Everything has an ending.
Today, my shift at work ended, and I walked to my car. On the way home, I listened to Balance and Composure, and I thought about their breakup a few months ago. Two years ago, my friend and I saw them at the Mohawk. I wish that I had known that it was going to be the first and last time I saw them live. I would have gone a little crazier, I would have stage dived, and I would have brushed up on the lyrics a little more.
On the drive home, I also had my window rolled down. The sunset looks prettier without glass in front of it. I thought about how days end, and how, on the end of this particular day, I didn't cry on the way home because my sadness had temporarily ended. I started thinking about the ending of more things.
High school had finally ended, and I had graduated. I was eighteen now, and being a child had ended as well. Friendships have ended, and there have been times when I wished that my ending would come sooner. There were times when I didn’t want to see another sunset, hear another morning dove, or get myself out of bed. There were times when I wished that I could drown in the crowded hallway’s sea of bodies. Sometimes, when I read I count how many pages there are between where I am and the end of the book. I wish that I could just be patient, enjoy things instead of worrying about when they’re going to end.
I think about the future too much. I think about the inevitable. I wish that I had known when the last time was going to be the last time.
I would have stage dived, I would have told you that I cared for you and made you understand that, I would have told you that I loved you, I would have spit in your face and told you to go to hell, and I would have gotten the courage to start a conversation with you instead of biting my tongue out of fear that I would say something stupid and stutter, like I do every time that I get nervous.
But I’ll keep the window rolled up so nobody has to listen to the music; if they don’t ask, then don’t tell. I’ll keep quiet. Does the end of something even matter if nobody cared enough to be a part of it’s journey?

Heart pounding
Hands shaking
b r e a t h e

Palms sweating
Still faking
b r e a t h e

Brain frying
Lips drying
Still trying
b r e a t h e...b r e a t h e...b r e--

...I can't breathe.

I ask you questions
To get answers
And to better understand
So I don't seem nervous;
Yet I am still uneasy
Because I am prepared to fail
Rather than succeed.

My breath made visible clouds into the winter night as I spoke to you through the phone.
I spoke with honesty,
          “I’m Just a Nervous Kid.”
In which you replied.
          “We All Are.”
And with that, I knew... I knew I could trust you.

"Come view this sight!"
Can I help myself?
She can help herself .
It's quite the night,
So let's slow down.
Am I fast?

I want this to last
I should ask around.
Hopeful you'll ask,
About this trick
Let's keep this chat not so quick.
Let's get going
But no need to stay distant.

I'm pretty consistent.
I'm bad at showing,
I care.
I know it's unfair.
Let's get tea,
maybe we'll see.

a body filled with familiar dread
you might say my body is already dead
my head is said to be quite fretful
took moments of quietude for granted;
and now i’m constantly regretful

the restlessness of my emotions
address my state of mind
and the distressed thoughts run around my head like guerrilas
they know they are running out of time
my jittery heart runs rampant
like a broken clock
and my only wish is for all of this to stop

the apprehension creates a detonation
a complete eradication of my elation
because my body is filled with familiar dread
and my body feels like it’s already dead