You talk on the phone too much anyway.

Slow down enough to see that you've nearly destroyed
everything around you.
The way you try to intimidate what you don't understand and can't control.
Reflecting the angry monster that you grew up with.
Are you proud?
Because I'm done.
Cowering at the sound of your voice, your echoing footsteps.
It's a little bit old now, and I'm not as scared as I used to be.

I hope you dance.

I danced for an entire weekend.
And for some particular reason,
I don't care that I was alone for a few songs.
I've forgotten about the people who watched and whispered.
And the ones who walked away.
I still don't know what love means,
But I'm a little closer to being Okay.

Hold you like the sun holds the moon,

The airy trail of smoke drifting up from her cigarette
so light and magical, I almost forgot it was killing her.

It's cold in New York...

Step on the gas as the car lurches forward, underneath me
I hope we crash, I hope we crash.
Imagining the metal crushed into my body.
A Cold, fast, adrenaline disaster.

Whatever it takes to wake you up.

Burn down the ghost towns.

I am growing stale and hopeless.
Sitting here just makes it worse.
Scream out of the cave of this cold corner of house.
Drag my feet like wrecking balls scraping the hard wood floors.
Clawing the precious furniture to shreds.
Shattering the pretty lights into a million lost pieces.
Light a match and let it all go.
We never needed any of this to begin with.

You look a mess,

You might as well lock me in a cell.
My feet trace the same path through the same hallways day after day.
My mind follows the pattern of remaining still, present but unspoken for.
I was not meant to live in a meaningless routine.
Living from weekend to weekend just isn't enough anymore.
When all my time is taken from me.
What do I like to do??
I've never had a choice before.
Go ahead, They'll never know
what I would have been capable of.

You don't know the half of it.

Concerts.
It's not as simple as I know it should be.
Dances. Dates. Saturday nights. Parties.
Alone.

I don't miss you, I just feel like I am missing something. I am missing.

"And even if somebody else has it much worse, that really doesn't change the fact that you have what you have. Good or bad."

Like my time is never really mine.
Sleep is my only excuse
But it's never enough.
There's too much that I want.
Anxiety pulls harder with every
message on the phone.
Stretched so thin, I am a translucent
memory of what I used to dream about.
Yanking, Dragging, and Attempting
to confine me to limits that don't exist.
And I have no clue where my life went.
All I know is that it's friday night, and no one understands
that I am trapped.


"I don’t know if you’ve ever felt like that. That you wanted to sleep for a thousand years. Or just not exist. Or just not be aware that you do exist. Or something like that. I think wanting that is very morbid, but I want it when I get like this. That’s why I’m trying not to think. I just want it all to stop spinning."

Familliar

Bonfires and carnivals that I didnt go to.
Stupid math homework and Burnt cinnamon buns.
Akward pasts crawling from their places in my memory.
I like when you ask me how my day was.
Even if I have nothing to say.

5/1/10

When you start to go out without your make-up on.
When you start staying in every saturday night.
When you start laying in bed all day.
That's when I'll worry.
But now, I know that sometimes you feel nothing.
And your thoughts are growing deeper and deeper into a place only you can find.
The hopelessness you have not yet named.
And I know why.
I've heard those screams before. Silent bedroom doors open a crack.
Short monotone answering machine voices. "conversation"
And most of all, I know that telling you I know will not help.
But showing you could change everything before you ever reach the bottom.