"One day I met a boy,
who instantly took my breath away.
Just a glimpse of his smile made me dizzy,
and talking to him left my mind in chaos.
For on this one day everything changed.
My life now felt happier like it had more meaning,
and I had a reason to wake up in the morning.
It is several months later now and still those green eyes lure me in.
Although there have been rough patches,
and the times where we both just disappeared into ourselves,
we still make our way back to each other,
and in those moments,
where we are completely intertwined,
it is sweet sweet bliss."

Perfect love is rare,
Perfect love is hard to get,
Perfect love is hard to accept,
Perfect love is hard to find,
Perfect is an every man and women dream,
You date this girl or boy band you think she is the one,
But she isn't,
Then you date the next girl or boy and it turns out she or he isn't the one,
It continues you on and on,
You losing luck,
You don't know what to do,
Your confused,
Upset about everything,
Desperately want the right woman,
Knowing your letting darkness gets closer and closer to you,
I see it in the corner in my eye,
It's here because it feels my weakness,
It feels my suffering,
it feels my sadness and rage,
Sometimes I think the evil is right beside me, I turn around and it's gone.
I'm seeing things,
It know that love is what I want, and it's absorbing all my hopes for that dream,
It's getting closer and closer,
What do you want? what, what do you want? ah
I love this girl,
no no I love this girl,
You know what forget it, i'm just left alone with a voice in my head saying.. I can't find her, and death is on my back... waiting...

Always torn between two ideals, its the crazy person way of life. Is there a way to ever rid of the issue or is coping all I have?

The fact that since my fingers can't stop typing I know I will only allow myself 30 mins of intense late night creativity and then make myself shower because showering helps me calms my twitches only shows how deep into this rabbit hole I've gone.

Average idealist me would like to think one day I could really be normal.

Crazy idealist me/pessimist me would say I would not be me and hate myself without the disorder and I will never get rid of this thing on my back.

But hell, honestly, I don't even know if this is about the **** disorder in my head right now. It might be about how long I've spent on this godforsaken planet and felt like I've impacted barely anything. I want to do things, I want to get out there and make some difference that eventually makes me feel like I am doing something worthwhile. Not just spending too much time in my day just so I can convince myself to go to sleep.

I've always hated the concept of sleep; its so much waste. We only have, if we're lucky, 100 years on this planet and we are spending at least 8 hours of each 24 hours in a day on ******* nothing? Its such a **** waste. One of the few things I truly do miss about the ******* crazy, I barely needed sleep. But now that I'm medicated and sort of relatively sane, I need the 8 hours like every dumb recharging bloke. God, I hate sleep.

I guess the less I'm around people the more I feel like I need to work my *** off to do something to impact and help and connect with others. This summer has become more and more solitary and I know, I understand nothing can always be Grace's happy fun sunshine friendship land. But for ****'s sake no wonder I was batshit when I was younger. I had even less of an impact on anything.

I need to find something.  I need to find something that connect me to people, even if indirectly. I cannot spend anymore ******* time feeling like its never enough, only to drive my *** back hard towards the crazy ledge I teeter on. I'm going to ******* burn out if I only keep on pushing. I love working towards being an author, its my biggest dream that I cannot wait to make true, but....

I might have to take a break from it to keep myself steady enough to get there. I might need to find another all consuming creative outlet to keep me from feeling like a **** idiot stuck in a box just twiddling her thumbs away. I love writing, but without people around who inspire me and make me smile its hard to keep on going when I can't get the feeling I'm bettering something. I know I am, but with every word my beloved novel feels more stale. I can't let myself hate the novel I believe could actually do some good, especially if its only cause the crazy can't take care of itself.

**** me for having to take out my biggest passion to cope with my own stupid **** head. But for a summer that gets me ahead in literally every other aspect of my life?

The love of my life just might have to take the hit.

I have always hoped that you wouldnt get close enough
To catch the sharp ends of my personality
But with each slice to your ego
And every tear to your flesh
You seemed to tear me too
And when we got close enough
To inspect each others wounds
I looked into your eyes and saw my whole life flash
And I retracted my claws and hugged you tight
I never wanna let go

I have a bonfire heart.
a love that burns deep red.
with the rise and fall of my chest it sirs, warming those around me.
but as the fire dwells down and the embers burn, the people leave.
who sticks around when the fire is at its lowest.
i have a bonfire heart.

The stars rest in your eyes
Nothing about you i can despise
When days are cloudy
and roads are rough
I'll be standing tough
Next to you
Never through
Wishing to stay forever
I wave goodbye
Until another
I love you
I'm being true
I love you
I really do

I'm sorry, I'm not like
You all.
Not in the way that I'm special, or set apart,
Just different, for some reason
A difficult different.

I'm sorry my conversations
Are ****, and
I can't find the right things to say. I wish I
Could talk about Narnia, and give
Up space forever.

I'm sorry I haven't always
Been here,
One of your core memebers; I'm just
"More comfortable" on my own
On the benches.

I'm sorry I'm trying to steal her,
Your youngest love;
If I could give up these dreams of being
My own, our own, our own something
Great, I would.

I'm sorry I can't be banal, with a
Simple job in a simple town,
Content with what I know and doing just
Enough to get by on these broken
Parts of mine.

I'm sorry I can't love TV and video
Games the way you do,
To know them and talk about them as
Your friend is something I may
Never know.

I'm sorry I can't be a bonus son
Like the other.
But I love what I do, and though it may seem
Useless it's mine, and I'll do it for
Me, for her, for us.

I know none of you don't mean it, I know
Somehow it's in my head -- but
It's an uphill battle, and you're
Throwing boulders.

Lets have rough ***
in the courtyard of our kingdom
while the peasants and jester watch.

"Is that the king?"
"Yes. Both of them,
****. Did he just hit h~?"
"Yup. That was a moan."
Pan flutes.
Lutes.
purple green and gold garb.
There's a bunch of knights training in archery
and somebody in a far corner of some ocean
plotting to ride their horses here and declare seige.
But right now
it's the first of may
and we're just throwing each other around on the grass
under the flag of our castle
that we founded on voyeurism and being good at what we do
Which today is rough ***
In the grass
Of a game of thrones set.

staring out windows
her calloused hand in mine is
all i can think of