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.