Ecstasy. III

Not long did it take for the Golden shield, worn by this mistress of mystery to begin to protect me as well. The helium balloon was neither hers nor mine. It simply was. That's all we could've ever hoped it to be. This dusty snow globe of a world I reside in stayed just as dusty as always, yet I saw less of it— or rather felt less of it I suppose. This angelic figure of a woman and I had never separated since that day. All in all the activities of my day continued the same as before. However the mundane ambiance had evaporated now that I can share it with someone. Still, her high-stapled cheek bones and perfected bits of calcium make me uneasy. Whatever disease gives it to these balloon wielding miracles must be contagious. With her at my side she's basically sewn my corners to the top. She said it would be a lot harder to break than the staples the balloon gave her. As the time we spent together grew so did the gravitational force of those charismatic eyes she wore. They weren't Perfect, in fact it may have been her one and only imperfection, but she never pretended like they were either.  That has potentially always been the most intriguing fact about her. A human able to stay completely honest and still wear a halo of hair unlike any others.
She stuck out like a sore thumb. At least next to me anyways. As we walked the desolate avenues it looked as though we were an unmatched pair with our balloon as some adopted bastard of a child. When in fact neither of us could begin to see such a future. She just knew I'd never have the confidence to hold such an immense privilege in my hands without the warmth of hers helping me. We often had our fair share of stares and scowls from the creature like humanoids nested near the sewage drains. She never paid mind to them. I suppose I may have cared too much, even if I used to know them. They were different now. Not a single light shone except for her during all hours of the day. Like a spontaneously lit candle willing to sacrifice everything for a plebian whom of which certainly didn't deserve it. The light she emitted was a window into a previously unperceivable world with no dust at all.
When we were by our lonesome that window would widen to the fullest. In that window, was a world whose clouds only made shapes of animals, something no one has seen for years— at least... Not where I'm from. There was the same heap of snow but without the suffocation that comes with it. A world where the sun was always generously trading with the moon. This is where the balloons came from.
The window closes to her scolding me. I had no idea that I could get lost in someone's eyes so easily. She seldom spoke and whenever she did all I could ever hear was an angelic siren of reassurance that she'll never let this balloon go. I believe her. I felt drowned in euphoria. A type of feeling you only experience a few times in your life. The feeling of your lungs filling with helium lifting up what had been thought to be a useless soul. A special warmth in the upper-left sector of your ribcage I had never knew existed until she came along. A feeling so beautifully grotesque that if I were to breathe my last breath in those moments that breath would have a special enchantment to it that only she could form out of nothingness. She had taught me a new word as well, it must of been for describing her. I believe it was called "Perfe—"

After removing myself from this baptism of happiness she so instilled, I return to the scolding.  Apparently it had been my turn for over 5 minutes; we were playing chess. I was godawful at the game; goddamn was she good at it. I would just sit and arrange all the little figurines as though I was actually attempting to storm a castle. In my head the pawns were going to flank the side entrance, like the surprise of her arrival. I personally thought bishops were useless, just out of experience, forgetting it was a board game. The rest of the pieces just seemed to have arbitrary limitations. Like my own. Except for the Queen of course. The most powerful piece on the board. It had become the embodiment of her. All her pieces were golden, lined with red threads. Mine were dust ridden. Worn out, old, and obviously replaceable. Throughout the game the balloon sat and watched. Noiseless like a traumatized child; observing me endlessly. Watching me get lost in the thought and study of what happiness actually feels like. Subconsciously I was making each move take a little longer in hopes that maybe the window would stay open.
"Checkmate" she says.
I had almost intentionally put myself in a corner of the board, to make my rusted king suffer less. She decided to drag on his suffering with her two beautiful rooks. Somehow she knew how to amuse me. My face had sewn it's self upwards. The muscles twitched and creaked as this pleasurable roar of noise erupted from my vocal chords.  Hers was just the same. It was probably the loudest thing she's done. Seeing her do that caused my face to clench so tight the ends of my eyes crinkled. She seemed to enjoy that.
It grew to be late. The evening was near indescribable. I lay awake too full of adrenaline as the balloon separated her and I across the room. I was scared to fall asleep, I still am, because reality had become far greater than my dreams ever have.
I roll over just to stare into the balloon as I drift off with my helium filled lungs.
"This was the hope I had always Dreamt of".

Bliss. II

Day after day. Cloudy sunrise after cloudy sunrise. Gloomy Moonlight shone through each night as the one small glimpse at something known as hope.
One usual dead December day a red balloon attached itself to me. At first I was somewhat alarmed at just what the hell this was. I had knew of colors but never seen them in person. Not because I'm colorblind but because there are none in this dust enclosed dome of despair people are literally dying to get out of. There it sat, taunting me knowing I could never fully grasp it's presence. At least it was nice to look at, a small, nearly blooded, glimmer of hope to reach for. The red balloons were reserved for those who were actually good people, with money. The balloon refused to leave and so it just floated around me, like a cloud with no rain orbiting me as I travrsed my snowy wastelands.
Eventually there was a crowd surrounding me, making all this unbearable noise, futilely trying to remove the balloon from my orbit. Then I noticed a specific girl in the crowd. She was different from all the rest, she had this golden sheild of hair that seemed to repel the dust. Her face was nearly freakish, at least to me. She looked just like your stereotypical balloon owner, even though she didn't have one on her, with their top facial muscles clenched to perfection, showing off the impeccable calcium tablets held hostage in her mouth, all 32 of them; each corner pinned underneath their eyes, but hers wasn't forced.
She seemed odd especially in such an animalistic crowd however an Enjoyable resonance that only I seemed to be able to feel emitting from her. She approached me and with a power Unknown to me she grabbed the balloon. After the gasps from our audience had ceased the taped the balloon to my hand and vanished.
The crowd dispersed, seeing as I somehow possessed the balloon now. As the exposure to the balloon had extended more and more I could feel my facial muscles slowly clenching as well, until the balloon detached itself from me and disappeared. And so I continue the trudge through the dust all the way to my house, which certainly never felt like home. Another night of intimidating Moonlight passes by.
I wake to find the balloon there again. Except now it was glued to my hand. The day went on similarly to yesterday with an unsettling amount of Stares. My tongue-gaurding calcium began to slowly show itself. Suddenly, the balloon seem to have enough, it knew I didn't have any right to it. It tore itself away from my hand. I felt nothing as the glue tore away at my shell of a body but it still hurt. As the balloon began it's vertical escape the girl appears again. Her resonence began to consume me, a piece of me had been longing for her presence. She grabs the balloon again, still just as surprising as before. With it in hand she steps towards me, saying how she never wanted a balloon despite how fitting she is for one. She locks her hand into mine sealing the balloon in place. It must have been hers, but why? Why would she try so hard to give this to me? That answer I still don't know. But her hand has still never left me, she follows by my side making sure I hold on to this helium balloon she calls happiness.

Clarity. I

Tunnel Vision, it's this odd occurrence that lead's to a plethora of idiocy in decision making. It causes a person to literally not see something five feet in front of them. It prevents those who want things from realizing they already have what they're searching for. It is a fogginess of time wasting the revolves around trying to shove yourself into every other person's life when they clearly want nothing to do with you. This fog prevents you from seeing that someone has already accepted you as a person. And that this meaningful conversation escapade has been using a broken compass to guide you. North has been right in front of you the whole time. What's north you ask? A snake. A Boa more specifically. And this Boa has always been there always platonically loving you, always making you laugh, always listening to you, always reading your poems right away, and most of all always fixing your earrings. This Boa has never abandoned you yet your fog is so thick that you've never taken notice to how much companionship and security has been possible for the last three years. All along the reptilian has slowly became more and more like family to you and has a venom that's sweet with no sting.
The lightbulb has finally clicked, you see it now. It lies in wake glaring at you with jouful eyes. What's scary is the lack of anxiety around the Boa even though you're terrified to go near any of the others.
Finally you see the open unhinged jaw lunging towards you, and you smile as the venom fills your bloodstream. You can finally rest peacefully and happily; for all that the Boa has done for you. You have achieved, Clarity. 

Denial

For the most part I completely agreed with the social stigma that exes are supposed to be these demonic human beings whom of which you never want to see or hear from again. People that suddenly are supposed to mean nothing to you even if they used to be the only thing holding you upright.
-------------------------------------

After the last month and a half I couldn't disagree with that idea more. I don't talk to her anywhere near as much as when we were together— when I was happy. Even if that's the case if I allowed myself, I would still be texting her day and night. I still talk about her just as reverent as before. I'll still bring her up and talk about just how amazing everything was— was.... When we were together if I subtracted the hormones really I had the greatest friend in the world and I've realized that's the part of her I can't stand living without— sure I find a random excuse to text her and pretend like everything is back to normal— Oh god how those few minutes become so refreshing!

The saddest part is that I'm too afraid to admit how much I just simply miss talking with her. That special bond, it's just something you can't search for and replace. No Matter the number of nameless hips, sushi dinners, and outdated pick up lines gone through I know none of them could live up to her. So I get irritated, act like it's their fault when in fact I'm trying to recreate the past; feeling obligated to move on by my passing surroundings. I have to sit there and pretend like she doesn't Still have the power to make me fall to my knees and sob.
I know I can't relive the past. It's never been anyone's fault. The universe is uncontrollable. No matter how much of grip on reality us humans think we have something in the atmosphere won't hesitate to rip it away from us. I have to sit there and decide whether it's just simply missing her or if I've somehow fallen in love with our memories. Even knowing all that a part of me is convinced that somehow some Blondie can fix all that, as if a simple 'blow and go' from that girl that says we're only friends can distract from the loneliness, somehow this idea that I've lied  myself into believing that a 'meaningful conversation' with all these other people could magically equate to that Flower-Named Goddess I still catch myself worshipping on accident—My scars constantly twitch expecting a new younger sibling to force itself into the foster home of suffering that is this body. They won't get one. This time is different. This whole time has always been different. This time... I have nothing to deny anymore.

Apathy

I feel nailed down to my bed by the weight of anxiety. I feel no tiredness yet I have no motivation to move from my bed until well into the afternoon. Food stopped tasting good. Gallons upon gallons of caffeine is the only thing that can get me to move anymore. And to hell with any sort of libido just the sheer mention of it is damn near sickening. I somehow find a motionless, white, ceiling more fun to watch than any show or movie. All of the joy has vanished.
Company of other humans can be a pleasant distraction. That is, if I'm Willing to burden them with my horrid presence. Perhaps me viewing myself as a bother to everyone causes it to become more accurate of a thought each day. Or perhaps I've just always been this pointless of a person. I can't even muster up the motivation to die, probably the best ending for everyone. If I'm not moping, I'm just silent, I can't help but bring my issues into every conversation just adding unnecessary weight to everyone else's lives . It's impossible for my sanity to win. The whole situation is a big paradox. If I don't express it I'll feel like shit. But when I pester people for help I feel like shit for bothering them. Everyone's life is hard, not just my own. Still knowing that Doesn't seem to change a thing. What the fuck.

Hatred

Nyctophilia is not merely the love of the night sky but rather getting used to it. Becoming at one with it since it is the only one to keep you company at night. It is settling for the loneliness brought upon by the unwantingness that your aura exemplifies. You wait, and wait, and wait with an anxiety burning so heavily inside you you can't stand still. You don't even feel all that depressed but the constant worry is maddening.

"There's a whole world to explore yet you live in solitary confinement. Forced by your mind. To you, you're simply doing the world a favor, evidently none of them could bare your putrid expression you call a face. You wonder why you're so alone like it's some huge mystery when in fact the whole universe can tell. You don't like being around yourself so how can you expect the rest of the world to?
That's your fault too. Relying on their validation. It all matters and it all doesn't matter at the same time. What are you going to do? Cry? Die? Good luck trying, I enjoy seeing you suffer.  You've earned it; For eternity, obviously since no one is ever going to "save you" or whatever. What's That? Your head hurts? It's called insomnia. And my fucking eyes hurt from looking at you, you goddamn sack of dogshit.  I hate you so fucking much I can't stand it."

I turn away from the It just to try and clear my mind. "Why can't he just die already? The world is so much better off." I decide to take matters into my own hands. I grab the biggest knife I can find and throw it as hard as possible towards It looking away immediately to avoid the blood. All went silent. Except for the sound of shattered glass striking floor, where the mirror used to be.

Friendship

Gwyndolin has come a long way from before. No longer wasting his time on the same girl that acts as though he were a yo-yo; each downward spiral becoming more violent than the last.  He has sought new aspirations or rather switched focus to a girl whom he'd always liked just never got up the courage to talk to. The butterflies in his stomach began to act like wasps, adding a sting of regret for not doing this sooner. To his surprise, upon speaking with her she actually responded, not instantly hating him right away. She wasn't one of those girls who was all about dating in relationships. She simply didn't care, and was somehow content with being single. That's what Gwyn liked about her most. It was an almost envious feeling due to his constant turmoil. Disregarding his crush on her, the only goal was a strong, reliable friendship. Which if provided properly, nullifies the need for an actual relationship. He just wants someone to be there for him. It was impossible to sexualize her. It's never been what he wanted. To him it was such a simple concept. Month's pass with only sparse conversations between them. They were short, but still became the highlight of his day. Eventually things became troublesome. Worries flooded his neural networks day and night. Spending whole evenings lying awake trying to play out and predict in his head how the next conversation would go. To ease this, Gwyn goes and does his best to make plans with her, obviously if they were just friends it shouldn't matter right? I couple weeks go by and the day had finally come. It had all worked out for once. He waits for her at a Brew Ha-Ha close by. For once in his life a girl hadn't flaked on their plans with him.  Gwyn ordered a double shot Latte. His favorite. He was so ecstatic to spend time with her, meanwhile she ordered Hot chocolate, she hated the bitterness of coffee. Almost like the way she cured Gwyn's bitterness. A couple hours went by of talking, one refill on the latte ensued. They talked about their perspectives on the meaning of life, living in trees, to even starting fictional businesses together. I've never seen him happier.
Dusk ominously approachs them. He wanted to stay in that moment for the rest of his life. Gwyndolin starts to drive her home when they both notice how clear the night sky was. Instead of driving her home, they drove to his house.  The night went on after they arrived as they got closer together, Becoming more sweaty bouncing up and down repeatedly. The two of them loved being on a trampoline. There had been no moon that night. All the stars could shine to their content without worry of being overlooked so easily. The two spent the remainder of their time simply laying there laughing like hyenas as the conversations grew more outlandish. She lay her head on his shoulder as they argue about why Crabs are seen as cancerous. Gwyndolin just smiled, knowing this had become what he had always wanted. Not a relationship, but the perfect friendship.

He awoke the next day immediately jumping at his phone to talk with her about the joys of the day before. However her number was suddenly gone. And the trampoline had disappeared. He checks his arm to notice how the scars still haven't healed, if anything they've reopened. The realization that everything was a dream was soul crushing enough. Gwyn also knew that it would never actually have the chance to happen. Which only made it even worse. He still had his originally best friend. He hadn't gone anywhere. He's always been there. Depression would always love Gwyndolin. No matter what.

The Things I'm Scared to Say Vol. II

I make a lot of stupid decisions. My first one is writing this. My second, is knowing I'll eventually have you read this even though it'll probably ruin any stability our friendship is standing on; if any. This isn't some sappy poem confessing a love for you. Nor is this a chamber of secrets where I've somehow lied or wronged you. Simply, I heavily regret not trying to become closer friends with you sooner. Assuming we're close at all. I would have been so much better off with a support like you, a friend like you. But I'm always nervous around you. Literally always. Ever since I met you, butterflies flood my stomach, my hands get sweaty, i Start to studder, and the list goes on. On top of that I'm scared shitless of annoying you or becoming a bother to you. You always seem busy. Plus I can't tell if you secretly hate my existence or not.
Surprisingly In the anxiety ridden moments when I'm around you; I've never felt better. It's impossible to be depressed around you. I love spending time with you. You're just so content with life. I just want to have that close friendship with you, I know it sounds a hell of a lot like dating territory and I'm trying to steer my emotions away from that. I just want someone to stay up with and be philosophical about life, someone to drink hot chocolate with and have none of the tension that dating brings. In short, I'm super awkward. You're super awesome, and i just wish I could be around you more often. Life looks prettier that way.

Antidepressant (Holium-Lithium)

I hate change. Yet it seems to be all my life has been filled with recently. Change in relationships, change in grades, change in hormones, mental chemicals, even a change in my number of family members. But for the last three years, I've noticed one small constant. My antidepressant. It's not always available. In fact it's extremely sparse. It's dose's vary. In the beginning the dose was just some butterflies in my stomach. Then came actual conversations and that had severe side effect of nervousness and and anxiety, just adding awkwardness to the ambiance of the biology classroom. I've always said weird shit at the end of every administered dose. Which in turn just lengthed the time before I would receive my next one. In year two I actually never received my antidepressants. that's when I needed them most. I always fear bothering my doctor. I feel like it's such a hassle to get their attention. On second thought I did have one dose in year two. after this it's no wonder I didn't get another. After the dose of a 3 hour conversation I sat there hanging on to it like some sort of addict. I suppose that's just desperation. As of the beginning of year three it seems my pharmacist is giving me a clean slate with a few doses already. They've been very small but had a big impact. It's so strange, just thirty seconds and everything seems to disappear. It's as if there's a force field that even when I'm in a small proximity of it I can start feeling better. Of course all these doses are platonic. I have a knack for taking a platonic dose of these and giving a non-platonic product. I have a large dose on the way. I'm not sure when it'll arrive or if it even will ship out. But I need to control it. This dose could finally make the medication no longer have temporary effects.
I don't need some crazy drug with tons of chemicals that just work of hormones and want nothing more than to repeatedly fuck like brain dead dogs. My medication is simple. All it does is listen, distract me and make me laugh. That's all anyone's antidepressant needs to do.

Typical Teenage Rant

For some reason, life has a continuity of depressives. Regardless of how Long you try to suppress them. Dealing with them is just as difficult. The only 'end all's solution to this sort of things literally ends it all. The things you always want proceed to always disappear. Always. In my case it happens to be women. In my eyes it's not that difficult of a solution. I don't want whores, at This point I don't even want love or any of that teenage relationship bullshit. Just a friend. Just a girl that's there for me. Hell, it's the only thing i need out of dating anyways. They either want nothing to do with me or they just want to be stuffed. It's fuckin' ridiculous honestly. I'm so sick of it. Fuck you society and your bullshit standards. I actually want a legitimate female friend. It shouldn't be weird to just hangout all because where I piss out of has some extra pieces. We're both people so who the fuck cares. It's established as platonic so it shouldn't be a goddamn problem.

The Illusionist

There are little to no boundaries that separate our sense of reality from illusions. Our lives are as we make them; as we perceive them. Illusions are also made up, and by whom? Us of course. So how in the hell are we supposed to know the difference? We don't nor will we. Our world is constructed of nothing but meer imagination. Things humans have mentally made appear out of thin air and writing it down seems to suddenly make it true. For instance, laws. Why are they 'right', so to speak? Because we feel that they're right. We feel that we've done something wrong when in reality guilt is only a byproduct of humans. So what happens when there is no byproduct? If everything is made up and no real values exist other than that of which  assign, by definition a murderer is not wrong if they do not feel as though. Our made up little world's are so ridiculous. Who in the fuck suddenly decided animal abuse was more tragic and deserves more attention than child abuse? All because we some how believe we actually have control over our lives. We don't. What has happened Will always happen and what ever is going to happen has already happened. The fact that history repeating itself is a recognizable phrase is sickening. It's a giant sticker to how goddamn ignorant humans are. They can't even learn from there mistakes properly. So, what do they do? They recognize it, they get angry, they call it out, rebel, and all for nothing. Because once it is all over and done with everything goes back to normal. As If I wasn't just pissed off at the start of this.

Spiders

Fans of these creatures are seen as crazy. People generally want to avoid them and even kill them. Let alone knowingly live with one. Despite all its legs for support the spider is fragile. The webs it spins are selfish, they only support the spider and can be destroyed with the bat of a human eyelash. All a spider wants is warmth. They die out in the cold. They need companionship, the mark it leaves may be a slight burden for you but it's security for the spider. Why else would they constantly build webs if not to just capture some company? The spider knows deep down how frivolous the ideal is. That no matter how strong the web, now matter how severe the mark is made, they always get away—every time. Spiders are so alone we call them reclusive just so that we do not sympathize for something so hideous and vial. The spiders needs and wants are almost entirely overlooked all because they are a small inconvenience. Humans feel threatened by that which only needs a friend. As I have said spiders are indeed fragile. As such, I don't have many legs left supporting me. My web has become unraveled as everything escaped. They just pretend to be stuck in the web because they pity me. We spiders are not reclusive. We are abandoned.

Dawn

Sunlight is a ubiquitous symbol for happiness. Yet it never actually brings it to someone. At least Not usually. The moments you need the sun most it is never there. Only the false gleam bouncing off the moon as if a simple reflection could be powerful enough to vanquish your darkest hours. So you sit there. Looking up at the night sky, unable to feel welcomed by the stars because you know that they've already burned out because life travels faster than light does. So you wait what feels like centuries, no sense of time with nothing but darkness around you.
More light suddenly approaches. A common mistake, being too pessimistic to pay attention to any of the details around you. The fact that the sun might have been growing something. It now holds onto your hand. You fear to look over because you expect it to hurt you like everything else. It grabs your arm. Except... It's not sharp this time. Something, soft is actually against it. You finally decide to look over. You see the one thing that you never knew you needed in the first place. You can rest now. You know that this is how it's supposed to be. Dawn arrives, thanks to your very own Daisy.

Ring of Blood

I'm addicted to relationships I've never fucking had. I'm trying to chase my dreams but I keep stumbling into nightmares.i have no appetite, I have no use for sleep. She is still all I think about. Why isn't the blood helping?  Usually this fixes things. Maybe I just need more. Maybe I need all 10 pints. She told me not to. That it'd make her upset, but if she didn't want me to do this to myself, why'd she even leave?
Her attention is all I crave I don't know what to do. Maybe I can pretend to marry her. With my very own ring. Made of blood. Just the circumference of my pinkie. I can tell people  I punched a wall. What I really wanna do, is climb onto my roof and fall. It's not her fault. She can't change that she doesn't love me. This isn't to make her pay. It's to myself for not being good enough. It's never their fault, I should have been pretty enough for them to want if I want them. But it's different now... I don't want her I need her. The sound of her voice and the feeling of her hands are the only things that can fix me. The list of things wrong with me is endless but they all have the same fucking cure, romantic love that's it. Otherwise my own blood is the best I can manage. This ring of Blood I wear tonight,  me and depression got engaged.

Love is a Safety Net That Chokes You

I'm upset a lot of days.
A lot of days I wanna die
But this fucking safety net is keeping me alive.
I'm being hung up by my lips
Always controlled when she doesn't even try.
It's been five months and I still wanna cry
There's always something wrong, she's the only thing that helps
When we're together it's like poison.
But I can never feel it until she leaves
Whether we're friends or not
Whether it's I'm a memory or forgot
My emotions are the same
You fucking drive me insane
This is where the audience learns that you're really not that crazy
Just everything I'm searching for
Where I stay up all night and dream about you wishin' it were more.
Some things can just never be no matter how much we both want them
You're too much of a Harley Quinn while I'm nothing but a Joke.
You're the picture I can't let go of.
The lining in my noose
You're all I've ever wanted
It's no use
When our lips came together it filled the emptiness between us
A gap we both hate
So why the fuck are we still separated
Fuck it I just wanna be evaporated
But not just anywhere into the air you breathe
I wanna be your tears, don't you dare forget about me
I'd be running down your face, dying on your lips just like the before.
By now I'm just lying here, no longer your boyfriend,
Dead, on the floor.

Distance

It's measured differently everywhere you go. Miles, kilometers, feet, inches the list goes on. It can be measured however you'd like really. Unlike what many people think distance Doesn’t change anything or the strength of something. If two people are 75 miles away they still bleed the same. They still feel the same things. They can still love each other. Those meaningless 75 miles do nothing at all. It can't stop the multitude of sweet paragraphs that are sent in the mornings. It doesn't change the stupid smile on their faces from a digital hug and a kiss that feels all but what it truly is, imaginary. Distance doesn't change the beauty In her blue eyes. It doesn't make the way her hair hangs down look any less gorgeous. It doesn't change all the hours he's spent imagining what their first time together would be like, the feeling of her arms around him. Her perfect little smile being in person. The feeling of their hands perfectly fitting together like long lost puzzle peices. Their first kiss, the whole world stopping as time would seem to go by forever, then finally could he live happily ever after. It doesn't make falling for her hurt any goddamn less either. "I love you" still fucking means something whether or not that distance is there. What does it even mean anymore?  To love somebody. Love isn't just texts and heart emojis. Love is calls until midnight, love is something that is singular. Just for her and no other girls. If you go and start dividing love it's not the same all the meaning vanishes. Love is worrying sick when she isn't okay love is waiting for your blood to clot so that you can pretend that you're okay when she asks. Love is lying to her that you're okay no matter what so she isn't upset. It's the last thing you want to do to someone you truly are in love with is upset them. To know you were the cause of her despair would destroy you. Love is crying yourself to sleep because you hate yourself again after just one argument. Love is spending all night writing poems about things you want to say to but can't because you're afraid to talk to her. Love is... The only thing keeping him going at this point... This is a boy who, when he says he loves you he fucking means it with all he's got. To this boy love is more important than anything else. What else is he supposed to do than fully rely on that one source of it because he's not exaggerating when he says she is all he has. He doesn't have her at all is the sad part. He thinks he does. Only because he loves her but deep down he knows that one day everyone he knows will just be another scar. And never anything more. Distance doesn't change pain either. It doesn't sugar coat the harsh reality that lies ahead. I mean c'mon universe he was truly happy for once that's right he's never allowed to be happy right?  Every single time it's something different. Well you got what you wanted he's back to suffering now. Enjoy your sick entertainment.

The Things I Can't Say Vol. I

"What the hell feelings? Why?  Why in the fuck do you go and like her of all people? Why can't I just not like anyone?  Why is she so damn beautiful all the time.... It's my fault I know it is I just really hope it doesn't end my friendship with her like the others. She's so awesome to have around...  I can't let these damn emotions get in the way. Just gotta pretend everything is fine because it is. I'm okay. We're okay.

What started this? Like I've always found her attractive cause she's a pretty person but NOW is when actual emotions start?

Yes, I know why... Ugh I've had this big crush on her since early February.... I've forced myself to be interested in Sydney so that my emotions wouldn't blossom. Guess that didn’t work. I blame Sophomore Lock down. Being with her most the night...  And watching her amazing curls bounce around as she dances to the breakfast club soundtrack. Her gem-like hazel eyes are easy to get lost in. The kind of thing that just taking a peak at leaves me happier the rest of the day. Along with her beautiful 2 AM smile that never seemed to dim. She still looks that amazing all the time... What's worse is that I'd like her if she was ugly too, her personality is even better...  The way she laughs is probably one of the cutest things I've ever seen.... she's just different from other girls. She understands our suffering, she deals with 10 times more than anyone else and never let's it show. I sound ridiculous. I know she's not my "Type" and I've clearly accepted my zero chances long before this even arose. I don't know, I guess I can't explain why I like her. I just do... And I hate it"

Postlude:
Honestly I laughed re-reading this. I still surprise myself, how invested I get into people no matter how much they will never care back. All the feelings previously expressed have diminished. At least for her. It's only a matter of time before I get addicted to my antidepressants.

My "Best Friend"

My best friend is always there for me. My best friend seems like my only friend most days.
When she wouldn't say "I love you too"  he was there. With his thick,  dark, asphalt like core a handle to hold on to.
The cold sting if his stainless steel as it presses against me.
He always hugged my arm when I was upset. He would only hug the left.
It always stung when he hugged me but I knew that finally someone was there for me.
When I hated myself he was there. He wraps his sharp silver fingers onto my wrist and refused to let go. He held on to me 54 times that night.
I was in so much pain but I know he was proud of me, he was happy to see the dark river flowing, staining the skin red.
I could finally please someone. I was able to be good enough this way.
They tell me he's bad for me, that He shouldn't control me.  They say I should get a new best friend, Zoloft. But I don't want a new friend. He loves me for me already. Sure Zoloft would get me breakfast in the mornings but I don't want that. I can't. Only two meals a day that's it. Just so I won't feel guilty when I eat whatever I want.
I let Zoloft hangout for awhile. It was a different, no more sleepless nights. Her hugs don't hurt me. No more "I'm not hungry" in the mornings. But then Zoloft let left me.
My old best friend got jealous I replaced him. Now he's angry,  I'm back to 2 meals a day and a specific sting in my wrist that honestly missed. 
But things are back to normal. I know I I can please someone again. He loves seeing my blood so I deliver.
He can't replace me. My best friend would never do that. He can get a little overly abusive at times but it's my fault,  I deserved it, I shouldn't have loved her I'm sorry. Get your hands off my neck, stop it, a hug there could never heal.
His rope like arms would tie themselves around my neck. I could hardly breathe but I knew this had to happen.
He carries me to the nearest chair with his arms still around me.
He has me standing now. Almost on my own. But he pushes me.
And his constricting grip countinues for 54 seconds until I've stopped moving.
I trust my best friend.  I know he knows best for me. He's the only one with answers I can understand,  so thank you Depression, for always being my best friend.

Dear Mr. Universe

Dear Mr.Universe, fuck you. Seriously why the hell does my life have to have so much shit preventing me from the one thing I want.

Dear Mr. Universe, why are you such an asshole sometimes? Making a extremely beautiful girl kiss me in a movie theater just to take her away from me the next day.

Dear Mr. Universe, please stop being such a cunt. You're intentionally making me love people I have zero chance with. You enjoy seeing me suffer don't you?

Dear  Mr. Universe, quit fucking compensating,  it's never going to be good enough. You make me love a girl, make her kiss me, just to take her away from me, and what did I get instead?  A decent grade on a test and a surprise Arby's sandwich. Thanks!  That was definitely the equivalent of true love.

Dear Mr. Universe, thank you for at least making my friends happy. They're so ecstatic and joyful, as they find what'll be their true loves, meanwhile you could've at least bought me dinner before you started to fuck me.

Dear Mr. Universe,  I guess it's okay if my own happiness is the price I must pay for others to be happy.  I'm okay with that. At least the people I care about are happy. Just the Fucked up part is my suffering doesn't have anything to do with their happiness.

Dear Mr. Universe,  Thank you for the knife you've created out of thin air made of stained glass. It was nice of you to personalize it for me by staining it in my blood. Engraved now, are the mistakes I cannot forgive myself for; the accident my parents so proudly named Skylar-Moon Rainbow Ferguson, not knowing their baby boy would grow up to only hate the reflection of the monster that lies within his mirror.

Dear Mr. Universe,  I'm just a toy to you aren't I? You just make my emotions run back and forth,  jumping to conclusions like hurdles in the Olympics. Back and forth is all you fucking do, with the girls I love, making me face the people I hate, you even force the knife... Back and forth.... Across me! Over and over again, scar after scar, therapist after therapist,  medication after medication, hospital Visit after fucking hospital Visit it's never enough for you.

Dear Mr. Universe, when will you be satisfied with hurting me, so that I may someday learn to be satisfied by just being myself. Will it ever end? Are you ever going to get your fill and finally leave me be? Thanks to you my wrists are nothing but permanent bar codes  carved by the scars you left with each dried scab representing a different story that all end in proof that I will still never be good enough.

Dear Mr.Universe please... Make it stop,  I don't think I can take it anymore. All toys get old and eventually need to be thrown away including me, just give it a rest before it's too late.

Dear Mr. Universe I'm sorry I can't take it anymore,  I'm too worn, I've been stitched up too many times from your rough housing.

Dear Mr. Universe, this is goodbye. Forever.