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.