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. 

She came knocking on my door

When I was 14 years old. 

But I did not let her in. 

I held my head high

And said,

"Get the hell away from me."

And so she receded back

Into her dark dwelling

And left me alone. 

But not for long. 

Soon, she slithered out

Of her hiding place,

Spreading a subtle black veil

Over everything she encountered. 

The veil was harmless,

Sometimes even unnoticeable. 

But sometimes, 

If I turned my head just right,

The veil was there. 

Sometimes it blacked out harmless things,

Like cereal preference, 

Or what color my shoes were. 

One day I woke up,

And discovered a black cloak over my face,

Instead of the once feathery veil. 

She cast a spell on the material,

And it became opaque. 

Still, I could see through the threads,

If I turned my head 

Just right. 

Stay the hell away from my dad. He's mine. All mine. You'll be gone in under a year anyway, he can't keep a woman. He doesn't love you. He loves me. He loves me more than he'll ever love another woman.

When I need him he's never here for me. He's always there for you. Why you. Give him back to me. When I'm standing outside in the cold calling him, he won't answer the phone. Probably because he's holding your babies in his arms. He'd rather comfort them than me, and it's not fair. Get the fuck away from him, get out of our lives. You're not welcome here. You're not my mother. Your children will never be my step-siblings.

So just leave. Get out.

The Wall

My wall
is beautiful.
It is so strong,
though the foundation
is getting old
now.

My first brick was placed
when I was only months old.
And then another
when I was four.
Another when I was six.
Another when I was thirteen.

I started making serious
renovations
when I was fifteen,
and my first boyfriend
broke my heart into
a million tiny pieces.

So you want to see my scars?

This is my first scar.
This scar was your goodbye.
This scar was intended to
block out all of the hurt
when you left me here.
This scar was meant
to let me bleed
all the sorrow
out of my heart.
But this scar turned out
to be
something bad.
This scar led to another
and then another
and then I was lost.

My shoulder
is the worst.
My shoulder has so many lines,
it looks like
I was attacked
by a cheese grater.
One of my coworkers saw these
and almost reported me.
But I laughed and told her
that my puppy
needed her nails trimmed.
And she believed me.

I have more scars
on my hips
than I do
on my arms.
Because I didn't want
help.
I wasn't a desperate cry
for attention,
I just wanted release.
So my razor moved here.
Quiet. Alone.

And this one,
this one is the best
of them all.
H-A-T-E.
I carved this one
into my arm
after I felt so alone
and so isolated.

Because you just picked up all of your things,
and left me here.
You packed your boxes
and didn't even tell me
that you were leaving.
And I found out on accident
because my stupid car
broke down on the side of the road
and I had to call for help.
And I remember those boxes.
They took up your entire car.
And I knew
that if you had the choice,
you would have just ignored my call,
and left
forever.

See,
because of you
and how you hurt me,
when I looked into my rearview mirror
and saw someone that I
hated.



When I got out of the hospital,
I told Laurie about
this scar.
And you sat next to me,
and cried.

You are not allowed to cry.
Not when these scars
are because of you.

Today is still young
and you are part of my yesterdays.