"What's the matter dear?"
Psh... They say it as if they actually care.

Everything.

Nothing.

I have no ******* clue what is actually wrong with me.

What is so wrong with me that I am squeezing my lungs with my dirt covered hands just so I have trouble breathing, just so.. perhaps... I suffocate myself...

What is so wrong with me that I've had to cry so often my tears have turned to sand and they begin to erode my flesh?
I've sobbed so often lately that the features of my bare skull are now where my pretty face should be.

I'm such a **** up.

I swear they told me that the minute I was born. You would figure it was my name.

Hello my name is: **** Up.

Nice to meet you. I hope we can be great frie--- oh great.
I've done it again.

I said the wrong thing.
I held out the wrong hand for the handshake.
I'm too ugly for them to talk to.
I'm too skinny.
It's the pimples again isn't it?
They weren't this bad yesterday I promise I just pick
Pick... Pick... Too much.
I'm s-sorry I k-keep st-stuttering its j-just that you're s-so... pretty.  Oh y-you have to g-go? O-okay...

The abandonment issues never really go away.

It gets harder and harder to talk to people. Even in your dreams you try to scream to get some recognition for yourself but every word comes out silent.

Crowds are your worst enemy. You get lost as they swarm towards you and your body suddenly feels tight. Your stomach flips upside down and you're not breathing steady.

And then... Oh! There's that suffocation you wanted earlier. Is it everything you expected? Breathe it all in! Oh wait... You can't. Hahaha!

You can't speak, and when you do you st-stutter again and you speak so quietly that it doesn't even matter anyway.

"I exist." You whisper.

No one heard you, you know.
Instead their voices bounce off each other and you feel light headed as that once wonderful cranium fills with the clamor of the incredibly untalented voice-drummers you unwillingly surround yourself with.

My entire body trembles with anxious defeat.


Such a **** up.
You can't even get him to talk to you again let alone love you, you miserable *******. You're going to be alone forever, you know.

And your own friends!... They're out doing drugs and you always believe them when they say they're going to quit. Jokes on you. This will traumatize you for the rest of your pointless life, especially when you know you could have done something.

You can't even take care of yourself, what makes you think you deserve those wonderful twins you hold so closely to your heart? You should have listened to your father when he said you'd be a terrible mother. He was right. You're horrid.

Sticks and stones WILL break my bones, but words will indeed **** me.

Hello, my name is: ****** Up

Welcome to the town of Unimportance.
Population: Me

Someone asked me
About how old I am today

He proceeded to tell me
That next year I'll be a year older

I supressed the tears
And gave a pretentious laugh

I couldn't imagine next year
Being alive for another year

Kick me while I'm down.
Beat me til I'm spitting blood.
Let me beg for mercy
Tell me I'm too ****** up to love.
Watch me fall apart.
Hand me the blade to cut myself.
Pour the ***** in my soul.
Tell me I'm too gone to help.
Tie my hair back,
As you push my fingers down my throat.
Watch me cry and hate myself.
Tell me I'm stupid to emote.
Batter me With misery
I'm just a *******.
I'm nothing more than a waste of space,
So treat me like it.

just to think at one point in our lifetimes, we didn't know each other existed.
now that we've met, i don't remember how i ever lived my life without you.
you were my 3 am thoughts, you were in my head 24/7 and i was going insane.
after you told me how you actually felt, i realized that you still are my 3 am thoughts and that you never left my head.
i soon came to realize that i /need/ you, and that i still love you.

Make something of yourself son,
Cause you know daddy ain't gonna.
I know you aren't bitter boy
Wipe them tears from your cheeks
Be the man your poppa shoulda been
Sonny don't cry yourself to sleep
But mom, walk in my shoes

The faded flicker of the far off clock was my only source of light. Until I picked up my phone and let my 2 A.M. thoughts run rampant. They made my fingers race across the screen. Made them play tag. They swiped and pinched until finally there you were. At 2 A.M. you were in my hands again. You're smile was as wide as ever and your eyes held the same glitter like they did when you used to talk to me. And You spoke about me even more. People would often come up to me and say that my name was all that would slip off your tongue. And I remembered that snake. The first time it brushed against my lower lip wanting access like a lion knowing that there was more to life than it's own cage. But to everyone, you spoke of me like I was the one who made the sun rise, who put the stars in the sky, who made the wind blow, and who made your world as you knew it turn.
My 2 A.M. thoughts made my fingers dance again. And another you appeared before me. All dressed up. Like we were married. But far from it. We sat like we had to save space on the Mayflower. I was in your lap and your arms were around my fragile frame. And I knew I would never love someone as much as I loved you that night. And my 2 A.M. thoughts brought me to the messages. Where are little "I love you more" fights were held and our futures were voiced. Remember that?
I was only a few months older than you. And I remember saying that I had to wait longer for my soulmate to come to me. And there you were again. In my head talking to me when we were bestfriends. While tapping on the plastic on the screen, the fingers fought for their right to voice the will of my 2 A.M. thoughts.
And I wrote about how I met you so far, way back when. I wrote about the dances we went to, the dates we laughed about. And then ultimately the 2 A.M. thoughts brought me to the deepest places I never wanted to let set free again.
And they scrambled on the keyboard of the phone! CAPS LOCKs, sorrys, pleads, and begs. Explanation after explanation and so many what if's. And I read it and read it. And only now did I realize that I was choking on the tears that you left me with. And I continued with the rant, and blamed you for what happened and blamed you for the causes. And then I stopped. And wept into the cold tear stained pillow, screaming into it like it was my last shot at everything I could ever have been. And once I felt numb enough to pretend that it wouldn't bother me anymore I let the small sobs escape my quivering lips and I destroyed the barrage of words that was my 2 A.M. thoughts. And instead willed my hands to let the fingers dance once more as I typed:

You're coming back, right?

_____

You're coming back right (sent 2:35 A.M.)
  (read 2:36 A.M.)

. . .

And the dots they came.
And I waited.
But inevitably,
Just like you,
They left me with the question:
You're coming back, right?

I don't need to list the reasons,
What I need is a reason not to.
You've heard me talk like this before.
And somehow my silence seems like a bandaid-
Like maybe if I just don't talk about it
Everything will get better.
Maybe if enough time passes,
It will all, eventually, heal.
But that is *******.
I don't need your permission,
**** forgiveness.
My intentions have their own agenda
But it's never hidden.
Quite the opposite- I'm plain sight.
Don't have to wait for night
To let the darkness take me.
I'm honest, open,
And honestly I'd rather be sleeping
In a closed casket; no one
Wants to see my blown off brain bits
And some teeth meshed with leftover tendonis threads
Dangling from my severed neck.
But those tooth shards are smiling-
The bandaid has been ripped off
The time has ran out,
Sand in my mouth.
Dirt where my eye sockets used to be.
This isn't me,
This whole "life" thing...
I don't need to list the reasons.

I never signed up for this ****-
Where do I **check out.

I watch as the already exhaled smoke floats in front of me
Dancing decievingly
Convincing me it isn't leaving.
Unfortunately I've convinced myself the same
The smoke fades nearly unnoticed

See, I'm not a fool & I'm far too observant not to notice
Although not foolish, I foolishly believe the smoke will stay
And as the smoke drifts about I notice my own pattern...

I always convince myself that when its practically impossible, something or someone will stay. Just like this cigarette,  this pattern is killing me. slowly
The smoke finally disappears into the crisp air
**This time I sigh in relief