People always say that movies are just fiction.
People say that we shouldn’t listen to their messages.
But, those people don’t know of the feeling that fills me.
The feeling of Romeo and Juliet.
The feeling of butterflies taking flight in your stomach
For the very first time.
This surreal feeling swirls through my head
Even as I drift off into sleep.
Only awakened by the burning in my cheeks.
Quickly followed by the realization that my dreams
Were the only thing filling the other half of my bed.
Then the attempts to calm my restless thoughts
Only make my mind race faster.
Making it impossible to rejoin the calm sea of dreams
That cascaded through me;
Almost as if they were meant to be there.
I have no clue when I will be graced
With the presence of the one that makes these dreams occur.
The presence of the one that comforts me without trying.
The presence of the one that flew away
To a place that I once called home.
So, are movies really fiction?
If so, then I must be in a movie.
A movie full of love and sarcasm.
A movie that I will gladly star in.

I can feel the gentle, rhythmic breathing
And the tepid touch of your skin
Soon the sun will rise,
And you must go to class
But you will mutter an excuse
Just to stay a minute more with me

I can hear your soft snores,
And muffled moans
Soon we will succumb to summer,
And it’s malicious motives,
To bisect your beauty,
From my greedy grasp

I can smell the shampoo
That I will never smell again
For I will move,
And you will move,
A Dispossessed Connection

Though our spring may have ceased
Our wilted whispers will never wane
Though my bed may be devoid
I’ll remember where you had lain.

I’ll remember our long laughs
And your sweet smile, more stunning than the stars
I’ll remember our wishful words
And the times that were ours.

I am the middle man
But not the one arguments speak of
I am the middle man of people skipped over
The person to my left will always pick the person to my right
Leaving me stuck in the middle alone
Alone to think of why I'm not good enough
Alone to think about how to be the front man
Alone to think about anything
Alone to talk to myself because no one will lend an ear
Lend an ear to the quiet one who wants to speak
I guess I'll lend myself an ear once again

Sit and wonder if you’ll ever be actual competition for those in the pictures that are flaunted around the internet as the girl next door, but is actually just the neighborhood *****. Look in the mirror, all you see is hatred for the very thing you are supposed to claim as your own, but when others compliment you, you do not condone their pity for the frumpy girl who is just trying to get by on her looks that aren’t even a level 5. You are perfect the way you are  they say as they critique your very existence. Comparing you to the 9’s and 10’s that pass by and wishing they could interchange pieces of you, that you were once fond of, with pieces of them that are as foreign to you as the name brands that make this society tick like the clocks on the wall only driven by the thought of one day reaching perfection.They don’t understand that you yearn for these things, but achieving it is impossible because money doesn't grow on trees and people are the hardest to please. Bold face lies are told when it is said that our flaws are our biggest asset. Tell that to everyone who has pointed them out thousands of times acting as if it is their new found discovery. Acting like you don’t have to figure out how to deal with not being “normal” from the moment you wake up up until you close your sulking eyes. An endless cycle of this matches your endless hope that one day it will all vanish and leave you at peace with the body you were given without say. So, prepare your laugh and make it real because you’re strong remember? Words don’t hurt right? Just pretend not to feel, it’s easy. It’s no big deal.