What happens when you start to give up?
You feel less? You try less? you do less?
Not really
Giving up doesnt just mean you just stop
It means you are letting go.
Leaving what you once had behind.
So when you sit there and say you are giving up,
Are you really willing to let yourself become different?
Change what you thought of and let go of what you had?
Giving up. A simple phrase that means much more then people think.
It doesn't just affect you but also the ones close to you.
They notice this change, this doubt, and this pain.
Yes its a pain, That shows bright as day.
So next time you are giving up, Ask yourself this,
"Am I ready to let go? Am I ready to move on?"
Because if you make a mistake,
Things wont be the same when you try and go back.

Cravings for the light
my skin tinted blue
The darkness imposing
But whence my return to the light above





                       all I want is the pain and chains of below

Why do I give you this hold on me?
I've let you in year after year, and you say I'm in your world too.
Yet the facts point to something else.
You hide from me. You put limits on what we are and what we could be.
You lie. Good intent or ill will has yet to be determined,
however, to me, a lie is a lie. And you know that.

You act as if I'm just a side show in your life.
Something that can be there for your entertainment if the main event isn't what you hoped for.
I'm a distraction.
And I can feel it.

The one willing to do anything for you is the one you want the least.
It's a curse I've put on myself by waiting on you hand and foot for years.
Unnoticed and underappriciated.

The little recognition I get comes few and far between.
You say I'm everything you want,
but actions speak louder than words.
So far, your actions have hurt
a deep soul wrenching pain of questioning inside my heart.
"Why her and not me?
She doesn't treat him well.
She isn't there when he breaks."

But in the end, she is the one he'll run to.
Always.

i laid down across the desks
     like always
and started writing
     like always.

i felt her hands on the back of
my upper thigh
she wasn't trying to arouse me
but i could feel her little fingers
bumping up my thigh in
a rhythm, thumping while she texted on her phone
and i felt a light touch on my ****
a packet of papers
and another pair of hands doing work
on their work
on my ****
and i felt the light massages of her fingers on my thigh
and i wondered if other girls felt this way
when they were touched
and i wondered what made me different
and if i was different.

What is my image?
How do you see me?

Hippie, Emo, Rocker, Tough, Strange, Metal, Hipster, Child
Am I the words you would use to describe me?

What do you see?
What am I to you?

Am I the clothes I wear?
Am I the color of my eyes?
Am I the music I listen to, or the bands I obsess over?
Am I the games I play?
Am I the knowledge I've retained?
Am I the the breath on your neck, or the softness of my lips?

How am I doing?
Do I live up to your expectations?
When you see me, what have I done to deserve your reaction?
Am I the memories we share?
Am I the photos I take?
Am I my depression?
Am I the change in my appearance?
Am I the eloquence in my step?
Am I who you thought I was when you met me?

What do I smell like?
Are my hands cold, or are your hands warm?

Am I the weight I shed when food is tasteless?
Am I the skin that pales in winter and browns nicely in sun?
Am I the socks I don't wear?
Am I somebody's ex?
Am I alone?
Am I my sexuality?
Am I the colors in my head?

Do you remember why you started to call my name, and stopped yourself?

Am I normal?
Am I out there?
Am I somebody worth your time?

Am I hungry, or is this just a passing phase too?

What visuals do I bring to mind when you think of mewhen I cross your mind?
Do I infect you with curiousity and a taste for the Earth?

Am I beautiful when my acne is red and my makeup smudged?
Am I the sounds I make in my sleep?
Am I the faces I make in the mirror when I'm alone?
Am I the texts I send when I'm too tired to think?
Am I the shape of my silhouette?

What goes through your head at 3 am on a Wednesday?
If you could stand outside of your skin, would you approve of your own visage?

Am I the song I always sing in the shower?
Am I the voice I use when I wake up in the morning?
Am I the space I occupy?
Am I my number of days I have survived?
Am I the days I have left?
Am I my mistakes, or my successes?
Am I the people I have saved?

What stands out more, my flaws or my laughter?

Am I the food I pretend to eat, then throw away?
Am I the short white scars on my arms?
Am I the person I want to be?
Am I the debt I owe?
Am I someone you think about often?
Am I the moment we shared when it was just the two of us?
Am I the secrets I keep?
Am I going to be a mother someday?

If you spent every day with me for a year, would you grow tired of me?
If you could see the world the way I do, would it change you?
If you could sit inside my mind while I think and just observe, would you judge me?

Am I the voice I use to sing when my headphones are so loud I can't hear myself?
Am I the smile I wear when I would rather drive nails through my skin?
Am I the diseases running through my body?
Am I still alive if I don't feel a heartbeat?
Am I my blood type?
Am I the effort I put into life?
Am I meant to be this way?

If I wasn't me, would I die for me?







Am I?
Are you?

But do not let this
Rub you the wrong way
I love you
But I'm not in love with you.
I mean, surely
I could be in love with you
          *But I'm too inexperienced to tell a difference between the two