I don't wish for much this year
All I need is you my dear
I have food on the table, a roof over my head
Wonderful friends, a warm cozy bed
I won’t feel complete
Without you in my life
I don’t know who you are
But I dream to be your wife
I’m a hopeless romantic
I believe in till death do us part
Please my darling, don’t break my heart
I’ve been waiting for you, all of my life
Times I wanted to end it, but I didn’t pick up the knife
I believe in miracles
And that miracles come true
This is the year, the miracle will be you

If gravity is 9.8m/s², I must have been .294km in the +z direction because it only took 60 seconds for me to fall into you

—and then I hit the ground.

Yes I'm grateful I can't drink
First time in my life I can honestly think
I've drank way more than my share
It was just one big scare after scare
I had only two choices left
Put down the bottle
Or face death
I guess I wasn't ready to die
I'm still here
with no want for that glass of cheer
my life might not be perfect
But I cannot complain
I have a new freedom
I'm happy again !

Do not plan or plot
happiness.
Plant your roots deep
dig in to fertile soil,
send out words and deeds
of truth.
Then
enjoy
what comes back to you

I really hate reality
It *****, it stinks, it doesn’t work for me
I’d much rather drown
In my bottle of JD
A couple more pills, now that works for me!
I’ll drink some more
And smoke some too
I have nothing else to do
I’ll just get hammered
Until I can’t see
Blackouts are very familiar to me
I don’t have to think
I don’t have to talk
Hell, I can’t even walk
So what’s so bad about my life?
I have no idea
So put down the **** knife!

Dearest Reader,


My name is Margot Dylan, and I'm a pariah.

On the 16th of April, I told my mother that I was gay. She threw the clay mug that I made for her before she found out I was gay, against the floral, peeling wallpaper mess of a wall, in our kitchen. The decaffeinated peppermint green tea left a wonderful aroma that almost cleansed the room of the stench of 'lesbian'.

I met Dylan Dunham a few days after that, and, a few days later, she was the first girl that I ever loved.

Dylan wore a red flannel jacket, and was a butch and sometimes a *****-but I loved her even at her tomboy cruelest.

Dylan smoked a cigarette that smelled like lonerism, and she looked at me like she didn't care. My heart skipped a beat, as cliche as it sounds, whenever she would remove the cigarette from her mouth, exhale, and look at me as smoke traveled up her face. I looked at her and knew that she was everything that I wasn't, and everything that I wanted.

Dylan was Dianne, before and after school. Dylan was Dianne, who wore floral dresses and lipstick and who ditched her butch clothing in her locker before leaving. Dylan was Dianne, who was straight and who thought Tyler Wesson, from church, was cute. Dylan was Dianne, who had a short hair cut because of track and field, because she explained that she ran a faster time with less hair. Dylan was Dianne, who didn't associate with me before or after school because her parents knew that I was gay.

During school hours, the only thing Dylan did keep from Dianne was the lipstick. I was envious of the cigarette because of it's burgundy stains. We would stand in a stall, as she looked across from me, after each drag. She frequently offered her cigarettes, but I refused because I only let love **** me. If she ever brought alcohol, sometimes she'd kiss me. I told her that I loved her and she said, "I know."

The only thing that Dylan kept from me was my heart, before she started to smoke cigarettes in the bathroom with Annie Way.


I wish you the best moments so they can overcome the worst,

Margot Dylan