All your riches.

You left me with everything, but all I wanted was you

Bitter

To me the coldness of the bitter winter air is more than just cold. It's more than just that pain right before your fingers are completely numb.

To me, the winter is full of another pain. Maybe it's because I'm always cold and it reminds me that you aren't there to keep me warm. Or maybe it just proves to me that there is a season for everything and just like you took summer, you took love as well. 

But then I realize I can't blame winter. I apologize for trying. Because last winter I was in love. Because last winter I was happy. And last winter we'd just fallen for each other. And we were happy.

I just want things to be the way they were.

Will you fall for me again?

Slitting my wrists

I'm standing in front of my bathroom mirror with a razor blade in hand. But I can't do it. I'm not really depressed and the little scratches I've already put on my left wrist were painful. I don't want to do it but I know that after I do, I'll feel satisfied. Not because this pain is masking another, but because I'll get the attention I've been begging for. And maybe that is pain. Maybe I am masking it.

So I press as hard down into my wrist as I can allow myself. 

It stings.

But still, only a scratch.

Hardly any blood. But that's what I need. I need blood for attention. For the attention I've been begging for. For the attention I thought I deserved. 

How did I get here? I've never wanted to inflict physical pain on myself. Why now? How would this get me the attention I want? Well it'll let him know I'm serious. And that I won't do this anymore. It'll let him know that I'm as important as she is. It'll make him treat me better. I hope.

But I can't do it. So I put the razor down and cry myself to sleep. And the next morning I beg once more

Your interest. My illness.

She doesn't get a got of attention.

There are two reasons why.

Interest and Illness.

Reality

Wake up and think about three things you love about her

Separate but equal

I found it hard to mourn

As I came near, I hid my possession under my shirt

I need a place to sleep

Can you make that ray of sunshine stay even if it's cloudy?

Obtain-to gain possession of; to aquire with effort

A mad desire to dance

And suddenly harmony is restored between us

I want to be the one nobody sees

Grabs hold of you

As good a remedy as any

Uncover a new vein

Relax

I want to leave a mark

I'm seeking to make sense of my life

I pull him in deeper

He was too elated

Darling, I'm writing you a happy letter

Decaying memories

Sloppy usage and low standards

Backseat

I'm thinking about you.

I'm thinking about those cold winter nights when I'd pick you up from work.

I'm thinking about when our love was perfect.

I'm thinking about a certain night in perticular.

I'm thinking about the night that we didn't have anything to do, so we decided that the back seat of my car looked pretty comfy.

I'm thinking about how I sat on your lap and our love was real.

I'm thinking about how the back seat of a car is usually sexual but not to us that night.

I'm thinking about how you held me and kissed my forehead while you told me you loved me.

I'm thinking about how gentle you were with me.

I'm thinking about how you played with my hair and I felt your love.

I'm thinking about how you took care of me.

I'm thinking about how you told me it was time for you to go and that I needed to be home too.

I'm thinking about how you started saying goodbye and you hugged me.

I'm thinking about how I couldn't keep from crying because I didn't want you to go, and how you just held me close.

I'm thinking about how you wiped my tears and begged me to stop because it hurt you to see me so sad.

I'm thinking about how you told me that feeling my body shake as I cried made it so much harder.

I'm thinking about how I knew you loved me in that moment.

I'm thinking about how much I love you.

I'm thinking about you.

I'm sick

I'm sick of everyone saying fall is a bad thing. I'm sick of you all complaining about the cold weather and your tan going away. And I want you to just stop. Close your eyes and feel the cool breeze. Listen to the crunch of the leaves under your feet and love the moment you're in. Because Christmas is coming for goodness sakes! Why aren't you excited???!!!! Or maybe you need a better reason. Maybe you should love this moment because it could be your last. But even if it was, it wouldn't matter. I'm sick of people not appreciating everyday for what it is.

 You're running out of days. And there's no way to earn more.

I'm sick of people making a cover. I'm sick of the hours of time you put on your outside appearance and the little time on the inside. Just so people will think you're better than everyone. Maybe we shouldn't relate this to our physical appearance. Instead let's relate it to our journals. I'm sick of your intricate notebook covers and your sloppy inside pages. I'm sick of you trying to get attention for it. It's ok though.

I'm just gonna leave my cover blank. And you'll see a plain notebook. But I'll see me.

I'm sick of the the high school popularity system. Just stop.

What I wish you knew.

I wish you knew what I'm really thinking.

What I'm thinking when you're all laughing about what the homecoming king just said and when you're all admiring something great. I wish you knew what I'm thinking everytime we all focus on the same people over and over again.

I wish you'd think of the girl who's never been recognized and how she feels. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not saying the good old, "Be a friend to the friendless!" and the, "I challenge you to all find someone who needs a friend" no. That's not what I mean. 

What I really want you to know is that I'm aching, but it doesn't hurt because I know better. And I worry about those who don't. 

I ache because so few receive all the praise in this world and so many receive none. And they deserve some too. Half of us don't praise the people we do because we actually like them. We just start liking what the people around us like.

I wish you knew that I'm worried about you. Because I am. I'm worried that you aren't being recognized, and you deserve it. All because we're following a leader and we're all liking what they like. I'm worried because I know how you feel. I'm not recognized either. But remember. I know better.

I wish you knew better too. I know you cry in the shower because then you can't really tell how many tears there are. And maybe it will make the pain seem less not knowing about your tears.

I know because I used to cry in the shower too. And then, I'd get out and pretend it didn't happen. And I'd put that smile on and walk out into a world that doesn't recognize me. But then I learned. And now I know better.

I know that everyone and their opinion doesn't matter. I know how to not care. And that's the best feeling. 

I wish you knew how to not care. I wish you knew how to ache without feeling pain. Like me. You're able to be happy. Although I will admit you'll be very annoyed with the way our world works...but you'll be happy.

I wish you knew, but until you do. I'm the lucky one who doesn't care.

Insides

My insides know me better than any of you.

They even know me better than I know myself.

They know what I want, and sometimes that's hard to know.

My insides tell me everything I need to know, but what frustrates me is that they hold things from me. My insides know things way before I do and that's because they don't tell me everything as soon as they know it. And sometimes they just leave things out.

But then I learned why they do that.

It's cause they know I'll figure it out eventually and they know that things will be better for me if I don't know things as soon as they do. My insides are smart.

Sometimes I wish they weren't though...

I've learned a lot from my insides and if I could give you any advice about yours, listen to them.

They know everything.

And they can't keep it all from you.

It's like your insides have a bunch of peanut butter and jelly which is the information they are keeping from you. But they have to keep it on bread to make a sandwich and a little bit of peanut butter and jelly always squishes out onto the edge of your sandwich. Well that little bit is the information that they cannot hide. Now they didn't just tell you like they do when they actually want you to know something, they just couldn't keep it from squishing out. So that's when you have to do what they always say "listen to your heart" or "go soul searching" or "listen to your gut" and usually when you do those things, it turns out just fine. And even if it doesn't, that was what was supposed to happen and that's where you're supposed to be.

Your insides know. I promise.

Don't leave me here...

I know it's not likely but I long for us to die in each other's arms in the exact same moment.

Then we wouldn't have to face death. I'm more afraid to watch you die than to die myself. I'm more afraid to lose you than to lose my life.

But I know we aren't that lucky. We've already been blessed to have each other for so long, it's someone else's turn for the luck.

So we must face death.

If you leave before I do, I'll cry everyday.

I'll cry because I miss you and wish I could wake up next to you and make you breakfast. I'll cry because I feel alone and would give anything to feel your arms around me just one more time. I would cry because I am afraid. I would lay over your grave and tell you about my day. I'd cry and I'd laugh with you cause I need to feel again.

And I'd hope to be with you soon.

But if I leave before you do, I'd be thankful to know it was your arms that I was in when I left and your eyes I was looking into. I'd cry because I can't bear to watch you suffer. And I'd cry because I wish you were here with me. But most of all, I'd be your angel. 

I'd comfort you when you miss me and be there when you wake up. I'd listen and laugh and cry with you when you tell me about your day. I'd love you and protect you. I'd spend every minute with you and I'd be your angel.

And I'd hope to be with you soon.

And that's why I fear death. That's why I can't face it.

Alone

What's worse than being alone?

Nothing.

And I don't just mean being single for life, or whatever I mean really being alone.

Like the silent darkness

Or the knowledge that you're on your own and no one is coming for you but you need them. And you're scared.

Now that's bad.

But what's worse is knowing that something is there, and then having it taken away.

Single forever isn't bad.

But love. Love is terrible.

Having love and then losing it.

That's what alone feels like.

That's as lonely as anyone could ever be.

That's what I'm afraid of.

The Little Things

Remember when we weren't in love?

When the background on your phone was always a football team logo and I had no one to give the cookies I baked to.

Remember when we had free time, so we did our laundry.

Remember when you and I were both craving love and some how didn't even know we were?

And how I used to have to wear my own jackets? And we would pay attention in school...

But now we are in love, and the background on your phone is a picture of me.

And I bake cookies for you. And now neither of us have time to do laundry cause we're always together and now we know what love is.

And now you never have a jacket to wear cause I'm always stealing them, that's ok right? And now neither of us pay attention in class cause we have to be communicating at all times.

All because we're in love

Bricks upon bricks

You start with nothing

Just some dirt or clay

And some water

So you put them together

And work at it

And you shape it into what you want it to be

A brick

And now you can benefit from it

It can protect you

It can shield you from the cold

It can hold what you want inside

But only if you use it the right way

Only if you build something with it

It will take work 

And you may have to touch it up every once in a while

But it will be worth it

Because it provides you with so much

You start out with nothing

Just you and your empty heart

And another person

And their empty heart

So you put them together

Cause they want to be and they belong

Because together they can be something better and they know it

And no other is the right match for this perfect recipe

So you shape it into what you want it to be

And you make it perfect

And now you can benefit from it

It can protect you

It can shield you from the sadness 

It can hold your heart

But only if you use it the right way

If you work at it and build it to make it better

And you may have to touch it up every once in a while

But it will be worth it

Because it provides you with so much

No one really knows

What is love? No one really knows. Love is whatever you want it to be. Right? Or is it something else? Is it even real? Is it just a feeling or is it more? 

Love is everything.

Love isn't just kissing in the rain or a dozen red roses.

It's more than that.

A lot more.

Love is sharing your favorite food even when you only have a little left. Because you want them to be happy more than you want yourself to be.

Love is having a meeting place.

Love is dancing terribly together.

Love is what comes first, or at least it should.

Love is messing up each others hair.

Love is the silly car rides with laughs.

Love is holding each other and wishing you never had to let go.

Love is wanting to share your life.

Love is what lasts.

Love is lucky.

So if you have it. Hold on to it. And don't you dare let go just because you think there might me something a little better out there for you. Because you're lucky. You got a shot at love. Some of us don't. You better not let go.

Love Letters

If I had to tell you that I love you in a different way everyday

I could do it 

And maybe it's because I get creative with my words sometimes

Or maybe it's because there are so many ways to love you

On the first day I would simply say "I love you"

The next day I would tell you that I love your eyes

Or that I just love to be with you

I could tell you that I love your laugh or the way you love me

Now I could go through every little detail about you that I love and that would probably take a month or two

And then I would start telling you the other reasons I love you

Not just simple reasons

But the ones you don't think of everyday

I would tell you that I love the way you stay in my heart and I know you're always there

I'd tell you that I love the way you make a mess of us and then piece it back together

I'd tell you that I love the way you cry in my arms and stop as soon as I say that I will always love you

I'd tell you that I love our love

I'd tell you that I love to take care of you and that I love the way we share this fragile thing and we take care of it together and we work at it together

I'd tell you that

And maybe some days I'd be saying the exact same words as the last or as three moths ago but it'd still be different

Because this time

My love for you is more than the last

Crayons

When I was given a box of crayons on the first day of school every year as a child, I didn't want to use them. I didn't want to ruin them. They were so perfect. All perfectly sharpened and beautiful. As soon as I used them, they were all broken and dull. It was best if I left them alone. 

Like the world. Better if I didn't touch it or effect it at all.

But then someone told me to use my crayons.

And I did.

And that's when I realized that it didn't hurt anything.

Maybe it could make things better.

So I grabbed the crayons and the paint.

I found some paper, I found a wall.

And I made the world better.

And then I realized that I could make the world better with more than just crayons and paint and markers.

I could dance.

I could sing.

I could write.

And maybe it'd be terrible.

But sometimes terrible things make the world better.

And even if it is terrible.

It didn't hurt.

I'd rather be a terrible creator than not be one at all.

The world needs creators.

Good and bad.

So, here. Have some crayons.

To those who've never gone down.

This is to those who've never gone down. 

To those who've never known what it's like.

It being depression.

You may be reading this thinking "I know exactly what it is and what it's like"

But you don't.

Heck I might not even know what it's like.

I think I've been there.

But surely I've never been as deep down as someone else.

But if you happen to be the person reading this who thinks "I've never been depressed" well this is for you.

You don't choose to do it and you don't realize it's happening until it's over.

It's a constant fight.

First you fight to stop it.

Because when it starts, it's just a bad day and surely tomorrow will be better.

But tomorrow gets worse.

Oh well maybe I'm just having a bad week you think to yourself.

But it lasts longer than a week.

Everyday getting worse than the one before it.

Not because of what's happening or what the people around you are doing. Of course you'll truly believe that that's what's to blame, but it isn't. What's truly at fault is yourself. You're sick. You don't know it but you are. Theres no cure or remedy. You just have to wait it out. You think everyone hates you and when they treat you well, you think it's out of sympathy or that they will turn it around at any moment and laugh. That it's all a trick. 

But then one day you realize that today was better than yesterday and you laugh a little. You love someone a little and you realize that that someone did something for you and it was genuine. Not a trick. And then you feel happy. But NO! It's wrong! You can't feel happy! You can't have a friend! You are sad and pathetic and you simply need to wallow in your pity for the rest I your life and feel terrible about yourself. Because you're worthless. So you fight it! You fight the only good in your life to make it go away. But it doesn't. Everyday is better than the day before, and you can't stop it. 

Now to those of you who've never gone down, that's what it's like.

Broken keyboard

It's like you're invisible. But not completely invisible. Because if you were, they wouldn't be able to see you. See you to laugh at you and to make themselves better in the eyes of those laughing with them. Like the only reason they see you is because they want to laugh. And if you do something good, they just pretend that it's gone. And somehow you feel like this right here, this very thing you're writing will somehow teach them a lesson. But it won't. They will just continue laughing. And if you write something good, they will pretend it isn't there. So you want to stop writing. Cause maybe your keyboard is broken. But then you realize it's not. It's you. You're broken. So then you try to work. You read and you write and then you read some more so you can become better. Just so you can be invisible. Completely invisible. Because no attention at all is better than the negative attention. And all the while you hope. Just a little bit of hope in the back of your mind, that one day you could be like them. Even just a little. One little comment on your work being great is all. But it won't happen. And you know that. But then you remember how great your life is. How happy it is even though you can't write something as great or even close to as great as theirs with all your work and time put into it. You can't write something even close to theirs with all you have even when they write it without a single thought or breath. So you just stay happy with your life because it's great. And maybe you would wish all the world away just to write something half as good as theirs but you have something they don't have. And maybe they want what you have, they just don't realize you have it. So then you feel content. But here you are. Still writing. 

I'm here.

I'm a soul.

I'm broken and scared but I'm here.

No one knows me or what I feel.

No one cares.

And it's ok.

I don't need them to care.

I only need one thing.

I need to love.

It doesn't matter what it is that I'm loving, just that I am.

I need to laugh.

I need to express who I am and who I want to be. So I will.

I will write.

I will read.

I will create.

I will care.

And if I can't do those things then I will make something up.

I'll create something to love and care about and I'll laugh about it too.

Maybe I'll even write something and then read it. And I'll love it.

Or maybe I'll get lucky.

Maybe I'll find someone to love.

Then I can write about them.

And read it.

And I can laugh with them and care about them.

Maybe I'll get lucky.

I'm here. Hoping to get lucky.