Television makes it sound like a fun, 30-60 minute adventure into the lives of our favorite comedy or drama characters. But not for me. For me, an episode swells up through my soul and eats me from the inside out. The story doesn't get a comic relief, or a satisfying arc.

All it gets is cyclical, depressed me.

Where creativity and dreams once thrived, there lives a barren waste of hopelessness. Its like my body is in constant phasing shifts between dimensions. One place, I'm normal. I'm a writer in a dry spot trying to figure out where to go from here. Another, the world and my mind are boundless and I could be on the precipice of becoming exactly who I want to be, whoever she may be. And the last, everything's been gutted and that shadow of a woman dreaming has been reaped of her happiness; there's nowhere good on the horizen, only desolation.

If my moods were a television series, they'd only leave fans dissatisfied and sad. They get to watch a hopeful stargirl dream of the universe only for her body to crush her mind from the inside. Its like watching her sharply get possessed, like watching a hopeful underdog tale with the ghost looming quietly in every shot. Before anyone would know it, this star story turned into a horror-fest.

Like this, I'm so tired. I'm not someone wanting to make the world better. I'm not a writer with big, celestial dreams. I'm not a woman on the cusp of adulthood and the truths of her future.

I'm a wanderer, lost in the nuclear fallout of her own head. And its exhausting.

That's not an episode anyone really ever wants to see.

if it appears that
my poems lack conviction,
it's because they do.

my words: white noise on
a radio brain, and i
can't change the station.

as i bleed my heart out on this keyboard
you instantly flashed in my mind
my face in between your large hands, as you started to lean forward making our forehead's touch

i do not write for you,
i write about you
more importantly, the little things you do
like how you rests your hand, particularly your right hand on my thigh or how you'd take mine and press them against your chest while whispering to me how much they made your heart race

i remember how childish of us to pass a stupid crumpled note
back and forth
just to exchange i love you's
but i love to watch that smile slowly stretches across your plump lips

we're tangled in the sheets, strong arms wrapped around me
it certainly felt like home
your scent sinks deeper into my skin
i hope you don't see my hands reaching out just to touch yours

i'm running out of words
i think you have given me enough to write about that even flowers grew on paper

if i were you
i wouldn't fall for a poet
they may be good at making you feel overwhelmed
they can make you fall through their actions
but they'll make you fall even harder with their words

falling for a poet is quite easy
they say,
they're gonna be spending a whole day
pouring their heart out
while tapping their pens rhythmically
with trembling hands
as they write about
your date nights,
movie marathons
and play fights
it will all be written on a piece of paper

i am a poet
i can make you experience life
in comparison to a rollercoaster ride
through poetry
i'm a woman of many emotions
you'll sometimes get confused
about how my brain ticks
i'll write about
the car rides under the stars
and under the city lights
i'll give you the sun,
the moon,
the universe
name it

i'd offer a blank page
and every stanzas
only for you
word per word
line per line
will be spoken with emotion

in photography
every moment was being captured
by the photographer
as well as in poetry
your actions towards a poet
could mean a lot
you'll be surprised
i write
even the heartaches
you have caused
so i wouldn't forget
the pain you inflicted
but i'd still thank you, eventually
for it wasn't for you,
i wouldn't be able to write this

I do not write for you
I write about you..
Well not about you, about you
but about what you would be
had I wanted to add
a new character
to my fiction

ok i'm not sure how many of you all know this but even though hellopoetry is my main writing outlet because its AMAZING but  i also write stories. one that i'm working on right now is a psychological horror fiction. that goes along the journey of young 7th grader Jamie Magil.

this is going to be somewhat of a real story as well, with reader having to fit pieces together and different websites they'd have to go through.

if you like that sound of this please click his link to keep up with this story which turns from incorrect journal to the diary of a broken lovesick child.

https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/154150344-****-you-middle-school

A line of emotion
Ended with a full stop
Ready for a picturesque funurel
Upon these pages