and it took me some time
to realize that i was dating
a boy
not a man
that i wasn't looking
for a boyfriend
i was looking for a dad
hold on a second
its not what it seems
theres no oedipus complex
this isn't ******-y
this is a girl
who can never love a man
this is a girl
who never had a dad
this is a girl
that wants love-
the pure kind-
the lets go for icecream at 3am
lets go to the park
lets name all the animals at the zoo
this is the girl looking for protection
by sticking her head in the cage
her safety net
is a beard and colored eyes
and it took her time to realize
that every boy that smiles at you
doesn't mean well
and when they say they love you
don't think they will hesitate before they leave you
because they won't
don't
be fooled by their smiling eyes
girl you need to realize
your father loved you
and he meant well
still
he left and these boys no they don't love you the way he did
they won't save you from the demons in your head
baby girl
still
lie still and know
that "boy" isn't a safe word
and "man" doesn't mean love
and that the bridge between those who stay
and those who leave
is jammed with those
who said they'd be
here.
stop looking for a man.
stop looking for a dad.
you-
you
are enough.

please dont ask me if i miss it when you know that i do,
please dont ask me how it felt to sit in the passenger seat of your car every day for four months straight.
because i will tell you.
how it felt like yellow lights in a dimly lit café on monday nights,
like ***** snow underneath your tires,
like a resurrection of fresh air after feeling trapped since september.
every now and then i come back to this.
now that it's february and i cant remember what your house smelt like.
i often wonder what your parents think happened to me. and your sister.
i've started to wonder if i would have gone to her wedding with you.
i hope she's happy, and i hope you are too.
don't get me wrong, i needed you to leave i know i did.
sometimes it doesn't feel like you did much for me although i know you did.
sometimes it doesn't feel like you were ever part of me although i know you were.
now that it's the end of february the weather has started to become lighter and i keep finding myself rolling the window down, making the music louder and wanting to sing, wanting to smile, wanting to feel what it's like to be euphoric again and i just, can't.
not right now.
i don't know if a year later can be considered "too soon" but i do know
that i hate you, and the way you made the snow feel like you so now i dont even feel at home when i look out my bedroom window.
i hate you, and the way you made the car feel like our safe space so now i don't feel safe when i'm driving with my mother.
i hate you, and the way you made me think that you would stay,
the way you made me feel like you were going to be a part of my family
the way you threw me away as if it was easy for you.
i hate you for everything that reminds me of you like guitars and troye sivan and sleepovers and driving down the ******* highway and being someone that cares about you so much i'd miss saying goodbye to my dad to spend another night with you.
so don't,
do not
ask me if i miss it
when you think you know that i do.
because i don't miss any of it.
not anymore.

I've had bad days for as long as I can remember,
Anxiety, loneliness and depression swirling in my head.

(You might think loneliness and depression are the same but that's not true, loneliness is just a SYMPTOM of depression)

I used to have good days,
Light,
Days,
Where it didn't hurt as much,
Any more,
But these bad days come back,
And the came,
And they stayed,
For weeks at a time,
Anxiety had me mumbling,
"I'm fine"'s

(The actual act of being 'fine' is something I've never had the privilege of experiencing)

I got so many bad days,
My therapist,
(Along with my mother)
Tried to convince me they weren't,
ALL bad.

So,
I'm depressed, turned into:
The weather,
And, I'm alone,
Turned into:
Call your friends!
And,
I'm suicidal,
Turned into:
Philosophical.

I don't think you understand...

That this plan,
Of telling me my feelings aren't real,
Or that I shouldn't feel what I feel when I'm feeling it.
Isn't helping me,
Or saving me.
Because I remember being 12,
In an emergency room,
With death on my mind,
And burns on my wrist,
Being told,
I couldn't be admitted to a mental ward,
Because they only accept 13 year olds,
That, the qualifications,
Where there,
That I wanted to die,
But You were,
Just to young,
To be feeling,
What you were feeling,
When you were feeling it.

Love hard, my friends. Love noticeably.


Love does not deserve to be shoved under the rug, to be disguised, or to be quieted. Love does not mean conforming to the idea that genuine affection is “sappy,” “cheesy,” or “cringeworthy”; instead-- love loudly.


The world wants to tell you that relationships are to be silenced. That posting multiple photographs of each other is tacky, uncomfortable, and something to make fun of. That devoting time with your favorite human being is disgusting, overbearing-- especially when you are young and the future does not exist in your hands.


Too bad, future. And how unfortunate, world. Because at the end of the day, the world does not own love. You do. It is yours to have, to keep, to share, and to do whatever it takes to hold onto it. It is mine.


When you find love, shout it from the rooftops and frame a million photographs. Post selfies of the two of you smiling wide and unwavering. Wear its colors on your face and shamelessly declare it to the whole universe and beyond: You are in love. You are alive.
And likewise, this is my philosophy: Love intentionally, fiercely, tirelessly.


Love so hard it makes people dizzy. Take it as a compliment. In an exhausted world that spins with violence, hatred, and monstrosity-- praise its joys. Snap those pictures.Tell your friends. Scrapbook it, publish it, make art out of it. Laugh about it, display it, live it. Put an end to the grotesque concept that something so beautiful, perhaps life’s most magnificent, should be sheltered. Let it grow.


This is a declaration. I am boisterously in love. There is no quiet here.
One day, you will find someone or something that your heart will never be able to shut up about. And that’s okay. Let it scream.

See Moe with a cup of joe,
***** hair, he's old.
There's his toes through his
socks, basically bone.
The rains made his
calling card runny.
He says he wouldn't have it if
he got his car running.

His excuses are pitiful,
he's sticking anticubitals,
Planning a funeral
But he'll wake up per usual
With a cop bop of the
Top of his head.
Wipe the sleep, find a corner
Shake his hand for some bread.
The coins don't fill up in
Des Moines though.

His kinfolk don't recognize
Him anymore-
Ain't that something?
Used to break bread
But took off running.
Didn't even look back when
They heard that he was bumming.

Moe can't get out of this hole.
Chasing charlie really took its toll.
Now he's the saddest thing on Euclid
And it's stupid.
Went and fought for freedom just
To come home and lose it.

The poor man, can't even afford
A storage can.
Old school hobo
Played war with his hands.
Now we don't even give a ****.
Now he's asking around for a bullet
He can swallow.
This what happens when your soul goes hollow.
What fills him rage is he lied about his age.
Woulda been a different story if
This fib wasn't played

Depression is a void, an empty ocean.
I dont want to go there, but she tells me to come anyways and I obediently follow.
Away from the hills and through the city, she reintroduces me to my two old friends,
Grief and Pity.
It's been a while, though they do not ask me how I've been. Its always been all about them.
I hate her for taking me here, but i have no choice, she knows the way because we've been there together before.
She knows how to navigate the steep cliffs, lies, narrow paths and empty eyes.
How silly of me to think that I could forget, so many times it was where I lived, cried and slept, I could NEVER forget.
I think I'll stay here a while, after all. Shes blocked the exit on the other side of the hall, but i dont mind because this comfort is mine.
Depression and my two old friends, three if you count her. I didnt miss them but I dont feel out of place here, they know me so well.
So I take another drag from my cigarette and I let the void swallow me.

cannot create a thing anymore
threaded from thoughts the spool has been used to the very last,
do you see?
i have became what i hated
gray areas and words faded.
No truths and dead lies on paper,
I read between lines, but
my words have become
nothing but everybodies style.
I wanna reach and contain it,
Remember / obtain it.
Sitting here with the timekeepers
hand on my fingertips,
do you know what i mean?
of course you don't /
something dies / and i cant explain what i need.

He wears his solivagant demeanor like armor; your battle of love will never scratch his silver plated chest, your swords will never pierce the walls inside his ribcage called, "home" Home is where the heart is and he flatlined a long time ago; broken heart syndrome only has only 11 documented cases of death, but something snapped inside that boy that day and I think about how they never mention that you can die on the inside, too.
He says cigarettes are a way to manipulate time, that sand is just sand if you don't know how much you have left in your hourglass, and I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
You could've called us time travelers, we were making best friends with the moon and the stars as we breathed in the promise of calm, an ashen beach lay beneath us. Sand is just sand, after all.
The confessions of an insomniac, the stream of unfiltered emotion laying open, so vulnerable- how terribly sad it looks in the light.

I think you leave little bits of yourself in the trees
I can always see you in them
Your energy is constantly intertwining with nature
And when I'm in nature it's almost like you're there; in the mountains, the trees, the wildflowers.
It's the tsunami waves of missing you
It's the warm sunny days where everything is alive and singing, "He's all around you, just look."
It's that feeling that you get when you're on a mountain looking up at the sky and realizing how small you really are.
You're the boy who plays with the moon, and I'm the girl watching, mesmerized by the way you two move.  
It's that moment when you love nature so much that it crushes you, because you know that you don't belong.
We are built to destroy, and the world deserves so much better than that.
I know I am a disaster, but you make me feel less evil than I've made myself out to be.
I feel more like a tree when I'm with you.