Or

I bet that another episode or a couple more bites or one more click to refresh or just a few minutes
or perhaps another not-so-subtle plea for conversation will convince me that I do not feel hopelessly alone.

Makes the Heart

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.
Loneliness makes the heart grow colder.

Energy, Energy

Introverts are supposed to get their energy from being by themselves, right?
Well then damn, shut down the power plants.

Here I am.

Dreams

I took the posters down last night.

The pang of nostalgia was replaced by the sting of lost and forgotten dreams.

Only I haven't forgotten.
The dreams are doing everything they can to burst into motion.
All I want is for them to surface, even if reality proves too strong for their existence.

So why do I fight?

Crept

The voice crept through the walls and fueled the spark of doubt that would later consume its host.

An Artist's Heart

Someone once told me that for an artist to capture the beauty of the world, they must first be exposed to the deepest of pains.

To transport one to another place, they have to first experience the deepest and darkest of its secrets.

An artist experiences levels of the world that others simply cannot imagine, much less describe.

For that reason, I find myself swept away by what others may pass with a grain of salt.
Those simple folk criticize the nightmares of my walk.

To them, I apologize.

I apologize because they cannot even begin to comprehend the contrast available to me.
For while the hellish prison holds stronger, the eventual freedom proves sweeter.

I live with a heightened sense of awareness to the seemingly trivial passings of life.
I live with the gift of experiencing pain in order to rejoice in the power of healing.

An artist bears more than they should carry, but they reap more than they knew was capable of being sown.

So thank you to those that hurt, that stole, or that passed by me. Whether you knew it or not, you gave me another color to paint with.

And I intend to use them all.

Disgust

It seems unfair that the sight of you

-which used to fill me with hope and excitement-

 now consumes my thoughts with disappointment and my heart with disgust.


If only you noticed.

Kneel and Pray

Why do I always do the talking?

Rather then let silence reign in order to make you think, I fill in the lines and cover up your wrongdoings. Instead of letting you stand on your own to feet, I make myself the bad guy.

You hurt me.

Yet I am the one apologizing.

I am afraid of what may come if I truly stand up for myself, so I kneel and pray that I'm not too tall.

Here I am.

I despise what you can do to me.

You leave me defeated, overwhelmed, and uninspired.
I end up feeling alone, worthless, and unwanted.

Silently, I vow to leave you behind.
I promise to take better care of myself.


Then I see you.


And suddenly you are back in.
I convince myself that things will be different.
You will be different.

Yet here I am.

To Clutch to the Past or to Move On?

I loved you.

Not romantically, mind you.
But I did love you.

But perhaps love is too strong a word.

Love is two sided.

It requires a sacrifice of self for another, and the reciprocation from that person.
It gives and takes as it must.
It actively finds ways to grow and manifest itself boldly.

I shouldn't have cared for you.
We should have cared for each other.

I shouldn't have tried so hard.
We should have been a team.

I shouldn't still be grasping at fragments of the past.
We should be laughing together.

Second chances are necessary.
But you've had about a hundred too many of them.

and you, I

You've been told one only wants something after they've been told they can't have it because we, as people, are selfish.

While a shade of that may hold truth, the reality is that being told I can't have you- and you,  I- gave clarity not to what I wanted, but what, as far as I am capable of understanding, will forever need.

Fate loves her games.

The Second After

The moment I feel most alone is the second after the laughter ceases.

The sharp inhale to steady one's breath.

The pause to compose oneself and their actions.

For in that moment, the satisfaction flees to make room for doubt.

Spectrum

I can finally look in you in the eye.

But now all I want is to spit in your face.

Affirmation

Don't tell me that I am needed.

I know.

Tell me I am wanted.

I forget too easily.

It's Me

It's not you.

It's me.

That's who I am taking care of.
That's who finally deserves to be happy.

Strangled

Being strangled by your rope for so long has led me to believe

- in my newly found freedom -

that numbing myself to avoid the potential of pain is

somehow more desirable than experiencing the thrill of chance.

Mute.

The scream in your chest mattered little to me when my ears were filled with the sound of my thoughts.

Holding on to Passing Time

Realizing that you are not the best thing for me was easy. My bones have known it for quite some time.

Giving my mind the time to accept it? Now that is another story.

The Battle for Truth

The voices in your head don't deserve the hold they have on you.

Not Anymore.

When You means I

To all the people that have ever doubted their value:

You are significant.

You probably don't believe me. That's fine. For now, it is enough for it just to be true.

You are loved.

You might not feel it. You might not always see it. That doesn't mean it isn't there.

You are beautiful.

I don't care what, why, or how You are who You are. Beauty surrounds You and cloaks everything You do.

You have purpose.

You won't always know what it is. In fact, You might not realize what it was until long after the fact.

You deserve happiness.

No matter the lies you have been told or that you tell yourself, it is true.

You have value even when you can't, don't want to, or refuse to see it.

Yes, I am talking You. Significant, loved, beautiful, purpose-filled, and soon-to-be-happy, You. 

For Once

For Once,

I am not going to pretend that this was my fault.
It wasn't in my head.
I didn't make this pain up.

It was you.

Sure, I helped.
Sure, I contributed.
Sure, some of it may have been in my head.

But the fact of the matter is that regardless of my disposition to dramatize the smallest of life's unpleasantries and my tendency to dwell on the worst,

You let me down.

I shouldn't have to pretend that you didn't.

So I won't.

Second Glance

The blood flowed as pure as the words from your lips.

Lopsided Hearts

Everyday you would take out that old blue pen with the chewed cap
and draw a lopsided heart on the back of my hand.

You would smile and crinkle your nose as our eyes met.

Now all that remains is the ink trapped in the bottom of my drain.