Flashback
Walking from the parking lot at my high school with my best friend
I see you ahead, with you red backpack, and jeans, and adidas sneakers
And my heart freezes when I see her.
She got out of the car with you.
You guys rode to school together.
How romantic.

You were mine, not even two weeks ago. You were my baby, and now you're gone. How could this have happened. What have we done.

Pain.
Blinding numbness.

I miss you.

I wonder what it would be like to fall asleep in his arms. Would we face each other and look into each others eyes? Or would I back my body into his arms?

I never really loved my ex. But I loved him. I loved him with all my heart. He made me so happy.
So I wonder what it would be like to have slow, passionate sex with him, and then fall asleep in his arms, with his breath against my neck, and him holding me and keeping me safe from the nightmares. I wonder if he'd hold my hand and stroke my arms and my hair, and kiss the back of my head.

What I had with him was so special because it was innocent. Things went very slow, the emotions and feelings building.

Do I tell him how I feel?

No. No. I will contain myself. I will see him in person and I will hug him and look in his eyes and tell him that I'm still in love with him.

Take this slowly. Don't rush into it. Rushing always leads to craziness and irrationalism.

I can hear the wedding bells now. I can see the proposals, feel the tears streaming down my face as I hand my heart over to you. Yes, I will spend the rest of my life with you. Yes, I will love you and protect you for as long as I live, and even after that, I will always be with you.


But do I really love you? Or am I just lonely?

Have we really grown up? Are we really handling this like adults? Or are we still young and naïve? Am I blowing this completely out of proportion?

Are these feelings real? Or are they just wishful thinking? Maybe I just don't want to be alone. Maybe I'm forcing this idea into my reality, and it's not going to actually work.


Or maybe we were meant for each other. When the "relationship" falls away, we are best friends. We talk almost every day. And the reason we broke up is because I moved away, and you couldn't stand that pain. But now I'm coming home.

I miss you, and you miss me.

So what does this all mean?

Are you my soulmate? Are you my happily ever after?

Our children would be gorgeous. I don't think I would ever fall out of love with you, because you are my best friend. I want to grow old with you. I want to have children. I want you to be the daddy, I want you to hold our first child and smile so brightly I think your face might break. We can buy a huge house and have a dog and cats if you want. We can have children, so many children. And when they grow up and move out, and it's just you and me, we will watch the sunset on our front porch and drink iced tea and love each other. You will be the funniest old man. When we have grandchildren, you will be that hilarious grandpa. I think you will always be handsome, no matter how old. You will age gracefully. The kids will always want to be at our home. And I'll be the sweet old grandma who cooks and spoils her grandchildren.

We complete each other. We are exact opposites, yet we think the same. You bring out the best in me. You make me laugh, and you make me smile. You know my secrets, and I know yours. We can openly talk about anything.

We could be married. I could take your last name. I could have your ring on my finger.


Maybe if you feel the same way, we'll try it. Move in together. Get some cheap apartment. Test it out for a while. Maybe.

Maybe.

I’m afraid of being alone in my own head, so I will accept you into my life and manipulate you into someone that I can love. I will mold myself into your perfect somebody, and you will give everything you have for me. I will feel wanted and needed, like a precious prize. I will trap you. I will hug you a little too closely, kiss you a little too deeply. You’ll fall head over heels in love with me and I will be able to walk away with no more than a few fake tears.

whats the point of me even being here.

my own dad, who hurt me repeatedly, won's fly me home for thanksgiving. so im stuck in this dorm alone. everyone else has gone home. i feel utterly unloved and unwanted. im in love with my best friend and he loves some other girl whos hundreds of miles away. im just never enough. not worth the plane ticket. not worth the love. just completely not worth it. its days like this that i wish i did not eve nhave to try anymore. ive just wanted to cry this whole week and i finally broke. why. now im just sitting here watching myself bleed.

I know you want a relationship. And trust me, I do to. But you don’t know what it’s like. You haven’t experienced crazy in your head. Crazy hasn’t settled down and made a life for itself in your soul, in the core of your being. I’m sorry that I had to be the one you chose.

I need crazy. I need someone who gets it. I need someone who scares me just as much as I scare them. I need it. I crave it.

I need to cut. I need to hurt. I need to bleed. “The dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had.” Because pain is so addicting, and I NEED it. I feed off of it. Whether I cause it or not.

I understand now that we are friends because we have the same pain and we get it. Unfortunately, I lost my 

I keep like crying because that song, and I get it, and you love her so much and you're so so so lucky she loves you back 

Because I am broken because of him. Because I had him and then I lost him. And I'm trying so hard to move on. But he is my soulmate. I guess soul mates don't always end up together. He touched me and moved me and changed me and then he was gone 

I dream of him every night and when i wake up, I just want to die because it's not real anymore 

I wish you every happiness. I wish I could be enough for you, but it's obvious that I never will be what you need. So instead I can only hope and pray that she will take care of you and love you more than I do. 

That's why you have to keep looking. Look for this. Right now, he's not attainable. Neither of them. But you know how it feels. You know when it's okay, you know when it's right.

You hooked up with him on the first day, and look, you're okay.

Maybe give him more of a chance. Get to know him better. Maybe you'll feel it. Stop being so scared. Just live. Just feel. Don't be afraid to feel. You have a safety net and a system. Just relax.

My dad would have been an amazing father if he didn't make those awful decisions

I loved him.

I think my biggest fear is that I will never love someone like I loved him in those nine short months.
It wasn't a healthy kind of love.
It was consuming, it was greedy.
And I loved every single second of it.

Now here I am, 1500 miles away, and I still think of him, and wonder how he is. I wonder if he watches any girls across the room, like I used to watch him in biology. I attribute my lack of knowledge in biology to him, because he was so mesmerizing, I couldn't focus on my studies. He would hold my hand under the desk, and though the gesture was small, it sent my heart into a frenzy.

It still boggles my mind that someone can have that huge of an impact on another's life.

I miss you.

You will not tear me down. I am stronger than you will ever be. I've been through more. I was abused by my own father. Your life is perfect. You have money and a supportive family.

Therefor, I am stronger than you, and you will not tear me apart. I've been there once, and I won't let it happen again. I will survive this. I will survive this at your expense.

I think I've reached the point of giving up, of surrendering to the fact that I will never be good enough for you. I feel sorry for you, and I want you to be happy. I know what it's like to obsess over someone. I know what it's like to do anything for them, be anything for them. I know how completely debilitating it is, and I know that you will try and try to replace them, but its never quite the same.

When you go and visit her in November, treasure every moment with her. Be thankful that she wants you as much as you want her. Bask in the happiness that she brings, treasure every time your heart skips a beat, because it means you're in love. Hold on to that feeling, hold onto her, and never, ever let go.

I choose to be happy for you. I choose to surrender to the sadness. I will be dragged down a long, long way. But I know I'll resurface. I won't drown this time.

I'm just sorry I wasn't good enough.

I fell in love with his hands on his guitar 

The sound of sharp drums rocking my ears

And there was him

And me 

And he may never love me

But that's okay. Because I have now. For now he is mine. 

You feel a lit shock 

So don't try and deny it when you're sober 

Also his face. Soft, babyish. It's the innocence that's left. 

And when he says follow me you know you will 

You always will. 

And when he brags, maybe that's not him because cocky. He just needs it to feel better. Why would you take away that descent feelings?

It's even more beautiful when he closes his eyes because he's lost in his thoughts. Which is amazing because he never wants to be caught in her thoughts. 

I feel like if I don't write right now I'm going say something I regret. Maybe if I'm drunk I'll say it and it'll be okay, but right now I feel like crying, because you love her, and not me. And I love you. Every time you say her name, a dagger goes through my heart. It's like a pulse of electricity shoots through my body and then zooms in on my heart. And then i break. I break inside every time you say her name. What does she have that I don't? Why can't i have you 

When you say my name I have to stop for a second and just let it ring in my ears. It leaves me still. Frozen. 

When you're feeling helpless, like you'll never get past this, remember to Never Stop and remember the alter and his brunette hair. Leo doesn't have brunette hair, so there. 

He didn't even date her. So maybe you're an equivalent. But she was here first. 

I feel like if I don't write right now I'm going say something I regret. Maybe if I'm drunk I'll say it and it'll be okay, but right now I feel like crying, because you love her, and not me. And I love you. Every time you say her name, a dagger goes through my heart. It's like a pulse of electricity shoots through my body and then zooms in on my heart. And then i break. I break inside every time you say her name. What does she have that I don't? Why can't i have you 

When you say my name I have to stop for a second and just let it ring in my ears. It leaves me still. Frozen. 

When you're feeling helpless, like you'll never get past this, remember to Never Stop and remember the alter and his brunette hair. Leo doesn't have brunette hair, so there. 

He didn't even date her. So maybe you're an equivalent. But she was here first. 

Maybe it's not even her. Maybe you, like me, need to hold on to the idea that there is more out there for us. There has to be more, right? More emotions, more happiness. I'm not in love with him, I'm in love with the idea because I need to. Right?

Sometimes I feel as if there is just too much heartbreak in the world. I mean, how much can my heart take before its permanently scarred and damaged? I've gone through so many crippling break-ups and rejections. Why do I even try if I know that I'm most likely going to flounder and then cry myself to sleep for months afterwards? I feel so hopeless right now about the future. Everyone I love turns out not to be who I thought they were, or they do something stupid that hurts me too much to stay with them. I mean, with this new guy, he's just fucked. He never dates people he actually likes. And he's obsessed with this girl who is hours away in another state. Like dude, I'm right here. I could love you. I could take care of you, but you're not here, you're over there with her. Open your eyes. I don't understand what I'm doing wrong.

At the same time though, I'm not even supposed to be dating anyone, so what the fuck am I doing right now.

You were never mine. And you never will be.
You belong to her, and I hate it.

How can it be so painful to lose someone who was never mine?

I know you care about me. I know that you will come back if I shove you. I need you for the same reasons you need me. And that reason is actually unknown. We both have no idea what we're doing, or what we're looking for. We're a wakeup call for each other.

But let you tell me this.
You will not break me.
You will not destroy me.
And that's not a challenge.
I mean literally, you will not break me.
You will break yourself before you break me.
I cannot be broken, see.
I was destroyed once already, and these beams? See these steal rods that hold my limps onto my body and my head onto my spine?
They are stronger than steal. They can't be penetrated.
As soon as you get close enough, I will throw you back with a jolt of electricity that will rock your world into nothingness.

I lied.
I do need to be needed.
And maybe I want you to need me, but it may never happen.

I suck life from people just as you do. I eat problems. I devoir them. And then I'm done, I sit back and spit in the world's face and say, "Look, my life is worse. My life is worse. I have created this horrible evil life for myself. I don't know what's real or not. But I don't care."

I am an evil human being with evil tendencies and intentions.
I could be a mass murderer.
I could rip limbs from people and feed off their screams.
I have sociopathic tendencies.
I am masochistic.
I am sadistic.
I am narcissistic.
I am a dangerous human being.
And I love me.

It makes me so angry when you complain about working.
First off, you get paid so well and you enjoy what you do. I work at fucking Pier1, okay? There are no paying jobs for someone my age in the department I'm working towards. It's all internships. And it's for stupid shit that I don't want to do. I don't want to be working in an office for 8 hours a day. That's horrific. I live with the "what if I die tomorrow?" philosophy.

Then, you complain about your "long hours". For you, "long hours" is like four hours. Five hours tops. You just worked maybe five hours and you're like "I will not accept less than $150". $150?!! Like you realize that's more than $30 per hour, right? I could work for 8 fucking hours and make maybe $70. And I'm on my feet all day, dealing with bullshit I don't deserve to deal with.

I don't deserve this. I deserve so much better. You have your life handed to you on a fucking white glove while I'm getting paid $9 an hour to sweep floors all fucking day long. And I cannot afford to fail my classes. I don't have a choice. I'm paying for my own goddamn college. I HAVE to do well.


So stop complaining. Just stop. My life is ten times worse.

Dear heart,
Stop it. You're so retarded. He's not yours. He'll never be yours. He belongs to someone else, and there's absolutely nothing you can do to change that. I know you care about it, but you also need to care about yourself. He can't be fixed. Nothing will ever fix you.

If you keep this up, he will destroy you, I promise. He will be your downfall.

So stop it with the butterflies, stop it with the jitters. Stop it with the overwhelming want and need to kiss him. He doesn't want to kiss you. He doesn't know what he wants. So just chill. Calm down. You can't stay here forever anyway. He's too messed up. You're messed up too, you need to take care of yourself. He's not even healthy to be around. You smoke around him. You drink with him. You even broke and scratched yourself up with a fork. A fork!! How does that even happen? You've never been that desperate. I can't even imagine what would have happened if there was a knife within your reach.

I know he gets you. I know he understands you before you even can. You get each other.


"You and me were always meant to be together, before we knew the other was ever there... You and me, we've got two minds that think as one, and our hearts march to the same beat. You and me, we're searching for the same light, desperate for a cure to this disease. Well, some days are better than others. But I fear no thing when you're with me." - You+Me

I feel like dying.

I feel like I lost someone that I love the most. I broke up with him and destroyed him.

I don't understand how my mind works. It jumps to rash conclusions with little or no evidence to support these extreme conclusions.

My friend went out without me = he doesn't like me.
He didn't even like me to begin with, so I don't know where I'm getting that from. He said he didn't love me like that, but it's just super annoying when he kisses me like we're more than friends. I don't even WANT to be more than friends.

I took a personality test and it said that I'm a masochist. So maybe I'm an emotional masochist. That's perfectly resonable, right? I mean, I kept taking my ex back and I knew that he was an asshole, and I knew that nothing good would ever come out of it, yet I still did it. Like wtf. What was I thinking.

I also am scared that he's going to completely destroy me (or try to anyway) because he's a sociopath and I'm convinced that he's sadistic. I don't think this is me being paranoid either, because he told me on the first day that I met him that he's a sociopath.

So I'm just sitting here on a glider feeling sorry for myself instead of studying, which I should be doing. Stupidstupidstupid. What if he's having sex with his friend? Why do I even care? He was never mine. I never owned him. He never owned me. So I need to stop caring. I need to shut down that part of my brain and just move on. I like being with him, he's addicting, like a drug. So I just need to snap out of it. He was weird today anyway, so maybe it's just a phase.

Also I think I'm going crazy because I swear to god I can smell him. Like where am I even getting that from?? I don't think my clothes smell like him.

I am crazy. I've come to this conclusion. Maybe not crazy, but twisted. I use sex to feel wanted and accepted. I lie to people constantly because I want them to feel bad for me, I want them to ache for me. Why do I do this? Why do I think it's okay to steal and lie and cheat. What went wrong. What happened to me. Do I blame my abuser? Was I raped? Am I making that up to? Where am I getting these ideas. Sometimes I feel like there's just an evil living inside me waiting to attack and I can't stop her. Maybe it's borderline or something. I mean, that came up on my test too. I'm very antisocial, narcissistic, and masochistic. And sadistic. Where am I getting these things from? This is not me. I don't know what's going on. I want to go off meds but I'm scared.


I'm probably just crazy.

For my daughter..

I hope the world doesn't turn you bitter like it turned me.
I hope you never lose your innocence, and your unbreakable smile.
I hope you never have to stare death in the face and make a choice.
Even if you do, I hope you choose life. Because I didn't. I chose to give up, to give in, and now death follows me everywhere.
I see it in my dreams. When I close my eyes, my eyelids are painted in dripping blood and pain.

I hope you never have to feel the hopelessness and emptiness that I did.
I hope that you never have to be a parental figure for your parents.
I hope that you never have to comfort me, or give me advice, or loan me money.
I will be your mother, and you will be my daughter,
and I will take care of you.
I won't abandon you,
I won't neglect you.
I'll always take care of you,
no matter how I'm feeling.
I won't be selfish.
I won't cry in front of you.
I will always be strong for you,
always fight for you.
I want to spoil you,
but I want you to be strong and independent.
I don't want you to shake in bed at night,
or see men out of the corner of your eye.
I hope you don't have to use sex to feel alive.
I hope you never wake up in a strangers bed.
I hope your mind never blocks things out in order to protect itself.
I hope that you can sleep at night,
get a full 8 hours if you want to.

I hope you are not a prisoner in your own mind.

Here's what I've learned.
There never is enough time.
There's always something you wanted to say or do and never got the chance to.
You'll always want one more hug, one more kiss.

This is how we'll say goodbye...

From the beginning, I knew this would break my heart, but there are some things that are worth the pain and you were always one of them.

I’m going to miss your eyes, and the way they loved me. They truly loved me. Not for the sex, not because I was pretty, but because you appreciated me and my presence and you loved me.  And I loved you too, Andrew. I meant forever. Maybe in another life I would stay here with you. Maybe you would stay, too, and we would buy a shitty apartment and live a long happy life together. But that’s not the hand I was dealt, and you know as much as I do that I need to get out of this life.
I apologize in advance for the tears and for the way I will knot my fingers into your hair. I’m sorry for putting off this goodbye until we don’t have enough time to say all the things that we wanted to say to each other, all of the things that we’ve practiced saying in our minds for months because we knew that this would happen eventually. I apologize for not wanting to have feelings right now. I apologize for telling you that it’s not goodbye just a see you later because we’re both grown up enough to know that when we say goodbye it will actually be permanent.

I’m sorry I’m still crying and I’m sorry that I will fill nights of crying when I think of you and saying goodbye to everyone and missing it so much, so fucking much.

I hope that even in old age or in darkness you’ll speak well of me, I hope it’s with a smile, the kind of smile that hides a little something at the corners, the kind of smile that people will ask you what are you smiling at? and you won’t be able to tell them. A memory. A beautiful memory.  I’m sorry about the inappropriate laughter right before I leave because I can’t imagine handling this. Because I don’t know how to say goodbye to you.

I don't cry in movies.

I don't cry in movies. At first I thought it was just because I'm socially shy. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I'm different than a typical movie theatre audience. 

Most of the time when people cry in a movie, it's because someone has died, or is dying. But I don't cry about death. I am numb to the idea of death. I'm accustomed to it. I have to be. 

I have seen death. I have stared death straight in the eye. I did not tremble, I did not cry. I laughed. I danced with death. I stood on the edge and peered down at the afterlife, or whatever comes next. I dared death to push me over that edge, so I could free fall into oblivion. I pondered death. I balanced my pros and cons. And I took a step towards it. And another. And another. I was so close, I could feel it sucking the air from my lungs, my soul...

And then I told death to go fuck itself. 

I don't know what changed my mind. But I decided to stay. 

So now, when people cry in movies, I shake my head. They don't know death like I do. They probably never will. 

And for that, I envy them. 

My eyes are always twitching,

My feet poised, ready to run. 

I feel the adrenaline race up my arms. 

But am I running to or from you?

I want to run to you. 

I want to wrap my arms around your neck 

And kiss you 

Like I used to. 

I want to kiss you 

Until our lips go numb,

And even then,

I want to continue to kiss you. 

It's just so unbearable 

To be in love with someone 

Who doesn't want a future with you. 

Love is being lost in him.
Love is feeling safe and nothing but peace in his arms.
Love is butterflies when he holds your hand,
utter and complete joy when you make him laugh,
when you're the cause of his smile.
Love is kissing him,
and he expects nothing more.
Love is respect,
and holding the door for you
long after your first date.
Love is never saying anything mean to you.
Love is never saying anything mean to him.
Love is not sarcastic.
Love is pure.
Love is the truth.
Love is forgetting about the past "hims" and moving forwards,
because he is your now,
and you love that.

Smart
Level-headed
Tragic.


When I asked him to describe me in three words, this is what he came up with. Yes, am I smart. Yes, I am level-headed. But tragic? I'm tragic??
I feel so broken. I told him everything. I bared my soul to him. Why? I have no fucking idea. I told him everything. I don't know what I'm doing. Why do I trust people like this?

You are so in love with yourself that you neglect to love the people who love you the most.
Your mama must be so proud.

You are my happy place. 

Thank you.

I'm bound by the love I felt that day, in the heat of the summer sun. Pure ecstasy. Baklava, and other honey treats, the smell of sugar and alcohol. The summer air clung to my skin and I was alive. I felt the rush. I was in love with him, in love with life. And I was so alive. Senses tingling, heart beating fast with longing and desire. 

Love like that isn't meant to last forever. It's intoxicating. Consuming. Debilitating. Electric shocks aren't good for your heart. 

I still cry every now and then when I hear his name, see his face in a crowd. But I am blessed to be one of the lucky few who will experience a love like that. And for that I will be forever grateful. 

I'm sorry that he hurt me. And I'm sorry I will never love you like I loved him. You're a great guy. You're smart and deserving. But I'm broken. I'm a shattered person who is afraid to love anyone, because of the what-ifs. There are so many what-ifs. And with college approaching fast,  my what-ifs are just expanding. I find myself not even trying to feel anything anymore, for fear of what will happen when I'm not allowed to see the people I love. I'm slowly destroying myself because he destroyed me, and I must've done something wrong, and I'm obviously not good enough for anything because, god damnit, I'm broken, and no one likes a broken human being. No one wants to be the glue to hold me back together, and I need to find that glue because I'm running out of patience. I just want to be normal. Go back in time to when things were so much more simple, and brush you and him and everything I ever loved away, so that all that's left is just purely me. And maybe then I won't feel so broken. Maybe the weight of the world is what's cracking me, and I'm tired of holding it up. 

I'm sitting in my car writing this and feeling extremely nauseous because you just drove an hour in a blizzard to see me, and I'm just sitting here wishing I had never met you, never agreed to that first date, because with every hello comes a goodbye, and I've had enough goodbyes to last me a lifetime. 

The nightmares never seem to go away. You left my dreams for a month. You let me breathe, let me sleep. But last night you came back to haunt me again, and I woke up with that sick feeling in the bottom of my stomach. And then the nausea followed, and the pain, like a knife stabbing into my intestines. 

I just want to be free from you. Is that too much to ask?

I haven't even seen you in a week now, but my brain had memorized your voice, your eyes, your face, the way you laugh, and all of your nervous habits. I've perfected you in my mind, and you won't go away. 

It's been a little over three months now since I packed up my things and walked out of the life we shared. I still catch myself missing you every now and again, when I hear a song that I associate with you, or when I see an old picture on Facebook. You were smiling. I was smiling. We had a light in our eyes that is unmatched, because we were in love. We were carefree, and it was summer. My hair is pulled up in a bun, probably because it was sticking to my neck again. My makeup is smudged a little, and it's obviously that I didn't dress up for the excursion. But you're looking me like a fan looks at their idol. Complete adoration, and respect. And love. I never knew a picture could capture so much love. Especially after how much I've been broken, my pieces thrown to the wind. But in that moment, we looked so whole, and so content.

We lay on the roof of my car one night, looking up at the sky. My head was rested in that perfect spot between your jaw and your collarbone, and everything was just right. I realized that night, that college loomed in my near future, and that my time with you was limited. But I knew that I would just treasure every moment even more, because even though heartbreak was imminent and unpreventable, I put all my emotions on the line to just spend this one moment with you, to soak in the happiness, and store it away for a cold winter night much like this one. I'll pull it out like my treasured photographs every now and then, and let the warmth radiate through my trembling sternum to warm my shivering heart. And I know that everything will be okay, even without you here at my side. Because you opened my eyes and showed me not just how to survive, but how to live.

~~~

I couldn't imagine spending that perfect summer with anyone but you.

Will someone please tell me
how to let him in?
I am trying so hard
to let him into my heart,
forcing my arms open
for him.
But I'm struggling,
and I'm tired of fighting myself.
I'm tired of being scared and afraid
because of someone else's stupid decisions.

My heart is staler than it used to be. A little bit older. A little bit stiffer. Like a smoker's lungs, blackened with the toxins that I inhaled for so long, refusing to accept the fact that he was dangerous and not healthy for me. But I was young, and stupid, and addicted to his high.

I always told myself I wouldn't be one of those girls who got hurt and then refused to love again. But even now, when you're showing all the signs, I find my reclusive heart burying itself behind my lungs, reminding me to breathe you in first. Only when I feel safe in your arms will I allow the vapors to waft into my heart.

My eyes are sharper now, more aware of every move you make, calculating, speculating, waiting for you to say or do something so I can push you away. I used to see through slanted vision, but now I know to keep my eyes wide. And it's not fair to you, but when you've been hurt and abused as many times as I have, the scars on your arms learn to sense the danger long before they allow another's skin to touch mine.

This Is How We Will Say Goodbye - by Stephanie Martin

This is how we will leave each other.

You will leave at 10:13 on platform 12, seven minutes before you have to catch your train back home. I will have knots in my hair and will be wearing the same clothes from last night, because we would have ran out of time in the morning to shower or tidy ourselves up.

I will try to tell you all the things I have kept inside of me, but my aptitude for words will be falling short. Instead, we will talk about the weather and how you hope the train won’t be filled with people on their morning commute. The unlucky vowels that I had chained together during our car ride will stay tucked away under my tongue, and will be washed down with the strongest coffee that the barista had to offer at the petrol station. I will jokingly ask him if coffee can wash down the shame of being cheated on, and he will reply that tequila works best for that.

I will leave you with the brightest smile that I can craft, parting you with the illusion that my heart isn’t breaking into a thousand pieces. I will think how the fragile pieces shine like the reflective glass in the concrete mixture on the floor. I will keep looking at them while you go through the checklist of things you need to bring. I will note how I am not on it and feel the cracks under my ribs escalate with every beating pulse. I have every right to be angry, you will say. It is as if validation can only be granted with your signed approval and charming smile. I will focus on counting the glittering particles and wait for acceptance to wash over me. I will pray that it’s on the next train coming in so that I can leave with more than what I came with.

I will leave you with the heartbreak that has folded itself inwardly with unforgiving heaviness. I will feel tiredness in every limb that begins from the chest and escalates to my toes. Even my words will seem dull and dry, and I will not know how to make them sound exciting or beautiful like they use to. Maybe that’s what you thought of when you kissed her; how her words shined so brightly in that dark bar and how her voice coated every syllable with an enthralling allure.

Looking at my words hurt my eyes, because they now exist with so much madness and disappointment that I feel like they are judging me for being such a poor host to them. All that is pouring out of my fingertips are harsh arrangements like ‘fuck’, ‘shit’, ‘betrayal’ and a couple of ‘what the fuck’ with too many ‘why the hell did you do that, you asshole’. Those are just a few examples of the words that I want to throw at you.

The ability to write delicate pretty words will be put on the back burner, because I have lost the ability to string together flowing lines on how much I loved you. I wanted to remind the world that I had never seen such bright and promising eyes like yours, but the world no longer needs to hear them. So I will follow the barista’s suggestion and begin my search for too much tequila with my roommate.

I will learn to live and let live, just like how you once whispered into my ears as we danced at your sister’s wedding in October. I will remember that it is your loss and that you are missing out on the fullness that only I can offer you.

I will leave you with open palms and my head held high to the summer sky. I will leave with grace and integrity that you lack in both virtues and morals. But most of all, I will leave you with the certainty that I will one day feel love in my ribs for another boy who will think that I am more than enough. I will leave you because I deserve better than anything you can offer, and the two other chances I gave you were twice too many.

He picked me up at 6:26, right as my panic attack peaked. I hugged my dad for dear life, because I was so terrified. I had a tiny bit of vodka because I was so panicked, and I don't even drink.

I curled my hair, and pinned by bangs back so they wouldn't get in my face like they always do.
I wore my red sweater, with black jeans, and my cable-knit socks with my combat boots. The ones with the ribbon laces. I had my little side purse, with the tassels. My face was masked. My eyes dusked with a champaign color, my eyelashes lush.  And I stood there terrified. I felt beautiful, and amazing, and confident, and terrified, and so insecure. He wore a hat with ears. He called it his russian hat, and I laughed.

He picked me up at the door,  instead of just texting me. And my dad said hi. I just wanted to run into my dad's arms, go on a "date" with him instead. He walked me to his car, and opened the door for me, which is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. I told him he was really tall. He said I looked nice.

We went bowling. He won twice. We tied 75-75 once. The Simpsons were on the television above our heads. He tried to spell my name without an H. He wears a size 11. My ball was green. His was brown. We laughed until my face hurt, and bowled until I couldn't feel my arm.  We had alley #3. We bowled for an hour.

Then we went to Denny's. At first he tried to go to some other restaurant in his town, but it was closed. We went the Denny's on Washtenaw. He told me that didn't pay for their food there once. I thought that was weird, but whatever. He ordered cinnamon pancakes, but he told me they were too sweet. He ordered his eggs over-easy and put pepper on them, and butter on his pancakes. I ordered waffles and bacon and sausage and scrambled eggs, and we both got waters. I got weird pancake ball things because my waffle almost didn't work out. The machine was broken or something, so I almost had to get french toast.

At the end of the night, he hugged me. I don't know if he tried to kiss me or not, but it was awkward. First dates always are.

I just don't want to forget this night. It was so incredibly normal.

"We are all just waiting for another universe to collide with ours, to change what we can’t ourselves. To fill us, to make us whole. It’s interesting how afterwards, we realize that the storm returns to calm, but the stars are always changed and we don’t choose whose collisions change us." - Brianna Wiest

Someday,
I know
I will let go of this hurt
and hate
that follows me around
and strangles me,
so that my eyesight blurs,
and all I can see
is red
anger.

Someday,
I will look out my bedroom window,
and be content
with my life.
Surrounded by hopes
and dreams,
that are finally real for me.
I will be loved,
and I will love others
without hesitance,
and you
will be a distant memory.

Someday.

My lungs are screaming.
I grab at my chest,
as if this gesture
will somehow relieve the pressure.

Breathe in,
feel the resistance
as the harsh air burns
through your trachea.
Your body shudders,
protesting,
and then giving in.

Breathe out.
Relief.
There is air
in this world.
You can breathe.
He can't take that away.
No one can.
You are in control.

One more breathe.
One more day.
Slowly
learning to live
again.

Music is your inhaler.
Take daily,
as needed
to free your heart
from the pain.
To free your lungs
from the ropes
that bind them closed.

It's weird what death can do to people.
It's such an abstract idea, yet, so absolute.
You stand over someone who is dying, and you feel things you've never felt before. Hurt for someone you don't even know. The realization that at any moment they may take their last breath, and there's really nothing else you can do for them. So you just start praying. Even if you're not religious. You start chanting in your head, and you hope that someone, or something... anything... will hear you. Something greater than any of us will reach down and pluck the misery from their soul, and either take them away, or heal them.

It's strange and so surreal, and you just count your lucky stars that you are okay, and healthy, and alive.

Flashback to the Toledo Zoo.
I remember going into the insect cave together. You holding my hand when you saw the huge ass spiders, and me laughing at your terrified expression. We walked hand in hand through the park. We saw polar bears and tigers. Little fuzzy animals weaving in and out of bars, playing tag. It started to downpour and we sat under the awning of a little snack bar and ate soft pretzels, looking out at the train station that was currently shut down because of the rain. And we were happy. I was happy to be there with you. You were happy to be there with me. I bought a t-shirt that day, at a booth by the polar bears. It says Toledo Zoo. When I slipped the shirt on this morning after my shower, I was suddenly reminded of you. I wonder if you ever think of me.


Fast forwards to Afternoon Delight.
I have a ham sandwich. You have some sort of grilled cheese something-or-other. I have mandarin oranges and cherry pepsi. You do, too. We are laughing and talking about stupid shit. Like how your best friend just broke up with his girlfriend, and now he wants to get back together. You only see it lasting a few weeks. We laugh at their stupidity. I ask you to join my soccer team, and you willingly oblige. We laugh at random people in the restaurant. And then you pick my hand up and cradle it in both of yours. And I'm mesmerized. I can't look you in the eye. I'm staring at my hand, lost in yours. And in that moment, if you asked me to come back, if you asked me to love you again, I know that I wouldn't even hesitate. I would lean over our half eaten sandwiches and cherry soda and I would take your face in my hands and kiss you, just like I used to. And no one else in the world would matter except for you, because I still love you.

What am I doing.
I'm lost in you.

I met up with you for lunch the other day.
Being with you is as easy as breathing. I don't have to be anyone, prove anything, look a certain way. I just... am, and that's good enough for you.

I know that I'm stronger than half the people in this room. They didn't have to go through the abuse that I did. I was abused for ten years and was sworn into silence because I was so scared. And even though I deny it, it's what messed me up. But I pulled myself back up, and put myself back together, and faked a smile until it turned genuine.

No one else in this room can say that.

Yes, I have scars. But I'm so much stronger than you will ever be.
I'd take these scars over being a coward any day.

I want to be ready to accept someone into my life again. But I know that I can't do that right now. I need to finish off high school, settle into my new life as a young adult, get used to who I am again, find a job, a purpose... and then, maybe he'll stumble into my life. I'm done with these stupid high school relationships. I refuse to get all tangled up in them again. They're awful. The boys think with their dicks, the girls think with their estrogen levels. I feel something inside me changing, growing stronger, building, glowing. Maybe its me, as an adult. I'm growing up and out of this teenage life, out of these chains that bind me to my parents. I'm finally blossoming into someone I can be comfortable with, someone who doesn't need to look in the mirror or rely on how many likes I get on Facebook. A doctor. A mother. That's what I want.

I'm ready to start my life.

I have you. 

After all this time, I own you. You are mine.

The only thing I'm good at is destroying myself.

it's not fair that i'm up until stupid o'clock
crying,
crying,
and you
are lying in your bed
dreaming of her.
and how goddamn
perfect
she is.
i'm stuck here crying myself to sleep,
and you fall asleep with no problem,
because tomorrow
you will see her.
you will hold her.
you will kiss her.
you will be happy,
and i will not,
so i ask you.
why her.
why not me.
why can't i just be
happy.

It hurts. 

It hurts to know that you moved on so quickly. 

And I know that someday, I'll find someone better, and this will all be in the past. And it won't hurt so much. 

But for now, I will sit in this bathroom stall and cry for everything we had, and everything I lost when I lost you. 

I will let my heart break freely, feel the pieces scatter like dandelion seeds. But they will not go to waste. They'll bury themselves in the ground, and grow into beautiful flowers. Stronger, wiser, happier. More alive. And then, when they are ready, I will snip them up and put them in a bouquet on my kitchen table.

When the next boy comes along, I will offer him my bouquet. I won't be afraid. Because I am titanium, and no one can crush me.