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.