I found you,
at least I think I have.
I mean, I'm staring at this blank page writing another poem,
so that's probably not a good sign.
but you look like her, perfect.
and I'm not lying to butter you up or some ****, but they say beauty is in the eyes of the beholder
and you're the garden of my eye, more than just the apple of Eden.
It's amazing that you've saved me twice and probably didn't even know.
I really only feel safe around you but I could never tell you that.
I guess you already know I like you, but I don't know if you can feel the love,
or even the genuine care I have for you. Saddest thing is I don't know how you feel about me.
If I'm a ******
A freak
A psychopath
A demon
A pessimist
A school shooter
A bully
A manipulator
A needy little ****
or perfect.
My ******* told you I didn't want to know, which was obviously a lie.
It's not that I don't want to know I just don't know if I can take it or not.
I just refuse to let my condition affect anyone more than it already has.
I mean for ****'s sake I genuinely make Ashley and Sam cry when I try to **** myself
and you expect me to just let you in, knowing you might be as broken as I am?
You mightn't show it but I know it; and that's the kinda **** I think is crazy.
That you don't have to say a word and somehow I just know.
At least I guess I do, we both know I'm ****** in the head.
But if you're curious, I'd never let you hear these poems.
I hate showing my emotions and these poems are my deepest, most damaged thoughts.
They say talking helps but all I've done is brought pain to the people I care about so sorry if I'm reluctant to hurt you.
To let you hear these would be to let you into my soul and I think that's way too deep and maddening for a first date.
At the same time I feel like you need to hear these, I guess to help you get perspective,
aside from the fact I'm scared of losing you to someone else.
But **** my feelings I've always been afraid and I can't bully you into making you into think that you have to feel the same way.
Even though you do have to feel the same, I feel like one more crack and I'll be all the way broken and trust me,
when that happens it's game over.
See? there I go again subconsciously trying to manipulate people. This is why you can never read these.
The parts of me that NO-ONE else knows about are just here on full display.
It feels like if people knew who I really was they'd treat me like a monster,
but I guess they're way ahead of me.
I can't help the way I feel but I can help who knows and for now I guess you'll have to guess at my motivations.
Cuz guess what? I don't trust myself not to push you away with my impatience.
And that's why you can never read these. There is just WAY too much of, well, me.
Kinda weird how I think the one person who's my anchor could never know what's above the surface.
And why is my depth overhead instead of undersea? well cuz I've said it before, I'm ****** in the head.
And in this world that I think you think is real, where surrealism has blended what we think and what we feel
you can look up and not see the stars, but that you've been keeping me grounded.
Which is why I guess you should read these, so you can know how crazy I am as a forewarning
or just to let you know I see what you see too if this is really what you see.
I guess I always make conflict in my head because of that demon half of mine.
Trust me I could know for a fact that you love me and still look for my problems
because at the core of the problem I have a problem with myself, all 3 of me.
The demon, the hippie and the drifter.
The demon hates everyone and everything including itself
The hippie loves but only accounts for about a quarter of my mental health
and the drifter is my actual brain, just going with whatever.
And I guess since the demon is twice as strong as the hippie that's why I hate myself. I rationalize it like this because it's the only way any of this makes sense to me.
guess that's what everyone else is talking about. Saying I need to love myself,
but just look at this poem for evidence. I really do hate myself;
to the point where I'd find it inconceivable for someone else to love me.
But Kaymark does, at least that's what he says,
I know hundreds of times he's had second thoughts about being my friend
SEE THERE I ******* GO AGAIN. I CAN'T EVEN FIGHT IT!
I guess this is just what I see through my eyes.
Saddest part is I wasn't even sad writing this.
These are really the everyday thoughts that go through my head
and if you made it this far I think you can handle how I feel about you.
so
I love you.
This is the sixth poem in this collection, one of my favorites; certainly the longest. I just wish you (whoever you are) will read this. I kinda hate this poem because I attached this concept of you to the first person who showed that they genuinely cared. Whether or not that's a show of my desperation for Salem or just how abstract you are is up for debate in my head.
