I used to think I was different.
That something about me, set me apart from other girls.
In truth, I was the same.
Everything about me was ordinary.

I would say I had a sense of gentleness
When really,
I’m just another sensitive little girl.

I only feel worthy when my clothes are on the floor.
I only feel worthy, when playing a *****.
Half alive, heart still beating
Head above water, yet I’m barely breathing.
I’m a mess; only secure when I’m getting undressed
I feel thats my purpose.
Without my body or looks,
I’d be worthless.

Sometimes I just need the world to stop.
I can’t take the motion of life spinning in a blur.
Things move too fast, I lose my balance.
Then I fall.
I don’t like falling.
It hurts, it’s humiliating.

I lay in the grass, watching the clouds
Head spinning at the speed of earth
I just wanted things to stop.
A giant super nova and BAM!
Oblivion would take place.

Life would stop in a swift movement.
Light reaches earth at a speed of 7 minutes.
We’d have 7 minutes of unknown bliss.
Then we’d all die.
Life itself would cease to exist.

54

If I should die,
And you should live—
And time should gurgle on—
And morn should beam—
And noon should burn—
As it has usual done—
If Birds should build as early
And Bees as bustling go—
One might depart at option
From enterprise below!
’Tis sweet to know that stocks will stand
When we with Daisies lie—
That Commerce will continue—
And Trades as briskly fly—
It makes the parting tranquil
And keeps the soul serene—
That gentlemen so sprightly
Conduct the pleasing scene!

Maybe we weren’t meant to fit
Perhaps we weren’t the correct puzzle pieces.
You could say we were trying to force it.
But that’s how I do puzzles.

I force pieces together, that clearly don’t go.
Red goes with blue,
Green goes with yellow.
It’s abstract I say.

Were we abstract?
Or maybe we weren’t meant to fit.

I drink before seeing you
I drink before seeing you because alcohol helps me make bad choices.
And you are a bad choice.
Or maybe it just allows me to place blame not on myself, but again the alcohol.
I open myself up for you, I spread my legs and let you take me.
I want it.
But I know it’s wrong.
It’s a bad choice.

It may sound stupid or vain, but I know I’m pretty. Well maybe not pretty, but attractive. I know I’m not bad looking or ugly, but I’m not a typical beauty. I know I’m not beautiful. I’m not one of those girls where you look at them and marvel at their faces and wonder why or how they got to be so beautiful. I fall between the cracks, with me in lamest terms; I’m pretty. Not beautiful, gorgeous, or stunning, just pretty.