I've had a series of dreams where things went differently then they did in real life.

Where nobody left.
And nobody was hurt.

One dream in particular keeps coming back, the one where nothing really makes sense, but it makes me feel better sometimes.

I remember running, and she was beside me.

But I immediately knew it was a dream because she was taller than me.

She's never been taller than me. And here I am...

Running beside a 5 foot 8 version of my once best friend.

What?!

This dream is so weird.. and yet it feels so normal.
She's never had to look down to see me.
Heck, she's never had a reason to look up to me either.
For height eye contact or otherwise.

And somehow this dream follows me, her, and her significant other into a building.

I'm in a hallway saying that I'm on my way to a specific room.
She says she'll follow me there.

For some reason, because this is a dream, I go to a completely different room, a shop actually.

Woodshop. Like the one I went to at school.

I don't even know what I'm doing there, I'm not sanding or doing any work, they are. I don't know what they're doing, I'm watching this alternate version of a person just...

Exist.

And suddenly she cuts her hand on a saw blade. Much like I have in shop class.

I don't panic, I grab paper towel, and start wrapping her hand.
She's gonna be fine.

She's gonna be fine..

There's no dialogue, nobody says anything, I'm just taking care of someone I care about.

This dream is just playing out.



I wake up...

I feel content and somewhat happy for a second.

But then I remember I was dreaming.

I was dreaming...

And that's okay.

But I return to a reality where none of that happened.
And I suddenly feel the utopic dream leave me.

I can't even remember most of the dream, and this is all I have.

This isn't the first time I've woken up from a better dream life to find that I'm here.

But I do need to realize that I'm here.

Despite everything.

So here we are, talking about my life again.

You have to let me feel this okay?

And fuck you if you think that we are getting better.
We're not.
You're not.

Everyone is sick of hearing about this.
Why can't you drop it?

Because it means something right?
I've fought for this.
I deserve a better ending than this.

You coward.
You've done nothing but run.
You can't keep work on track to save your life.
Everything has gone awry and you can't help but watch from the sidelines.

What the hell are you doing?
Pick yourself up and be happy like everyone tells you to.
Nobody wants to be around someone who makes them feel as sad as they are.
Your emotions are fucking contagious.
Why are you doing this to yourself?

It would be so easy to just be happy like everyone else.

But no, you decide to be a jackass and be stubborn about it.

Stop it.
STOP IT!

I don't deserve this.
Give me something else.

I will not drive myself to the edge by standing on one higher than most of my hopes.

Don't give me what can happen.
I want good and I want it from somewhere I can't comprehend.
I want my life.

Don't you?

Nobody gets what they want.

Stop.

Where are you?

Stop it.

You are fucking unbelievable.

Don't.

You're sick and susceptible to getting even more sick the more you haul your body around. You act like you're drunk, and you don't even care.

I do care.

Act like it.

I do.

Bullshit.

Nobody suspects what they can't bring themselves to see.
You don't even want help do you?
You just want this pain until you're nothing but that.

I WANT TO GO HOME..

I want to go home...

Have you been writing suicide notes again?

No.

Don't end them with "I'll be home soon".

I don't.

I don't end them because I'm not finished here.

I don't want this.
I don't need this.

YOU HAVE TO LET ME FEEL THIS.

Please.

Do not make me guilty for crimes I didn't even know existed.
People have done worse things.
And yet they get second chances all the damn time.

Where are you?
Stop it.

Who are you kidding? You're nothing.

You can't decide if you want to suffer or make others suffer for what they did to you. So instead you complain like a bitch and nothing gets done.

Why can't you just accept what happened?

Because it meant everything to me.

And nothing has happened to acknowledge how much this changed my life in the worst way possible.

Stop chasing me.  

You know I can't do that.

Haven't I already paid for all of this?

Yes?

So what gives? Something has to.

Or someone.

I already have.

And I'm ready to go home.

I'm working until I drop.

So, I guess I'll start by saying that I have not done much to accomplish my goal of staying awake. I mean, usually I can just will power my way through it. But that doesn't always work. And I don't expect it to.

Second thing, I have no idea how to combat my sleep patterns. I mean it's sort of unpredictable and inconsistent. So maybe I will sleep just because. Not because I want to, but because I can.

And my current situation is sort of battling that decision of "sleep of no sleep".

Anyways...

It's a process that I'd rather not go through at the moment. So the sleep aside, I think that excitement of getting to Paris is nothing short of overwhelming.

but the curiosity of what it's going to be like is a weird thrill. Wondering what it'll be like to live there for a week. I'm still sort of nervous about it all and I'm still getting used to the though of it all.

So I guess I won't have much more to say until we actually get there. And I can't even begin to tell you how excited I am to get there.

And so the struggle continues... Oh why can't sleep just be a simple thing on a plane? Oh wait...

I could write a meaningful story with a meaningful message for you to carry with you into the future and beyond.

No, I don't think I have enough time to create a picture in your mind of what I have to say.

There is nothing to gain or give to the words I write in the time I have left.

How about 5?

< 5. Would you be able to pull this off by then?

I can't and I have < 10.

Maybe it's easy for you, but accept the fact that it is not easy to write good poetry with purpose and meaning and feeling and anything that is important to you in < 10 minutes...

Yes, I really did write this in 10 minutes...
Talia Grace Mar 20

I sit
In the dark window sill
Staring out into the night
Letting it consume me
Letting myself become part of the night
I can feel myself disappearing
But it's okay
For the night is my friend
I don't fear it anymore
I have learnt to trust it
To let it envelop me

Every night
It comes to me
Allowing me to find comfort
It makes me numb
Taking away all the pain
But every morning
It releases me
Let's me live on my own

Some nights
I don't find comfort in the night
It betrays me
Leaving me
Alone and scared
I'd like to say
That it doesn't happen often
That the night is always there
But that would be wrong
There is no comfort
There is no safety
Only darkness

Written a year ago, but still true

Not a poet.
Not a poet.
Not a poet.
And I know it.

I wrote this last year... I think I had some poetic problems.
Jeni Feb 2016

I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.

Fourteen years old
I love you,
Called out,
A promise of returned affection
Timid, unsure
A response to
Insecurities.
Not true.

I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.

Fifteen years old
Distrustful
Cynical
Confused
Emotions flapping about like lost geese
Nothing like all the before’s
So this is what must be
True.

I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.

Sixteen years old,
That feeling
Tumultuous but calming
Broken yet whole
Lost but found
Your deep, beautiful eyes
Painful beyond belief, yet the best thing I’ve ever felt
Simply, it's true
I love you.

I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.

Seventeen years old,
It’s true
What is?
That
You’re my truth
And
I love you.

I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted yet
True.

Seventeen years old,
I love you
But…
I fucked up
I love you
But…
I kissed someone else
We never set boundaries
But….
I know I did wrong
I love you
But…
I truly can’t be with you right now.

I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.  

Seventeen years old,
You’re awesome
We’re so similar
So,
I love you?
No,
I realize that belongs to someone else,
But you think it's yours.
And that isn't true.
Shit.

I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.

Seventeen years old,
I hate myself
Because I’ve hurt you
Your pain is killing me
Though really, it’s me
Killing you
I love you,
It's true.
But,
How can you ever forgive me?

I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.

Eighteen years old,
I love you
It’s true
But you’re broken still
And I wish I could heal the horror
I caused
For you.

I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.  

Eighteen years old,
I love you
Whispered gently
Deeply
Truly
I want to kiss you
I want to hold you
I want to be with you
Can we, please?

I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.

Eighteen years old,
Yes. We can.
I love you too.
I still truly do.

I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.

Eighteen years old,
I love you
But…
Why are you doing this to me?
Why can’t you talk to me instead of hiding behind the texts?
What’s happening?
Please.
Don’t do it this way.

I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.  

Eighteen years old,
Tears
Broken
Mind exploding with assumptions
Intuition telling the worst of tales
Distrustful
Hurt
Why this pain?

I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.  

Eighteen years old,
Bitter
Am I jealous?
This isn’t good…
What’s happened to me?
Helpless and
Still true
I love you
But...
Who knows why?

I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.

Eighteen years old,
And here come apologies
A letter…. I love letters
And
I love you too
Still,
Somehow.
It's true.

I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.

Eighteen years old
I don’t know what’s wrong with me
Sad
Hurt
Insecure
Doubtful
Distrustful
Broken
Beyond belief
Empty.

I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.

Eighteen years old
And
I keep crying
I cried because you were so caring towards to me the other day
And it was so sweet.
I cried because you hugged me and let me cry on you
I cried because I love staring into your deep soulful eyes
I cried because I feel so much, all the time, for you
I cried because sometimes I truly hate how much
I love you.

I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.

Eighteen years old,
And goodnight dear one,
I still really do love you. 
And, I promise you 
All of this is true.

I was about to go to bed an hour ago. I had the light off and everything... But then I got this idea and I knew that if I went to sleep, it'd fade. Oh well, poetry is better than sleep anyways. Sometimes.

In the poem, I describe two kinds of love. That which I feel for family and friends, and that of romantic love, I guess, for lack of another description. I have only truly loved one person in the second manner, I think. I have said I love you, thinking I meant it at the time, only to realize later how far off I was.
Jeni Aug 2015

Gone like memories
trailing through the years
Back again, like deja vu
down a river of tears

Gone like ink to paper,
Gone like autumn leaves
into a momentous nothing
Gone like a mug of tea

Gone like petals
torn from a rose
Like confidence and living
A song of time, composed.

I felt really emotional for some reason one time in the after-effects of cutting my hair shorter than I liked it... this is what happened. It got deep.
Diana C Apr 2014

It's crazy how
The phone rings and
I'm disappointed that
The person I thought
I loved the most calls.
Because I realize, I can't
Love them that much
If I'm here
Wishing they were you.

— The End —