to my muse:

I thought I had everything under control before I met you.
Then you came in, saw dimly lit candles and decided to turn all my lights on.
You accepted my terms and conditions, signed the waiver before you even got a chance to read them.
You turned all of my knobs like you had been here before or someone slipped you the blue print.
I was speechless because this isn’t your everyday pub, it’s a speakeasy and I just changed the password so who told you?
Who told you what to say and how to say it?
This game was a prerelease and you already had cheat codes.
I want to say it was beginner’s luck, a fluke, or an accident because I don’t want to believe that you’re that good.
I don’t want to believe I’m no different than everyone before me.
I want to believe in coincidence. serendipity. fate.
I want to think that there’s a first left for me even when there’s been so many before me.
How could it be me?
How could you automatically know I was your puzzle piece when I was in completely different box?
Take a second and think about it before you answer or don’t at all.
None of it will matter, I’ll want you regardless.
That’s the only thing I don’t want to question

self love is important
you just hit rock bottom
again
now you’re crying
but you don’t want compliments
you don’t want attention
but ******* pay attention to me
how am i yelling at the top of my lungs and you still can’t hear me..
you’re fat and you’re unhappy
you’re perfect
you’re struggling
you’re killing yourself
but you don’t wanna die yet
i want to die living
or just die
stop being a hypocrite
i’m not
telling everyone else to love themselves meanwhile..
it’s different
it’s not

i've always been better at venting to strangers.
if you're reading this and i can't vent to you, then yes you are the problem. i don't want your judgement when i already know what i did wrong. people i want don't want me, but it's probably too late because we've had *** and now it's gone too far. if you're reading this, i don't want you, but i do. I used you like people used me and now i don't know if i ****** you to get over him.. but i'm not over him and i don't deserve you, you're so nice and I ******* want that.. i just want someone to be ******* nice to me so now i'm questioning myself on why he couldn't be nice to me instead of paying attention to how great you are in my face. i don't want you. i need you. I need a lot of **** though..

- a poem he'll never get to read