stretch out my arms
look back at my life:
mistake "I'm sorry"
scared "I don't love you"
death "yes please"
life "**** me now"

it's just a
phase. phase. phase. phase.

always:     the same.
                  changing.
a                   mess.

best friends become enemies when they know too much about you.

you're making me crazy without doing anything.
I wish you weren't. I wish we learnt
                                                         "how to learn?"
how to love how to breathe how to think
"it doesn't matter it doesn't matter it doesn't matter"

it should come naturally.
                                        it does come naturally.
stopthinkingyou'renotthinkingnowI'mthinking
but it's all about you. it's not about you.

forget the past like you'd commit suicide
                                                         ­       like you really meant it.
forgive the past like you'd be here tomorrow
                                                        ­        like you really meant it.
my face in front of your face
screaming everything I want to scream
without saying a thing.
my face looking forward
my voice shaking toward
                                           you.
I'mnotokayI'mnotokayI'mnotokay
"I forgive you" I'mnotokay
slam my head into the wall
"I forgive you" I'm not okay
rip my hair out
"I forgive you!" I'm not okay
                "you need therapy" I'm not okay
"you're not okay"

the room got heavy when I told you exactly how I felt about you.
I'm so glad I was alone. I'm so glad I'm alone.
"I feel so lonely"
                           "I can't take this"
the next morning: "[things you said that I won't repeat]"
"Are we friends?" TRUTH: ATTACKATTACKATTACKATTACK.

attack me again: it's my fault because I asked for it.
                           I still do.
too much fun. toomuchfun. STOP.
I'm bored.

boredom. consumption of boredom. consumption.

I feel you like
                        slamming
                                doors.
I see you in
                    the same
                                shifting focus as
when I take off my glasses
                  too quick.
I hold you like I make
fifty                               dollars
                  a week.
                                                          "I miss you"
I scream into my pillow.
                                            "I miss you too" you whisper back
        in prayers
in dreams
                   in your arms wrapped around me
as I cry into your neck.

I want you here: you
                            tell me: I'm beautiful.
these slow steps that I'm taking (toward you)
(away from you) I'm learning your name
easier than cleaning a fish bowl
harder than saying it out loud
easier than writing it down
harder than taking birth control
or wanting to,
because I'm not interested in ***
at this age:
in this age I'm younger than those actions
older than those thoughts,
lost in a limbo, found swinging from a bar,
skipping down a street, turning down what I can't see
"no thank you"

I can hear you.
                              "I'm listening"
     I can't hear you.
"you're screaming"

your face,
                 in the mirror: "you're beautiful"
your face,
                    in the street: "I'm disgusting"

sincerely,
                because I know you're quiet when you're unhappy
because you're trying to tie knots with broken fingers
          because your eyes reflect blue in the shadows of your smile
because you're more than any fabric, soaked in any chemical thought
                                                                                                                    (or feeling)
because the islands of you create an escape better than the moon.

Sincerely, because you're you.

I'm writing right now.
I'm writing to write, now.
I'm writing to write for me now.

No one reads here,
without wanting something,
(besides what we give them)
in return.

And no one else reads what is here.

So, instead of not writing now,
Or writing in hopes of enlightening others,
I will be honest.
I will write for myself.

And I will read it, too.

Your hair was longer.
That's the one thing about you that is sticking in my mind.
That, and the fact that I've seen those jeans a million times.
But I still can't breathe when I think about it.

I dropped my eyes so quickly I went blind for a moment.
No words were said between us, the talking from the others filled the room far better.
I couldn't even look at you past the initial one when you waltzed right into my profusely damaged psyche.
Your voice in my ears was an angry grater to my nerves.
Your reaction to me there mirrored mine:
Nonchalant indifference.
We no longer exist to each other.

I finally got what I've wanted for seven months.
I finally know you still exist, that you're still alive.
I have some solace in that, but mostly just stunned disbelief.
I was in the Twilight zone, my life for the past seven months flashing before my eyes and going right down the drain.
The effect you had on me was a **** poor excuse for the one you used to have on me.
But my heart still ricocheted against my core and my torso was enveloped in horrendously painful flames.

I couldn't utter a single word to you, my thoughts ping-ponging around my head.
Or maybe the reason is because I have nothing left to say to you.
My words have dried up just like your affection long ago.
I have no words for you.
No words would justify your actions, nor mine.
No words would even come close to actually portraying what I've felt because of you.
The pain, the guilt, the betrayal, the pure, agonizing rage, the exhaustion, the inability to eat.
Truth be told, I'd rather experience all that than bow down at your feet anyway.