your eyes
focused on me
until i look back at you
you shyly turn away
and i’m left to wonder
whether i’m crazy
or you feel the same way

to be in love is such a beautiful thing
if you are unafraid of the heartbreak
that is sure to come
one of these days
when the realization that keeping secrets of our
own means that they must have
some secrets they are holding from you on
how they act and they talk when
you’re not around
and it ***** and it hurts
almost as much as when you realize that


being in love can be a beautiful thing
if you don’t mind the occasional
one sided worshipping
on the broken pew of your heart
thinking about the future and the possibility that things might
or will
fall apart


being in love can be a beautiful thing
as long as you’re okay with constant static
lingering in the street light of their love
found flickering directly above the lonely
bench on the corner of melancholy st. where
it’s okay to sit in the haze and in the rain
because you have their love keeping you warm


being in love is nice
if you never mind being a
masterpiece never balanced, some sort
of discord throwing everything off
doomed to a composition but
never remaining composed

being in love is nice if you can love
in the dark because
in the light,
in the light there’s nothing to see
most times
if only a blank gaze at best
but you flip the switch
and love in the dark anyways because you know
it’s what you do best


being in love is alright if the
idea of having them at their worst and
not only at their best doesn’t
scare you too much
because being in love sometimes means
falling in love with them at their worst
and learning to love unconditionally


being in love is alright if
you can learn to treasure the time spent
away from them
knowing that the time apart is what makes
the time together
the sweetest
and that it’s worth it in the end


to be in love is fine
I guess
if at every notion of their success
you feel a happy sadness in your chest-
the happiness for theirs
and the sadness in finding
that the joy you
bring them might be
surpassed and the slightest thought
of that is just enough
to remind you that someday
you could be replaced


but don’t get me wrong,
please don’t get me wrong

to be in love  is to understand that
you’ll never have all of them-
to understand that in the storm of their body
and the nourishment of their breath
must come with the lightning and
maybe that’s why people call people
in love
lovestruck


but hey,

to be in love

to be in love is one of the
most pure things on earth
where the worst part is the innocence
and the best part  is the innocence
and the fragility
and the glow
and the fulfillment
and the loving in the dark
and living in the light

oh, to be in love
is the greatest thing because
somehow
loving a
silent film masterpiece
where their eyes never speak
is all you’ve ever needed

I’m doing fine.
I hugged an actor I like, and for some reason that stirred an emotion that I would classify as Foreign to me, happiness.
I am a passing fan and I know he forgot all about me by now, and yet meeting him made me feel like I could accomplish anything I’ve ever wanted. It’s silly, I know.
My cycle of self loathing is breaking and mending itself, and I’m stuck dealing with the shards and broken pieces that I pick up after myself, after my own destructive mind manages to break me.
I am scared- no, terrified, of the future. I’m scared of becoming a failure and I’m scared of becoming something I’ll end up hating. I’m scared of a stable life and a nine to five job. I’m scared of leaving my dreams behind in a desk drawer and continuing to live as a copy of everyone else.
Safe, in my comfort zone. Locking away my passions and dreams as phases of youth.
I’m doing fine.
I keep doubting every single decision I ever made. And I keep trying to cry out my fear and confusion to no avail. I keep drawing lines upon lines on a blank paper, somehow trying to see a meaning, or a sign, in between for me to keep going. To keep living.
I’m doing fine. I’m doing fine. I’m doing fine.
There’s a roof above my head and food on my table, there’s a bed for me to sleep on and I’m financially stable. So what is it? Why am I up at night feeling sorry for myself? Why am i complicating simple things?
I wish my brain would stop working. I wish I could play silence as a song. Loud and deafening. I wish I could stop my own mind.
I’m doing fine.
My friend is miserable and I am of no help, everything I try to mend ends up breaking. I’ve never felt so helpless. I love her to death. I love her more than I could fathom.  
I’m doing fine,
But
My soul is decaying.
I’m rotting away.
I need help.

I
Just love
How we fall
In to
And for
Each other
Again and again

As if
Any of those
Times I've had
You before
Would make me less
Want you more