.

we established rules what you think you doin
thought we had a deal man
why you go and ***** it
once upon a time
we had a good thing
but bro you makin sad decisions
it's completely maddening
I was havin lots of fun
and it seemed like you were too
but then ya just had to
go and break the rules
that really made me mad and now youre gonna feel my wrath
cause that's just how it goes when you biff it bad in minecraft

seventy percent is needles in my head, bed sheets clean but not made yet
seventy percent is baby park pride, neighborhood rummage sales and mountain bike rides
seventy percent is school computer games, new DS names, broken back maimed
seventy percent is everything I did today except for homework
why'd you have to make it seventy percent
if it were less then maybe I would put forth
but it just feels impossible and efforts will be worthless
seventy percent is something bound to fail
seventy percent of my grade 'bout to derail

I haven't wrote anything for so long.
My brain does not allow myself to do so. There are so many things that are bothering me, mostly about myself, who am i in this world, how people see me, what is going to happen to me. Every second i try to make some sense out of everything but i'm left even more confused than i already was.

Reality is scary; simply because you are never sure if you are genuinely aware of reality. That's because what i see myself as, might just be an illusion i created to ease my fear of being myself. I always thought i was a strong person, that i had values and strong opinions, that i am someone who will do big things. I always thought that i am a nice person, that i genuinely care for others, that i'm okay, just a little confused, but am i? Am i any of these things?

I feel like a ghost wandering from place to place. People are unaware of my existence unless i make sure they notice i'm there too. But i stopped blaming society long ago, it's not anyone's fault, i'm not sure if it's mine either,maybe it's my brain's, it plays tricks sometimes. But i am my brain.

Everything feels like it quietly falls apart, slowly but deadly and you can not notice the damage unless you straight up look at it. I don't think i am as okay as i say that i am, but i am okay enough, and i guess that's what's wrong. I can't wish for help because i am okay enough. It's a fine line that keeps me hanging there. We fail to care about ourselves unless it's obvious that we should. I guess i am like that too.

I don't know when i'm right or wrong, when i'm happy or just getting by. I find myself unbearable, weak and tiny, like a trembling deer chased by lions, only i am both the deer and the lion. I don't seem to be able to hide my genuine feelings anymore. I started to catch myself hesitating before answering to "how are you" or i keep repeating the phrase "i'm anxious about this or that". I seem to not be able to fake a smile anymore or other times i'm smiling too much. I trust people who seem to sympathise with me, strangers or not, i ran to open arms like a homeless puppy or i poured my soul on small glasses and forced myself to stop before i break them. It's weird because i sometimes feel in control and other times i'm all over the place or when i talk about myself to curious eyes i say too much as if i truly know what i'm talking about.

I fear so many things, so so many things that keep me from living. I want to do things, be with people, date, say my opinions out loud, i want to live and not force myself to carry the weight of my head everywhere i go. There are times when i put my guard down and i close my eyes and i feel my head falling to the side, too heavy to keep it still. I fear everything but love so much.

The reality of who i really am is suffocating and i don't know, i don't know, i don't know. My god how i wish i could cry in public and whine and scream on top of my lungs "******* all!" just because i can't be any of them. Or to make my mum understand that when i tell her that i am not that good i mean "mum!i!am!not!okay!" but i'm scared to hurt her. How could i choose to make my mother cry when i tell her that i think about death a lot. But i'm not doing it, because i am okay enough.

How i wish i could date the guys that call me "interesting" and want to get to know me, but i'm too scared of speaking to strangers so i act cold to turn them down when in reality i'd love to feel their warmth on my skin. If i wasn't afraid of going to new places, or talking to people, or experiencing life, or not ******* up every line i say because i'm too stressed to actually put my words in a correct order. There is such a huge gap between who i want to be or how i feel like i am and who i actually am or even who i end up looking like.

If there was no fear, how could my life be? Who could i be if i wasn't afraid of being? Really, is there anything in my life other than my loneliness and a universe of polluted thoughts? Am i anything more than flesh and bones? And how? How can i change and find myself? How do people know who they are if i, who knows too much about myself cannot understand a single part of my existence? If i can't understand myself then how can i ever be able to truly understand others, to be happy, or to be alive? How could i truly ever live my life without feeling the weight of myself dragging me down?

I sense the catastrophe running through my veins. Really, how small can a person become? I feel so small in my own room, even smaller in my own life. Am i even as big as a dust in space, as alive as a falling star or is there nothing for me? I wish i could be someone you turn to face, but maybe my sunrays faded away and maybe i'm way too small to take up all that space; but for you to look at me, that would have been the biggest accomplishment i have ever made.

three hours later at the nine and followed forty
(where did you go from the four)
slandered rocks he left on bricks before a bus of bad memories came to knock me down
straight into the ground I thought it might just drive me to the mantle
molten rock to cool my temper after living below finger pads and being trampled
how could I have run when simply stunned I nearly tripped
over my own tongue
I need to close my mouth
but here I am too kind too cruel to ever say a word but to never stop a sentence what kind of speech is my own
I've never heard it real so to speak you see at least thats how it feels

ask me again tomorrow and I'll say I've felt it true and that I know myself exactly who
and yet
across the bench is you

I'm tired I'm drained I'll completely explain
why I do not like you--
if only you'd sign this form of consent to never sue me over words I may have maybe said
except those are never read just signed in blinded ink instead
so really what's the use just take the helmet off my head
(don't be silly, as if I ever had it really)

he's got his heart on his shoulder but I'm not sure
if there's another in his throat
another one to dread
I hope to find proof yet hope's all I can do
for better or for worse or left for simply dead
I cannot seem to tell good liars what's the truth

Very distracting kind of abstract
Cardboard laundry hamper box filled with soiled time
Wash your clocks and clean its hands
Lord knows how often seconds wipe smiles from faces
How unsanitary, which I can't stand
But yet, the crumples of crinkled sheets cast aside
Though should reside in washer's spinning bowl
In actuality slumps glumly on my floor truly self extolled
How will I ever do on my own, after leaving from home
I'll be alone and hungry and ******, nothing but skin and bone
Anyway
It's time I just get those sheets washed

I have never known how to be enough
always either exceedingly too much or not quite there at all
I wonder, did you feel like I was suffocating you?
or did you feel like you had to coerce words out of my mouth for me to admit I felt anything at all?
I am reckless in my emotions, impulsive in my words
I spent months learning to pretend I'm not plagued by your memory
I wonder if you spend time mourning what we lost
I wonder if you get a stomach ache when you think about the ending
or if it's a heavy sigh of relief, a warmth against your skin
I wonder if I'm best kept as a memory
tell me, what makes you think of me?
the frizz in your hair, or the bad taste in your mouth?
your worst day or your best- It'd be a pleasure to be any of your days at all