You could be happy

Posted May 20th | 1 notes | Reblog | Like

I am gotten-up-one-too-many-times,
the epitome of no-one-loves-me, listening
to lectures about independence, trying to
find solace in nobody, learning the art of
pushing everyone away until I have no one,
you taught me that is how it is supposed to be.

Every other sentence you spit out is about
how much I’m going to miss you when you
are gone, but you never once taught me
how to miss anyone and I don’t know how
to hold onto anything other than bed sheets
in the middle of the night, clinging to
material things that don’t mean a thing
to so many, but symbolize a home to me.

I am lost and I am lonely, soaring through
galaxies of different places but never
knowing what a home is, snuggling inside
of yellow pills and doctor’s offices that
were never cozy, continuing searching
through school books and public bathrooms
where I’d tense my fingers and take pills
to sleep— I am wrecked and I am weary.

If you think of how much time you’ve spent
waiting as a waste, I could declare my life
in its entirety a waste of time and space,
because waiting for things to change is
worse than waiting for traffic to budge or
lines in the supermarket to hurry when
there is only one girl on register and changing
your life is not as easy as wanting it when
your parents are what is holding you back.

And I don’t know if there is a way to
unlearn that I am nothing but insignificant.

Posted May 20th | 23 notes | Reblog | Like

"Writing is a lonely job. Having someone who believes in you makes a lot of difference. They don’t have to make speeches. Just believing is usually enough."

Posted May 19th | 2329 notes | Reblog | Like

If you think about how many people
continuously judge you on your past mistakes,
you could sail oceans on their tears.
But if we judge flowers on their thorns,
no one would ever choose roses.

Posted May 18th | 22 notes | Reblog | Like

I don’t want to be me

I want to be the girl who takes your order
at a fast food chain and asks you what
you would like three times but laughs
at her own forgetful mistake,

I want to be the girl who dyes her hair red
and everyone thinks she is unique, who
cries only when boys break her heart and
has never heard of breaking her own,

I want to be the boy who spends all of
his money on concert tickets and has
a rising total of 67 people he’s slept with,
who goes to bed with a smile on his face
despite judgment because he knows he is
a part of something, he knows he is wanted,

I want to be the girls who never wash
their hair, but are still more beautiful
than most things I’ve seen, they spend
their time in solitude with grasslands and
guitars and never seem to complain,

I want to be the high school valedictorian
that turns into the boy who makes Dean’s List
every semester in his high-end college
and knows exactly where he is going—

because I am the one who tries to laugh
when crying and just ends up drowning,
I am a secondhand store of the used, broken,
unhelpable, and unwanted, I am the person
who steps as close as they can to a cliff just
to relearn the fear of dying, I have enough
doubt in me to fill the seven seas and there
is no path that could possibly help me,
I don’t want to be me.

Posted May 17th | 34 notes | Reblog | Like

My own words claw at my eardrums
like music on a volume high enough
to make your skin retract,

your words are even worse,

drowning in bad memories that could
have been swallowed whole if only

we had space to put them, but instead
we spit them out between our teeth

and opening up feels like scars
ripping open inside of my chest

and oozing out uncertainty
(why should we do things that hurt?)

I am tired of perennial memories;
give me annuals, I no longer have the
capacity to recycle them in my brain

and the more you think of skeletons

in your closet, the faster until only

a skeleton of yourself remains

Posted May 17th | 9 notes | Reblog | Like

You always want to leave until you are so far gone you can no longer remember what it felt like to be a part of anything, and don’t ask me why I start wanting things I never even liked before I lost them and why I can’t let go of anything that is holding me back. Missing is part of moving on, right? I wait to be reassured by some kind of higher power, but I always end up alone. The more I hate it, the more I want it. The more I hate it, the more I want to change it. I take it as a challenge, an I-can-do-this in a world of you-can’ts. I thought that mindset only reigned true with people I wanted to hold onto, but once I moved on from that phase, I did everything I could to love the place I was— even if I didn’t— and I convinced myself that location has no affect on mindset. I was kidding myself.

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Posted May 15th | 16 notes | Reblog | Like

I’m pasting flower pedals on the
stem that has become bare, I want
to show myself how I’m supposed
to look in the summer, maybe then
I can learn to grow.

I grew up always wanting more than I got:
a nice house and a Gameboy was never
enough, I wanted to stop waking up to
yelling and falling asleep to belts.

I don’t want to be mediocre. I want to be
extraordinary. I have the potential to fill
myself with galaxies, but I don’t know
how much more I can fill myself up
like a balloon before I burst.

You could have, should have, would
have done better if this was another
time, another life, another you—
learn to love your sanity and
stop thinking before you lose it.

Posted May 14th | 15 notes | Reblog | Like

i. Loving people does not make you weak
unless you choose to love everyone only
because you are scared to love a few
too deeply. Love is not about quantity.

ii. Kisses don’t count if they are meaningless
and past loves cannot be properly erased,
but you can glue their pages of your story
together so they can no longer be read.
Pretending they didn’t exist is not bad.

iii. You are not awful for leaving when
love turned into something other than love
or for falling out of it. Don’t feel guilty for
giving love another chance. You are brave.

iv. It is okay to be scared to lose people
and it is okay to feel hopeless when you do.
But it is not your fault, baby girl, and
you are nothing to be ashamed of.

v. People may not be around forever,
that’s true, but do not be too afraid to show
them who you are while you have the chance.
You will regret the words you did not say more
than you regretted crying alone in your bedroom
when you had somebody, because you were
too afraid to tell them what you were feeling.

Posted May 14th | 40 notes | Reblog | Like