Deep dark fears come true

So afraid but so happy.

I don't think I've ever driven so fast in my life. 

You asked me how I beat you, and I tell you I have no idea, but I know it's because I was driving a hundred miles an hour to see you. 

You were right there, in my arms, and I was happier than a puppy whose owner was gone to the grocery store for an hour. But it felt like you were a mile away, and maybe it's just me, overthinking things as always, but I hope when the ball drops that you'll be my first kiss of the new year, but I have to prepare myself for a mental holocaust when you don't even reply tonight. 

Thinking out loud (onto a blank page)

I've been thinking a lot lately, and about the friendship we have; this beautiful, nocturnal friendship. And how I wish this nocturne could be transposed. Maybe just give me a sign, a sign that this repeating measure can end and the first verse can begin. 

I've been thinking of fear. And how I know your head is full of it. I just want you to make the right decision, and I want you to want me, even though it may sound selfish; but I need to do something for me. 

I've been thinking that I hope you feel the same way. And I've been thinking that I really wonder what you've written, but I promised I wouldn't look. So I'll keep my eyes shut. 

It's a beautiful kind of pain

You've got them on your mind. It doesn't matter who they are, they're on your mind, and you don't know if it's good that they are. In my case, I hope it is, because I'm happy, and I'm always afraid that I can't be for too long. 

I'm afraid to paint because what if one of my colors bleeds into a darker one? I'm afraid that my blood will turn the yellow to orange, and then there won't be any medium to slow me down when I know I should. 

I know I'm happy right where I stand, on the edge of this cliff, holding your hand as tightly as a zipper, just praying that when I fall, you fall with me, so that the splash of hitting the water will hurt less than it would without someone to split the pain. Because the pain I feel that you feel, too, is a beautiful kinda pain. The kinda pain that makes you wanna climb to the top and Jump off together again, and this time maybe kiss on the way down. And if eventually, we die from hitting the water in the wrong way, at least I died happy, and that's all I want. 

For You

We break ourselves down In more than one way. 

I usually find myself bored, and unhappy with my life after two weeks of happiness. 

But for you, it's different. 

For you, I'd crack my door and fall out onto the road because you were alone on the sidelines. I look at your eyes and see something I haven't ever seen in someone, and I can't quite put my finger on it. 

I find myself falling more and more every time I'm with you. 

I find myself thinking of you on a more than regular basis. 

I find my heart pumping life faster than it has for how long it's been beating in sync with yours. 

I hear my voice actually coming from my throat for you, when it never did for her. 

For you, I would write a song with three chords, because my mind is too full of thoughts of you to come up with more. 

For you, I would stop talking to Tammy number two. Which is a big deal. 

For you, I would smile even when it was hard to. 

For you, I would fall from an airplane with no parachute just to have an excuse to jump with you. 

For you, I would spend my sleeping hours with you, because my waking hours aren't enough time to be with you. 

For you, I'd think about taking apart my wall. 

But I wouldn't do it, because I'm afraid. 

Sleep Apnea

maybe if the sun never went down, we would never have to sleep. And when I never have to sleep, I won't stop breathing. 

Angels

I feel like I can fly this time. Like if I were to jump, that I'd be able to overcome my fear of heights for you. 

I feel like if I were to close my eyes, I would know where I was, because I was with you. 

I feel like my psychological light has been turned back to the on position with you.

I feel like I could perform open heart surgery on myself when I'm with you. 

I feel like If I were to reach out into space and grab a star, it would grab me back, and tell me that I'm alright with you. 

I feel like if I were to watch the moon shoot across the sky with you, the fact that the sun is following closely behind wouldn't even matter. 

I feel like I can look at your eyes without even wanting to look back with you. 

My heart is beating in a different way, a way that seems to be more regular than it ever was. A beat with a steady tempo, and a sense of direction and rhythm. 

I feel like my mind and my heart are finally holding hands with you. 

I feel like I have hope again. 

Change me.

What is wrong with me? Why is this war being waged inside my head, covering the sands of the deserts in my mind with the blood of expired feelings and dried up hopes for the future? 

When will this war be done? Because I have been waving my white flag for years now, and the enemy inside is not taking prisoners. 

I always think I find someone new, and my overthinking mind just examines it from every angle until it's no longer of importance to me. 

I want to find the end of this hallway, and open the doors to a new life, and a new me, one that isn't constantly changing, constantly switching, emotionally draining, and is a roller-coaster designed for someone with less experience with something so crazy. I'm not sure if I could be a good person without the help of a sudden change of heart. 

I'm not going to be able to do what I want to. I'm not going to be able to be in love. 

Thin air is harder to breathe

Climbing to the top of a mountain is worth nothing if the air is too thin for you to even fill your lungs with the crisp fall air. When you climb a mountain and rappel it too fast to even take in the view, what's the point of climbing? 

When you drive to the canyon to look at the trees, why do you look at a trail of dirt on your way up? 

What would happen if we took the time to scream our lungs off the edge of the mountain as we fling our hearts down the rocky hill we scaled to the top, with our hands numb and skin cold? 

What would happen if I fell? 

What would happen if we fell? 

I'm broken, and I have no idea how to fix it.

The spaces between my fingers

Are full of my hair as I try desperately not to rip it out. The seal between my lips is like a barrier of glass, keeping the tiger from eating the child. The thoughts behind my skull are dying to slip out through the cracks and run through my mouth. I'm broken. And I never came with a manual. None of us did. 

A Car, A Torch, A Death

The air begins to feel a little thin

As I start the car and then I begin

To add the miles piled up behind me

I barely feel a smile deep inside me

And I begin to envy the headlights driving south

I want to crack the door so I can just fall out

But then I remember when you packed my car

You reached in the back and buckled up your heart

For me to drive away with

I began to understand

Why God died

...

I feel unsafe with the door open, and the covers off my cold skin, not afraid of the ghosts getting in, but of letting my ghosts out. I hold my door closed as tight as your hand, because I don't know which would be more dangerous to let go of. 

I feel unsafe when my stereo is off, I feel like my mind will crack, and when something hollow cracks, it caves in, and I don't want my mind to cave in more than my heart. Turn on the stereo, and play something complex enough to mask the thoughts. 

 I beg every night to just fall asleep before the music stops, because though I can dream up a world where it's fall 24/7, I can't flip the record while I'm asleep. So I shut my eyes and wait for the static to stop the traffic, and even though I think speaking less will make me happy, it only keeps More of my thoughs trapped inside, oh why, God why can't I find some peace of mind, somewhere where I can bury my bones? 

Please excuse the tonality of this arrangement of text.

I want to get something off my aching chest, and it's something I can't seem to word correctly in a text. 

But i wanted you to know how I feel when I'm told to worry, and that you wouldn't mind. 

That when I worry, you don't care, because you think it would be foolish. Or stupid. 

Please excuse the rudeness: but I'll tell you what's stupid. 

Pouring your heart out to someone

Blowing your brains in their lap

Dying in their arms 

Doing anything for them 

To show them how much you adore them. 

Only to have them turn around and (for lack of poetic phrasing) cheat.

Every time. 

That's stupid. 

Just saying.  

And then there are some

There are some things that some people say

And the way they act around certain people 

They make you feel a certain way.

Think certain things.

Think certain things that you aren't really certain about.

They make you think that you're supposed to be left to carefully pick the petals off of dead roses, grasping the stem though it may have thorns. 

We get addicted to a certain kind of sadness. 

It takes us by the wrist, digging its filthy nails into your sensitive skin.

It really gets to you 

And makes you feel dead inside 

And we wonder 

Why 

Why do some people love to see the pain of someone they once loved? 

Part two. Unpublished story.

A broken picture frame, 

with the image still intact

A picture worth a thousand words

Yet worth nothing 

all at once

He feels so alone, yet in a world full of life. 

He screams to be heard by none but himself

 

(1) Saved Draft

A letter never sent.

More likely, a letter never written. 

A song never sung though the vocal cords are worn out like an old pair of sneakers. 

A typewriter with a jam that can't be fixed, because it doesn't know what to say. 

A truth so sad that nobody could tell it. 

Nobody could tell it except him. 

Diamonds n' such.

As a human, I love gems. 

I love money. 

I love diamonds. 

I love emeralds. 

I love sapphires. 

I love rubies. 

But there's something about rubie's that will always be my favorite. 

I don't know if it's the color.. But that's something I definitely love. 

It could be the way it's always here for me. Because I'll always love rubies, and rubies will always love me.

I wish I still had a ruby. I wish I didn't sell mine. 

This post is titled time. Again.

Time and I have a love/hate relationship. 

I have so much of it.. But it seems like I have none. 

It goes by so fast. Yet it inches by like a caterpillar on a changing leaf. 

I always want it to be tomorrow. But I keep telling myself "I will, in time."

I want to be in control of time. To be able to bend it any way I want. To skip the days and live out my nights like I'm always in a dream.

I want to be able to jump right over the hours of my work, and stretch out the last 6 like the hugs I give when she's good to me.

I want more time to explore the world barefoot. But I want more time to spend indoors on the floor with my music. 

I want to become the best guitar player in the whole wide world. But I don't have the time to practice for it. 

Sometimes, time just makes me want to out a bullet through my skull. But other times, time makes me want to run as fast as A bullet. 

Sometimes, time is my best friend who I play Legos with. 

Sometimes, time is the friend who didn't want to play Legos, and wanted to build a future instead of a fortress. 

Right now, time and I are not on the best of terms. Right now it wants to build a future, and put a bullet in my skull. 

Right now, I want to take time right by the hands, and twist them counter-clockwise until they break on the 7:30. 

Time never waits. But that's okay because I don't wait for time. 

All of our lives are just one drop in the ocean. 

If the moon can turn the tides, it can take the tears and pull them from our eyes, and make them into monsoons. 

Time never waits. 

Reasons I'm Afraid to Fall In Love.

My brain works like.... like a huge company. Like Apple.

I get real sick of things real fast.

I've always got to be changing.

rearranging.

Adapting.

And because of this, I can't keep a wallpaper on my phone for more than about a week. I absolutely HATE that wallpaper and i need a new one now, before i throw my phone against the wall.

I have had my guitar for maybe a year. and it's never looked uglier. I need a new one.

I can't sign up for a two year contract! i can't handle having the same phone for two years!!

And this.

Is why I'm afraid

To fall in Love.







LOVE is not for the faint of heart.
Love is not for the people who can't even go a day without thinking of the past.
Love is for the people who can hold on for more than a few months.
For the people who have a good grip on a stable mentality.

Love is something that i don't understand. And i really wish i did. Because i think i am in love, but how can i be sure?

Love is for the painters who paint new paintings from a blank slate every time.

They never recreate a painting of the same girl jumping in a puddle.

They never paint their own photographs of the mountains.

Love is a sacrifice.

I AM the faint of heart. And THAT is why i'm afraid to fall in love.

The comet

You

Take me, too. 

Staring up at the possesser. 

Watch the ashes of our memories fall gracefully to the ground, 

It was the rain that put me to sleep. 

Three. Or one.

I can stare out my window at the glory of nature, but I can't smell the fresh air from the inside. 

We have three more days, two of which we won't see each other, and tomorrow's taken up by a wedding. 

I have a bad feeling.

My gut tells me things. 

It mostly just tells me when I'm full and when I'm hungry. 

Either that or when I'm depressed. My gut has a way of telling me that something is off. 

It has a way of telling me that I screwed up. Or that I'm about to. And it's telling me that right now, as those numbers fly through my head. 

The stars are telling me that miscommunications are abundant this month. 

This much is evident. 

In fact it seems like there have been miscommunications over the past 456 days, 25 hours, 55 minutes and 35 seconds, if I recall correctly. 

Which I probably don't because I don't remember anything. 

I don't even remember to buy Flowers. 

I don't even remember to play dead. 

Or to play happy. 

But I'm getting better at that last one. 

My gut is telling me that the sweat on my palms is the tears of my hands, sobbing because they're so nervous to simply smile and wave. Grit my teeth and try not to wince. 

My gut is having a conversation with my voice box, telling it not to say anything to the eardrums that belong to the innocent man's body. 

But my gut sometimes has multiple personality disorder. 

It's also telling my voice box to yell. To scream. Telling my fists to clench up and fling itself in the direction of the throat that belongs to the not so innocent woman. 

It's telling my eyes to stop crying, because it was only 5 months. 

5 months isn't really that long. 

But in two hours, the wall I built for the other four 180 days, 23 hours, eighteen minutes, and approximately God knows how many seconds, because it was all a blur. And I don't know if that's because of my wet eyes, or the billions of thoughts running past the open shutters of my brain, it all just looked like a colorless blob, 

In two hours, that wall was torn down. Because my gut told my brain to relieve the guards of duty, because this one is special. 

Because this one makes you happy. 

And my gut was wrong. 

My gut isn't usually wrong, but when it is, it leaves my brain to do the thinking, and my brain overdoes his job. 

My brain likes to tell me that my lips are free to move, and my tongue to contort those words it's been dying to say. 

I wish my brain weren't so damn smart. 

I wish my gut would get it together again, and tell my brain to tell me what it's feeling this time. 

Because I don't want to relieve the guards of duty again, and have my gut be wrong. 

So gut, do me a favor. Speak to me. 

And not the kind of speaking you do when I'm hungry. 

The kind of speaking when you know there's something good lying ahead. Because I need it. We all need it. 

If you were dead or still alive, I don't care.

To be honest, I'm a liar. Just like you. 

You lied and you lied and you lied,

So I have no problem lying to you right now when I say that my feelings are different now. 

To be honest, I hope your mind tortures you, and that your nightmares are just as bad as mine. Because clearly this whole "pretend she's dead" thing isn't working out, because you keep popping up everywhere I look. 

My mind can't find a tight enough crawl space to where your black nightmarish goodnights can't seep into my skull.

To be honest I hope you burn in hell for talking to me tonight, and if you don't, I hope your heart does, because I don't care what you say, 

We will never be "friends," because the though if it makes me want to spit. 

We will never "mend" things because you're to ignorant to even think about someone other than yourself. 

And by "It's alright I'll survive."

I hope you mean that you want to die. That your ribcage can't bear the pressure of your sickened stomach, and that it's about to burst with the loudest "I'm sorries" and flow with the bluest of tears. 

I hope that by "goodnight" you mean that you might just regret what you did, and that the words of someone you don't even know pried your eyelids open to the bright world outside your thick and small skull. 

I hope my "who's this" even sparked the smallest of flames in your selfish little brain. 

And I hope you change. By God I hope you change. 

Gone

It's a long drive home, and it's even longer without you in the passenger seat. 

I just wish I could take it all back. That when we greeted time, and shook his hand, that we could turn it back just five seconds. 

We could have ruled the world by now, you and I. We could have built our house of paiper mâché, and used the paper with our story written down on it. 

We could have gotten that raven to sing together, to sing a song that only lovers can sing along to, a song that we all name our own. 

Out of these broken bones, and broken heart, I don't know who needs the wheelchair more. I don't even know what happened when the rubber hit the rocks. There was

 

so.

Much.

Fire.  

The fire coming from in front of my eyes was no match for the fire burning inside my chest as I watched your last breath leave you almost like a ghost. 

A river of salt poured from what you told me was your favorite part of me. 

And it seemed that my favorite part of you was gone. 

Time. And I'm choking up a bit.

Intro: tonight was a night I will hold dear to my heart, for it was a time when we could reminisce in the past. Also while reading this, maybe listen to "married life" from the movie "up."

Take me back. Take me back to last summer. Where in the words of ash, it was EPIC. 

For I miss it. No, I don't miss her, I miss the times. 

I miss not having a single thing to worry about. 

Then, we had nothing to fear, and every reason to smile. 

Now, we have time to fear, and less time to smile. 

Then, we spent nights up until 2, and spent the majority of our time in Mel's basement.

Now, we all work at 8, and we have an hour to sit and wish we had longer. 

Then, we had just graduated high school. We had our whole lives to do everything in the world. 

Now, we have less than a month, and we won't see each other for years.

Now, we're all slowly dwindling away, and we can't seem to make this one as good as last year. 

Oh how I'm going to miss Mel's laugh like the littlest elf. 

How I'm going to miss chance and Ashley being the couple we all knew would get married. 

How I'm going to miss never having to worry about being a wheel. 

...Except smeeg of course. 

Now, we've all moved away, and we all want to get married or leave on missions, and I just want to go to lagoon for our senior sluff day. I just want to fall asleep watching iron man 3 again. 

I just want to go boating on Utah lake one more time. 

I want to work with the good crew again. 

I want to not have to mend my heart-strings back together every time they fall apart when I walk into work. 

How I'm going to miss the busy-as-hell Friday nights with the fun-as-hell crew to push us through it. 

How im going to miss senior prom, and that trip to the aquarium. 

That senior dinner dance photo booth, where we all just went crazy. 

How I'll miss Carlos and Mel being so perfect. 

How I'll miss having friends. (Besides you, madi. I love you. 😊)

How I'll miss smeeg picking a wedgie in my basement, and everyone laughing hysterically. You will die with that written on your gravestone, sage. 

How I'll miss everyone complaining about my freezing pool, and sitting in front of the campfire. 

How I'll miss that camping trip. 

How I've missed that feeling of carelessness. 

How I've missed that feeling of... Not having to worry. 

Not having to worry about...

What happens next?

Not having to worry about...

Why is this happening?

Not having to worry about...

Not getting my "someday."

How I'll miss my best friends in the whole world. The skies are already looking so much more grey than they did last year, and they don't look like they'll change after the 25th. 

We have 24 more. 

Let's make them worth our time. 

I couldn't think of a title because I'm too in love with you. And because titles are overrated. 

I would just like to conduct a quick thank you. 

Thank you for caring, and for not judging. 

For taking me as I am. 

For making me who I am. And for changing me for the better

And most important of all, thank you for healing the wound I once thought was impossible to heal. 

The little things give you away.

It's the small things that hurt.

The minuscule actions that make the biggest difference.

They all tell me that sticks and stones may break our bones, but names are the things that sting the most.

It's the names that break our fragile bones and cause our frail minds to collapse like a castle of cards.

They make us break down to our knees and shout to the big man in the sky.

And if the bruises on my knees are any sign of my wariness, then God have mercy on me.

And if the harshness of our voices are any sign of the mental abuse, then take us home.

And if me begging you to stop Isn't enough for you to get the hell out of my head when i sleep,


then i'd rather not sleep at all.

Outside the Wall

We all have our own wall, with our friends walking along outside in pairs. 

Some in bands, and some in couples. 

We all stand on the other side, so staggered. 

And we all try and find our own way inside each other's walls. 

But in the end, our walls are all our own, and how we choose to build them, is how we choose to keep them. 

Mother will she break my heart?

Mother do you think she's good enough. 

For me?

Mother do you think she's dangerous...

To me?

MOTHER WILL SHE TEAR YOUR LITTLE BOY APART

I love you.

The last time I uttered those words, I was two hours away, in the car with her, and we were both sobbing. At least I was, and I'm sure she would have if she had any emotion. And I never got a response. 

My heart has been in a pile on the basement floor next to the couch, and lucky for me, you like to keep trash, because you've kept my heart for this long. 

How you've managed to piece together my broken heart,

How you've managed to make my crumpled up paper perfect again,

How you've managed to find oxygen in my space,

How you've managed to fly without a plane,

How you've managed to make me happy again, I don't know. 

But last night when I glared into your eyes in the dark of the night, and told you I loved you,

I knew I meant it. 

And I knew you meant it, too. 

And someday, I hope someday will come. 

Someday, I'd like to lie next to you and not worry about a thing. 

Someday I'd like you to love me unconditionally. 

Someday, I'd like you to be my princess. Not your brothers. 

Someday, I'd like to be your repairman, and repair your door for you. 

Someday, I'd like to see. 

Someday, I'll still love you.  

i've been thinking about you a lot lately.

i've been thinking about you a lot lately.
law of attraction, i can make you happen.
our minds are an infinite space time continuum
every thought that we think, creates a new reality

but i still can't create one where we end up together.

Now why would a god of love only allow us 20% of our brain capacity? please forgive me for questioning my free will, but my abilities seem like a hindrance,

let me create my perfect world.

Please forgive my aching desire, this tinder in my brain like a dying fire.

please forgive this awful question, but please, let me use my other 80%.

with my other eighty percent, I could make myself happy again.

with my 80, I could fly a starship 'cross the universe divide.

with my 80 i could maybe understand the thoughts that run through your beautiful mind.

with my 80, i could make this world a better place.

a place where we don't have to worry about what other people think, and we can do what we like without consequence. without questioning why.

with that 80 percent, maybe i could find the courage to tell you I love you.

with that 80 percent maybe i would have the courage to read the line i just erased.

maybe i could find a way to tell my family that i have no desire to go on a mission.

maybe i'd even find a desire to go.

with that extra 80 percent, maybe I could remember what the hell happened to me when i was a child.

Home

I'm so close to home

I can almost feel your warmth 

So close yet so far. 

Zip tied to the bed, chain-mailed to the floor

Lies. Falsifications. Bullsh*t. 

I never knew someone with such a manipulating smile could commit such an artistic crime. 

I thought the promise of eternity was enough to change a heart of ice, but not a single emotion slipped through the cracks on your porcelain skin. And here we go again.

Here you go again, starting another life of lies. Starting another pile of half-truths, and meaningless sex, all to pay for your damn schooling. 

And I know how much you hated it, but all in all, you're just another brick in my wall. 

All in all, I'm another brick in your wall. 

All in all, we're all bricks in the wall. 

Finally

I've gone to sleep happy for the first time in a year. Thanks. I can't wait for our hike. 

Lazy

My friends need to post more 👌

You are my sunshine

My only sunshine

You make me happy

No matter what the color of the sky. 

You'll never know dear, how much I love you

Please don't take my sunshine away. 

Please God. Let me keep this sunshine in my life. I can't take many more rainy days. Because I didn't save my wishes for rainy days. 

Eleven Eleven

Make a wish. 

The Wall

That movie still makes me depressed as hell every time I watch it. 

The happiest days of our lives.

I want to be a kid again. 

I want to be able to create an entire movie with just the things in my bedroom, and two action figures. 

I want to be able to use my bed as the edge of a never ending pit of doom, rather than the only place I can feel somewhat safe from my misery. 

I want to have to worry about my best friend not being able to play today, instead of worrying about my best friend killing themself. 

I want to go down the slide and use it as the safe zone in freeze tag, instead of using my head as a safe zone from the war inside my chest.

I want to pull the trigger of a pellet gun, rather than resist pulling the trigger on the real one. 

I want to worry about what shirt I'll wear to school instead of what mask I'll wear to hang out in the basement of my friends' house. 

I want to be creative again. I want to write novels, not suicide letters. 

I want to smile at cute girls, not my ex girlfriend. 

But I have to. Or I'll seem weak. 

I want to draw on lined paper again, not the inside of my arm. 

I want to like pizza again. 

I want to stop worrying about getting that pretty girl to like me. 

I don't want to be the only sad one out of all my happy friends in their relationships. 

I don't want to be a seventh wheel anymore. 

I want someone to watch the movie with. 

I want to watch toy story in my basement again. 

And not watch the insides of my eyelids as I make decisions I'll regret in my basement. 

I want to worry about what game I'll play at recess, rather than the game I'm playing with this beautiful woman. 

I want to worry about what I'm having for lunch, instead of whether or not I'm getting into heaven. 

I want this feeling in my stomach to be from eating too much junk food instead of loneliness punching me right in the gut. 

I want to love someone who will love me. Is that so hard to ask for? Someone who cares? 

Some day

Some day, that little eight year old girl you pushed up the stairs to her room will not wake up. And you'll wonder why. 

Simply complicated

And unmistakably beautiful. If only my poetry could save me this time. 

I like you a lot. And I'm having a hard time not kissing you over the phone or something stupid, cause I haven't even seen you in person in about a week. 

You Are Not Alone.

Oh.. It's you...

Parties are fun, until your heart drops into your stomach. Until the one human you can't be around stares you in the eye and tears apart the very fabric of your being, making you feel worthless once again. 

No one likes different. No one likes different a lot.

I'm here and I'm with all my friends

But their backs are turned to me. 

So I dance away the pain of being the odd number. 

Wishing I was just looking at your eyes. 

Wishing i was no one. 

Miracles.

It'll take a miracle to get through this barrier I face. This wall that has become between you and I. I can see you standing on the other side, and I wonder if you even see me over here. 

I wish I knew what my brain was telling me. I wish I was as happy as all of you. 

You are a puzzle I would love to solve.

An enigma I would love to understand.  

What's wrong?

Let me save you some time and suggest that you ask me what's right. 

How can you save someone else, if you can't even save yourself? 

This has no title

I lay my head down every night into a puddle of lavender. It helps me stay unconscious through all the nightmares of you. 

ADD.

Some dreams do come true. Unfortunately, so do nightmares. 

I had a nightmare that I saw nothing but skin as I tried to look into your eyes that were no longer there. 

I was terrified that you no longer wanted to speak with me. 

That nightmare came true. 

I had a nightmare that you never answered your phone when I called. 

That nightmare came true. 

I had a nightmare that- I can't remember where I was going with that. How can I get diagnosed with ADD? 

Because for as long as I can remember, which is about a year, 

The filing cabinet where I store my attention span has been replaced by a nightstand with one drawer, and a lamp that doesn't work sitting upon it.

I lost you because my attention span lasts as long as a life does from the second the trigger is pulled. 

I lost you because every time you would tell me a story, I would lose my train of thought, and it'd be long gone before I could jump back on. 

So all I can do is lie here with my ADD-infested skull on the tracks for the train of thought and wait for the next one. 

Until then, I find ways to beg for your attention, because what I told you was that 

It was fine. 

I am not sad. 

We try time and time again to get the attention of them, whether we cut our wrists, paint their Inbox the same color as our feelings, or act like a miserable sh*t. 

You tell them you are alright, and you just want them to be happy. 

But if their happiness means your suicidal thoughts, 

Is it worth it?  

Is the color of my eyes not the right color for you? 

Is the circumference of my arm not a large enough number for you? 

Is the gap between my teeth due to my negligence to wear my retainer the reason for your negligence to give a damn about me?  

Is the speed I reply to your texts too fast? Do I come off as desperate to you because I get so excited when I see your name appear on the screen of my phone?

Should I stop asking you to hang out, because it seems like you're running out of excuses to not hang out with me. 

Stop is red, but so is the blood, and THAT red WONT stop! 

Green are your eyes, but this light won't change from red to green, 

Because the red is too busy not stopping, and the green just won't look me in the eye,

And the yellow. 

The light will never turn from green to yellow, because yellow is the brightest and happiest color of them all. You can look at any painting, and you'll know instantly whether or not yellow is in it. You can always see the little yellow sun in the corner of each child's drawing, because their traffic light is still fully functional. 

They can still tell the difference between the red and the green, and they can still let their minds breathe. 

Oh, how I envy the children, and their abilities to love, just because they simply don't know. 

Because they can color a page, and not have to question why. 

They can tell someone they love them, and they won't question why. 

But They can watch their big brother take his life, and they will question:

Why. 

Why would big brother take his own life? He promised he would help me color the sun in the corner today. 

But the color of the sun is not red, and it is not white. 

It is yellow, and it means happiness. 

Big brother did not know the color yellow. 

Big brother only saw red. 

I could hand him a yellow crayon, and to him, it would read red. 

Stop. 

 Wake up. 

It was just a nightmare. All we can do it hope it stays that way. 

You were right.

When you told me that you just drop people. Cause that's what seems is going on here. You haven't talked to me since you got out of the hospital, and you just don't really seem to care. About me. 

Stargazer

I remember a few weeks before this fatal tragedy, when you told me we had to go stargazing this summer. 

My brain works like a machine, and I thought I was right brained when it turns out that I'm actually a f*cking left brained robot. I read your body language and payed no attention to the screams of help and begs for happiness and just a bit of attention behind those absolutely stunning green eyes. 

For years I saw nothing but a pretty face, and thought nothing more. 

But when you finally told me the truth about your eyes, I knew I was looking at the wrong painting the entire time you were describing it to me through the dimples on your cheeks. 

I tried my hardest to listen and comply, but that just isn't in my programming. 

Apparently there was a flaw. apparently I have a listening problem. 

Apparently my mind is too active to make room for love. 

Apparently it takes a suicide attempt and a loss of words due to your hospitalization, for lack of a poetic metaphor, for me to realize that you're the most important thing I've ever neglected. 

I've tried time and time again to silence the screams in my head, to dowse this emotional fire burning in my brain, to stop the inmates in my imagination from banging their damned cups on the sensitive jailbars of my cranium! 

But no matter what I do, the fire just won't go away, because a bullet is not a very good fire extinguisher. 

And tonight, as I sent you my message with no receiver, I explain how beautiful the sunset is, because with your eyes closed on a hospital bed, I'm almost sure that you can't see it. 

As I sat in my chair, watching the sun go down behind the mountains, painting the snow pink and the clouds a deep purple, I wait and pretend that you're under my arm instead of under the knife, and I watched the light fall, and gazed at the stars all alone, feeling the tendons in my chest snapping like boiled spaghetti that was stretched too far. 

And when I'm done, I stand inside my dark sleeping house, and stare out my window in hopes that you'll pull up to yours, and walk to your door. Alive and awake. 

But instead, I sit alone and continue to write shit poetry because I feel the need to express myself to people I only sort of like down in Provo.

And here comes life, to screw things up, just when I'm finally happy after what she did to me. It had to go and put you in the hospital. And I can't help but feel a small bit of guilt. 

Just let me have this one. alright, life? I could really use the happiness. 

Hit the floor

I haven't been so happy as I was on Friday. But I've never been so scared for anything the way I am. I'm so scared that I'm not good enough. Or that she isn't who I thought she was. 

I'm so happy I can look at her eyes and let them fish a smile right out of my heart 

But I'm so scared that she doesn't want what I do. 

I'm so happy that I get to look right outside and know she is right there. 

But I'm so scared that every word I say might mess this up. 

I'm so happy for any potential future I have with her. 

But I'm so scared of there not being one. 

I'm so happy I can get Tammy off my mind

But I'm so scared that I will get a new Tammy. 

I'm so happy that her mom loves me

But I'm so scared of her not loving me. 

I'm so happy I can put down that bottle 

But I'm so scared that i won't throw it away. 

I'm so happy I can trust her 

But I'm so scared that I can't. 

I'm so happy 

But I'm scared I'm not. 

Ishfwilf

Four years is what it took me. Four years until I was able to mister up that courage and kiss my next door neighbor. But I finally did it, and it was something I wish I had done earlier. Because it was so perfect. 

Number three tonight. Don't read this one.

I'm really sorry I have to write this. But it's my opinion, and God forbid if I express it on my own page. 

I really hate that it just slides by. That your best friend Alexandra caused my depression to return. That she's caused me to contemplate suicide every time I drive over 50 miles an hour. 

I don't like that nobody says a thing to her, and that you all put up with her shit the same for years. Because I, I am not alone. 

She is a liar, and she has not changed like you said. 

If she was honest, she wouldn't have taken the sacrament at Carlos' farewell. 

She wouldn't be getting married in the temple in 5 months. 

She would at least have the nerve to, for once, show her emotions. 

And I do not care for the life of me what you have to say to me for this post, all I know is that I am a miserable rot. A sack of meat that feels worthless and depressed every day because of your friend. 

And if I have to lose your friendship, then so be it. I won't be angry. You've been her friend for years now, and I have no room pushing her out. 

You all know, but you won't connect the dots. 

No. Just Forget about it.

It'd just be easier to change my name and my URL. So I don't have to worry about what you see. I just don't want you to question me. All I want is for you to love me. I just want to be happy again. I just want to be appreciated. I don't want to be second in line. And I want to be important. And not blown off. 

Mother

Mother do you think she's good enough?

Mother do you think she's dangerous?

Mother will she tear your little boy apart?

Hello, so glad to see you, my friend.

Maybe I can be happy again. Cause every time I catch myself thinking of your smile, I catch myself smiling. Every time I think about the good old days, the more I want more of them. 

Valentines day is just a holiday made up by card companies

I've never had a date on valentines day before.

Who?

I know we're such good friends. And you don't want to lose me to a relationship. 

But to me, it's worth the risk, and I'd give everything for you. 

I'd change my ways, and maybe I'd even be able to forget about old whatshername for true love's sake. 

Man. If only I knew who I was talking about. 

A painting you had to look at before it happened.

I will take this brush and paint this whole city with the regrets and good memories gone bad. 

I will take this brush and dip it in the red paint of the blood you made me shed. Paint it across my cold lips and draw my smile because you all want to see it. 

I soak it in the brown and golden paint I regret not using over the old used and cruel olive colored paint that made me sad, and paint this regret all over the seminary building. 

I take the brush and wet it with the color of my sorriness for all the times I betrayed my best friends for love. I paint the sunrise over the lake, because I believe that when every artist dies, God lets them paint the sky that night. 

I empty the tube of black paint onto the brush, one drop for each time I didn't go to therapy when I should have, and I paint the Empire State Building. 

I take my love for your eyes that I can't quite remember the color of, and paint over my lawn that same gorgeous color. 

I brush my lungs the color of ash, and paint each pill the color of my suicide  

I color the rain drop by drop, only to have it end up alone, confused, and falling endlessly. 

I paint the basement floor the color of sin and regret. 

I paint my bed sheets the color of the tears that have been shed there. 

I paint my heart with the color of sympathy given by my friends who think they know me. 

I paint my neck a frayed tan, like the rope tied around it, hanging from the sky I painted blue, 

Just so that something could end up well for once. 

I paint my eyes a fluorescent white, so that you don't see right thought them without hurting yourself. 

I color the ground the color of my dead skin, so I can blend in as I lay down with my could-have-beens and I granted wishes. 

And when I take a step back, I look to see that all of these confusing colors and patters are all just so close together and so mixed up, that they appear as an ugly brown to the naked eye. 

And that's when I realize that I fucked up. 

So close

I just need that small reach. That thirty seconds of extreme courage to get through to you. 

Suicidal Hate

We all have those thoughts. And they may just cross our minds for a second. 

But they do. And the fact that I'd even consider taking my life to stop this hate and depression is so sad. 

I'll travel to that track where you saw your first concert together, and pay a visit to bereta. 

Tell her I say hello. Kiss her lips and squeeze her tight right after saying my last goodbyes.

Because I can't even look at a ring without wanting to put a bullet through my skull. 

What a shame that I have to resort to this. What a shame that my depression has led me right to the ground when I was so high. 

I was so high up on my happiness, that I forgot what was below. What was behind that mask I could have sworn you took off. 

I was so high, and I fell so far. 

Just don't worry about me.  

Someone.

Some days we all think about what's important in life. 

And when it comes down to it, we all want the same thing. 

To make someone happy. Just by smiling at them, and knowing you belong to them. 

With nothing to worry about, and to trust each other to the fullest extent. What is give to love someone. 

To love someone who loves you back.

Who will treat you right, and accept you for your faults, for we have more than there are stars in the sky. 

Someone who you know will always be waiting for you. Who will always be thinking of you, whether they be at work, with friends, or dreaming in their bed. 

What I'd give to make it work just once. 

That's all we need is a good shot to make love last. 

That and someone who will keep their word. 

We all want someone who will listen to our tunes with us, and take interest in our passions.

Someone who will dance to our melody, and smile the whole way through. 

Someone who will laugh at our embarassing moments, and forget about it minutes later. 

Someone we can be comfortable waking up with bed head next to.

We all want a best friend. 

A best friend we can put a ring on and say "we did it."

I know you thought of someone. 

That entire thing. Every time I mentioned "someone." 

Who popped into your mind?

Who do you want to be that someone? 

Make it happen. 

You are worth it. 

And hopefully they are, too. 

Swimmin' in the ocean

As cheesy as it sounds, your eyes are blue like the ocean. And if they were an ocean, I'd swim through it for the rest of my life. 

Your skin is as white as the snow, and if it was, I'd make snow angels all day long. 

Your lips are as red as a rose that I wouldn't mind being pricked by. 

After all, a little bit of blood never hurt anybody, did it? 

Ask the scars on your arm. The ones plowed like a field. A field I would farm in all day long. 

And the breeze of your air as you breathe  down my neck, like a wind from the north. 

I'd stand in that wind wearing but a mere t shirt. 

And the feeling I get like a fire on the inside, a fire I would stand in, naked, left to burn all the skin off what's left of this rotting corpse; undisturbed. 

Your smile like a prison, one I would serve a million life sentences in

Just to kiss you any time I want. 

Maybe.

We are coming home tonight. 

You wanted me to look back and remember the good. 

But all I see is the good and it's doing me bad. 

I see the words written in crimson ink down the side of your arm that begged for help. 

I always wanted to be like you, so easily masked. 

I always wanted to hide my emotions, but I could never pull myself to do so. 

To hide my face from the only thing that could give me hope was suicide. 

God, the fact that the thought had even crossed my mind makes my heart sink lower than the boy in church caught playing with his Legos. 

Building a future for himself, to only have it smashed by the ones he loved. 

So maybe our misery is more long term than we thought. 

Maybe when we first fell off our bike, we picked up the helmet, but not our broken hearts. 

Maybe when we scraped our arm on the playground, we took our shirts off to observe the wound, but we forgot to put it back on, and we sit on the side, cold and alone as we bleed to death, watching everyone else play with each other and go about their happy lives. 

Maybe when we failed the test, and everyone else passed, we forgot to retake it, and thought of nothing but the failure. 

Maybe when she gave you that letter, you wrote back instead of burning it. 

Maybe when she cheated, you didn't forgive and that's where your faults are. 

The heartbreak we feel isn't max broman's fault. It isn't Lindsey who keeps you back. 

The therapist didn't make that choice for you. 

We are all the deciders of our own fate.

The past is the past. And all we can do is live with it.  

What have we done

These hands were made to create. And instead, we use them to destroy. 

We have the power to build the tallest buildings. 

We have the power to imagine the universe. 

We have the power to destroy a nation with the creating of an atomic bomb 

And we choose the latter. 

Astrology

It might be right about you. 

"Cancer, You have been suppressing a certain truth about yourself, Moonchild. Either you can't face that there is a certain something you want, or you are afraid to reveal to someone else that you want it. Most likely this has to do with your love life, or with the affluence of your lifestyle. Your reluctance to reveal this may be the result of your fear that it will never come to pass, or that you will perceived as more vulnerable than you want to be. But whether you reveal it or not, it is still true. Letting this feeling see the light of day could be wonderfully uplifting."

Dreams.

I remember. Up on my seat where I watched the fights of the belittled, I held your hand. Something I never told you as I described this dream. I held your hand and I told you I loved you. And i was allowed to call you "the prettiest cowgirl of them all" as we jumped off the highest tower into the piles of play ground below. I could take the woodchips out of your hair and kiss you with meaning like in 2012. What a memory. And what a future it'd be. 

I find it kinda funny, I find it kinda sad

I can't believe that even after you've caused me to contemplate "checking out," I still pray for your happiness. 

Sorry

Can I just say a big sorry to everyone right now? I'm such a disappointment to everyone I've ever known. 

At last

I rip out the cover page you wrote in, with the same knife I carved out my sorrows. It left a pile of shavings on my bedspread, and I'm left with but a flimsy cover for that beautiful Tuscan journal. But at least now I won't be as sad as I usually am when I open my journal. 

At last

I rip out the cover page you wrote in, with the same knife I carved out my sorrows. It left a pile of shavings on my bedspread, and I'm left with but a flimsy cover for that beautiful Tuscan journal. But at least now I won't be as sad as I usually am when I open my journal. 

She's a student.

Or rather a former tourist, judging by hazel's work. She was just a passerby, just another person walking by the house. 

But this house is so old. Why would anyone be walking by it? And why would they say anything about it?

I read their comment, and my mind was set ablaze with so many different wonders. 

Who is Hazel Grace?

How did she find my blog?

Why did she read it?

Why did she comment such a thing?

They most likely won't read this, cause they've kept walking down the road I assume, but if you do read this, hazel, I stalked your blog. 

And I'm so curious to know your identity. 

What a rush.

All I could see was a flash of your perfect blue eyes before I kissed those oh so familiar lips that brought me back up a notch from the pit I thought I was in. My insides were on fire like they were back in October. My heartbeat took off running at such a fast pace that I couldn't even keep up with it, and I ran out of breath. And I know you'll be watching for this post, and I hope you know that it was just what I needed to be happy. I just hope you don't regret it. 

Remember one of our first dates?

I just kinda realized that it was also our last. Bowling. And your blue plaid shirt with the black leggings. You knew those were my weakness but you still wore them the last time I was in Logan with you. How could you. 

What if I'm never happy again? When am I allowed to kill myself?

I think I could be diagnosed with depression. Because the mornings come too fast, and the night time comes too late. 

You took my heart and sewed it up and put it back in its place. 

But bane, by dear, you took it with you a hundred miles away and put it underneath the tire of your new Subaru. 

And I spend every day trying to cover up the cuts and holding back the tears I feel when someone even mentions your name. 

I try and tell myself I am happy with my selfish desires and hide behind my smile. 

But there's a gap between my teeth that my screams can escape through, and it's on this internet page. 

In that journal where you claimed I was the love of your life.

But the gap isn't big enough for you to hear the wind whistling through it unless you get close to my ribcage, where the ribs have been exposed. The wind sings its sad lullaby through my broken and hollow rib cage. 

And it hurts so much because all your best friends read this. 

And you can all see my pain physically and mentally

But all you can do is tell me to let my

Hopes down because I'll never get an apogy from you. 

And until then, I don't believe this man has changed you like they said.  

Tape can fix everything. Including my mouth.

I told you. And for whatever reason it hurts more than I expected. 

It hurts so bad that this breaking almost tickles. 

And it's a blind eye

That you see with, one that I'm dying to love you from behind the text bubbles that tell you you're gorgeous and that I miss you. 

It always happens like this. I love you when you don't love me. 

I'll smile when I'm happy. 

Goodnight

I know you aren't looking for me right now 

And I'm not necessarily looking for you. 

But I see you, and I want you for my own again. 

We must look towards...

The FUTURE!! 

Cause hopefully I have another future with you. Your smile brighter than my grammar usage. 

Your eyes the size of the moon, color of the sky, beckoning me to come back home again into your arms. 

Wishful thinking I guess.

My brother just ripped ass in his sleep

0:30

Stop 

Piano 

I wanna go home

Vera

Hopeless romantic

It's a real shame I have to be the way I am.

there's one person who still reads this, when they should have no reason to.  

There's one person who's always been here for me 

And one perso who will always care. 

One person who really understands my feelings and won't criticize me for them. 

Because their brain is just as upside down as mine is. 

Because their arms are just as cross-hatched as mine are. 

Because their stomach has been flipped inside out just like mine is. 

Because they're someone who will hold my hand through this hard time and squeeze it as they say 

"We'll make it out." 

And it's a pain in the ass that I have to have feelings for multiple people. Especially this one. 

Because feeling my hand through your hair, or looking at those emerald blue eyes is like being back with an old friend. 

A friend you had to lose because you took what you could get. And what you got was 5 months of happiness and sheer joy followed by five months of physical tiredness from depression, nagging on by friends saying "get over her already." 

I just hope I can stop breaking people and pulling them under with me. 

The bereta

I hang my head in shame as I hand you my last card. And now you've taken the cards of so many, and left nothing for the rest of us. 

The same way we feel inside.