i think maybe you'll always be someone
who takes up a small amount of space
in my heart. sometimes i feel like i cannot control how
often i think of you - it's like a bad habit i turn to when i remember
that we happened once. and so i go looking
at pictures of us so i can prove to myself how happy
we were. even though we weren't happy,
but if you look at a picture of two smiling people
long enough you can convince yourself
otherwise.
you won't talk to me now, we haven't spoken
for six months. i've tried reaching out but you never
respond. i can't say i blame you, but i think it's just really tragic
that you can have such a strong connection with someone
and grow to care for them so much in such a short
amount of time - and when you don't give them what they want
from you, they all of a sudden will never
talk to you again. and they don't give you any
warning. i can't say i miss you, but i suppose i miss
the way i could make you laugh or the way we talked about
real things. maybe the silence between us just makes
me lonely.
i hope you're happier than when i talked to you
last.

and so we meet again, raven soul,
before i entered the catacomb i was standing at the
edge
peering at the depths beneath it
when sudden ebony clouds floated over me
and attached a hook
into both of my shoulder blades carrying me
beyond the edge i was standing on,
higher than the summit of where
you once sung a song about the idea of being
happy. all of this was done
in silence for the noise resided
on the inside of my skull wanting to escape
but i could not
speak.
then there you were - with your raven hair covering
half of your face,
snakes
dripping down your eyelids, your tears were the colour
of a mermaids tail in lake water and you told me
without telling me
that this would be the last time
that it's over now
that i should be smiling because most people
don't know when
enough is enough and so they keep going
but everything stopped and so
i knew then it was time.
what i did not know was how long
you would keep me there - suspended in the sky
untangling the knots in your tears,
being swallowed by something intangible
that was promising eternal
wholeness.

what were you expecting,
for me to put on some grand production of hysteria
to display the hurt that you have caused me
for some meaningless pity party?
yes you have succeeded in breaking my heart,
congratulations.
did you think i wasn’t expecting this?
to love means to hurt, there is no way around it
i accepted this fate a long time ago
because i was made to love,
and will therefore hurt, i don’t expect anything otherwise.
i’m not a ******* fragile doll that is going to crumble
over some stupid boy who is too much of a coward
to grow and receive the love i have to give.
i am worth more than that.
why did you keep looking at me as though i was about to fall apart?
why did you keep asking me if i wanted to break, smash anything?
i have always been numb before feeling anything,
it’s the only way i know how to survive the intensity of my own emotions.
you don’t deserve to wipe the tears from my cheeks anyway.
my sadness is no longer your business, it probably never was.
why did you hesitate so long when i asked you if you love me?
are you really going to let your fears prevent you from being loved?
you’re lucky, too lucky
and in the end, you probably don’t deserve me
but i don’t care. i loved you then, i love you now, i will love you always
i’m too loyal, too strong
for my own good.
but i don’t regret any of it.
there is no point in regretting love anyway,
there never is.
so yes, you broke my heart, congratulations.
worse things have happened.
it doesn’t mean i’m going to tear myself apart over this.
i’m worth more than that.
if and when you come around wanting me back,
i’m going to make it pretty **** clear that i have no intention
to **** around and play with my heart because
those days are over.
if i am going to have you, i want all of you.
because that’s how i love, and how i expect to be loved in return.
anything less would be emotional suicide.
i’m okay with loneliness,
i’m okay without you.
if that is how it has to be, then so be it.
so stop asking me if i’m okay,
i was okay before you and i will be okay after you
i am not as breakable as i may seem,
so good luck with your quest to find yourself.
maybe you’ll never come to the simple realization
that “finding yourself” is a lifelong process,
not something that comes compact in a box labeled
“fulfillment/purpose: open for answers” written on it in
permanent marker.

I never thought I
would say this but happiness
suits you, yes, it does.

Wherever you’re at right now in life is totally okay and right where you’re meant to be. Don’t let your mind try and make you feel ashamed for not being more “successful” or more “friendly” or more “independent” or more “happy” or more of anything.
You are growing and loving and crying and feeling and it is going to be hard and it is going to be painful but it’s also going to be beautiful and worth it too. You’re going to unintentionally help people by taking care of yourself. Because you’re making the choice to live and it’s the best thing you’ve ever tried to do.
Keep trying.
You are where you are meant to be right now and that is the truth and that is okay.

i can't say i wasn't warned
in high school when teachers told me
that the world would soon chew me up and spit
me out and have
its way with me
i can't say i am surprised
that the friends i had then have since
vanished
one by one by one by one

i have since been chewed up and spit out by the world
but i have also treated it like a bone
always trying to catch up with it, always
watching always
observing always
trying to call it mine
other people seem to have an easier time
at making new friends
they go to shows or bars or school
and that's how they meet
new people
i don't go to shows or bars or school
so i don't really meet
any people

and i am content with that.
people don't understand it, i mean,
what's a life without something put
before it?
love-life
social-life
career-life
night-life
what ever happened to just
life?

i don't have room to put anything before it.
i don't have room for more people in it.
i don't have the patience to explain this to people.
i don't have the patience to meet new people.

and people always say
not to cling too tightly to the things you're afraid to lose
because then the chances of losing them
are higher
but clinging to the people i have
has saved me in a lot of ways
and perhaps i'm set
in those ways but the truth is,
i am one lucky *****
and i'm not about to let go of the love
i've been given
for anything.

“I like your shoes.” The barista said.

“My shoes?” I said, taken aback by the strange compliment. I was standing at the till, waiting to pay for my drink. There was no way he could see my shoes unless he had seen me waiting in line moments earlier.

“Yes, the way they come to a point. It’s exciting.”

“Oh, thank you…?” I said, punching in my pin.

“How do you feel about receipts?” He asked.

“Oh, no that’s fine. I don’t need it.” I smiled.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to have them.” He looked me straight in the eyes.

I felt puzzled, as I walked away. I wondered what he meant.

I warned him, before we stepped into inferno, I warned him
I said, please
Bear with me
He said we have our wine, we'll be fine
And I looked away and forced a small half-laugh because
He didn't know how much familiarity
One statement could hold.

Fast forward and I'm sitting on your piano bench
Playing your out of tune piano
You put your head on my shoulder
And cried as I sang
Songs I mutilated from
The mould you made for me
So long ago.

Then time passed and the more belligerent  you became
The more sad I got so I stopped
Playing for you and sat at the kitchen table while you
Poured yourself more red wine and kept crying

That's when he asked if we needed time alone,
"To talk", as he worded it so
He left me alone in inferno with you
And you said nothing except
You don't understand you don't understand, you'll never
Understand but
I love you, please stay.

Then he came back and offered you a morsel
Of compassion, which you so indifferently accepted you said
I watched my mother die
I watched my brother die
I watched my father die
And I'm ******* done.

I sat there silently laughing because here I was, all this time
Trying my very hardest to die and it occurred to me
You haven't noticed and
You probably never will until
I am finally actually gone.

perhaps it’s the fear of being loved
or the fear of being left
that has been gnawing on my heart lately,
a cruel reminder of what it means
to be truly alone.
you’re here
and then you’re not.
i am afraid of being the thing of lesser importance.
i am afraid of the past repeating itself
but that in itself may be
a red flag.
for it is only I and I alone
that can prevent that from happening.
by choosing not to crumble at the slightest scent
of abandonment.
by savouring the sweetness of sleeping beside you,
until morning comes to kiss us with lips
scarred with inevitable parting.
perhaps it’s the fear of being loved
or the fear of being left
that has been gnawing on my limbs lately,
making it impossible to take a small step
on the days where the sun decides to resist the day.
i have no reasons to give you,
only a word coupled with a wide-eyed stare.
i feel too much and yet i feel nothing
at all.
sleep walking on a cloudless sky, trying to pin down
a distant bird, the root
of its incessant call.

sitting before the curtain of my heart,
i feel the ripples of what some might call fear
for what is about to unveil.
behind me sits an audience that can only  be described
as a sea of songs long since embedded in my brain,
waves of past lovers and lies and the
silhouette of a solitary sickness.
then suddenly, the lights go dim
and i am overcome by the previews
of the present moment.
caught between the sea behind me
and the curtain in front of me,
is all that i am
all that i love
and all that i have yet
to be.

Of reopening the same wound

Again and again until

It bleeds enough to satisfy my

Hungry heart in other words,

Never satisfied that’s why I’m a big fan of

Reopening the same wound

Again and again until

You’ll sit with me in sun and see me as I am

Yours as I always was until

I am enough for you to accept

As your own flesh and blood

I keep coming back because

I’m a big fan

Of not giving up

On you

"i miss you"
has become a secret mantra
i live it out
in silence, with
a smile as a defence.

saying it out loud
to you, to anyone
would be a crime
for there are some dark places
one simply cannot revisit.

it's not that i hate this city and want to divorce myself from everyone i know here.
it's not that i won't miss the little things about being here that make it
too easy to stay,
it's just that i think it's wrong for someone to never leave the place they were born
for more than a week
it's just that i don't want to die anymore and i'm learning how to be
more adventurous
it's about taking risks, and not letting the potential for failure prevent me
from making my dreams come true.
it's about believing in the crazy things that seem impossible and ridiculous
to other people when you tell them about your plans
it's about being simultaneously terrified and relieved that you get
a second chance at life
it's about giving everything up for four months to be immersed
in a completely different world
it's about knowing that it's not always going to be sunshine and rainbows,
but not letting that stop you.
it's about not being able to take another long cold winter here
because being numb has gotten old and too-familiar.
it's about missing someone more than you can ever explain.
it's about having a long-distance friendship but not letting that
keep you apart.
it's about choosing life,
it's about getting out of my comfort zone
it's about being
undefinable
it's about having people say, "well what about after? what are you going to do after this?"
and being okay
with not knowing.

when an unrequited love suddenly steps into your life,
do not panic.
do not try and win him over.
do not create scenarios in your head of a pixel perfect dreamland
where you two can live happily ever after together.
do not waste your time looking at pictures of him and his girlfriend
on Facebook just to fuel your lack of confidence and confusion.
do not tell him you write poems about him.
realize that even if you do tell him, he will not ask to read them.
do not hang out with him and have ulterior motives.
do not stare at his arms, at his hands, do not look
at the strand of hair that falls ever so delicately over his chiseled face.
do not think about pushing it back.
do not make eye contact for too long, even if he’s the one
who started it.
realize that there is an entire language when it comes to two
people looking at each other straight in the eyes,
but it doesn’t always mean they are speaking the same one.
do not bring him up in conversations.
this is not a topic for small talk.
this is a topic for writing sappy poems and sad songs.
this is a love that no amount of discussion or advice will
be able to comfort or protect you from.
when you go to his apartment to hang out and play music,
pretend not to notice his girlfriend’s things.
her bobby pins on the bathroom counter.
her underwear hanging out to dry.
her tampons underneath the sink.
photo-booth pictures of the two of them up on
the refrigerator. you don’t see it. you don’t.
do not wonder what he’s told her about you.
keep your questions about her limited.
when he compliments you on the dress you are wearing,
say “thank you” and walk away. do not let that be
the reason why you are suddenly smiling and speechless.
know that there is no cure for this.
know that this is an open wound that will probably never heal
unless you cut him out altogether.
do not confuse bravery with selfishness.
see the simplicity of loving without being loved in return,
feel the pain of how hard this is to accept.
do not use this as an excuse to be empty again.
and when you feel like screaming into a pillow and tearing out
strands of your hair in an unequivocal rage wondering
“What do I do with all of this love then??”
Create a thumbtack out of your frustration, poke a hole in your vein
and feed all of that love to yourself until you no longer
feel the need to think about him
anymore.
that, is bravery.

and i wonder if you keep the image
of my face tucked away in a tiny hiding place
where you don't always have to see it
but find endless comfort in knowing it's there,
like the picture i keep of my mother when she was nineteen
in my wallet only having to look at it
when i ride the bus or purchase something
necessary or to show to people just so i can say
"look! wasn't she pretty! do i look like her?"
without hearing their response
because the answers are all
in the questions

and i wonder if your hands find themselves
writing tiny letters in your diary
letters that are born of the outline of our
memories
like the way my hands so often do
and i wonder if you have a reserved sign
sitting on a table in your heart for me
just like i do
for you

i’ve gotten so used to thinking i don’t have a choice and just going

with what my self destructive mind tells me to do

that once i actually just notice my options

and evaluate them, simply

no strings attached

and make a choice to do the opposite of what i usually do

i feel so empowered and happy and hopeful and

in control, in the good sense

and it’s like

thank god

i’m alive

to know what this feels like.

*freedom

when you run into someone
you haven’t seen in over a year,
someone who you loved deeply,
still do,
someone who straight up
abandoned you
someone who only gave you
an echoes answer,
and suddenly they’re standing
directly in front of you and you
aren’t afraid to look them straight
in the eyes like you thought
you would be
and all you feel is love
which surprises you because
you aren’t used to
softening, you aren’t used
to forgiving.
and then without thinking,
you pull that person,
who is practically a stranger
to you now, into
a tight embrace, that is when
you know hesitation
no longer belongs to you,
that is when you know
that something inside you has
changed
for the better
while you weren’t looking.

and I can’t help but
think of you every time I hear
the sound of Julian Casablancas’s
voice
and I can’t help it
I will never be able to listen to
the Strokes without
remembering why i loved you
and I can’t help it
there isn’t a single September I’ve lived through without
being reminded of the first time
we fell in love
and it’s quite funny actually
that even after all this time
you’re still my favourite muse
and it’s quite remarkable actually
that even after how much you
hurt me
I could never ever
not love you
you never did realize
how lucky you were,
did you?
or perhaps I’m asking myself
that same question
either way,
you’re still
there
in those songs
in those places
and it will always be
the most bittersweet
of returns.

when we were sixteen and in love, i remember you saying
"what if hope and fear are the same thing?"
i remember feeling scared when you said that
because for the first time in my life
i had to think about
the difference but i was hopeful
i would find an answer.

when i was nineteen and hopeless, i remember him saying
"he no longer wishes to speak to you or see you ever again."
i remember laughing at first, for i thought it was a joke
but it's almost been a year now and what i've learned is
that five years of love can vanish
in a single day
and you may never get a chance
to say goodbye.

but i have scars to remember the wounds that were
self inflicted
hope and fear were the stitches that let them
heal
i'm afraid of many things but i like to think
that hope is stronger, it must be stronger
otherwise i wouldn't be here
i don't think.

Don’t let this ruin your night. You can’t control it, you never could control it, and that’s the reason why you went crazy.

Don’t go back to being that girl who lets her sadness define her.

The pain isn’t going to go away overnight and you know that is why it is 2am and you are still awake.

You have so many people in your life who love and support you. I’m sorry that the one person who should be there isn’t. It’s not your fault and I wish I could make it stop. I wish love could make people better but it can’t.

Don’t let this ruin you. You have to remember how strong you are capable of being because you have to get through this. Somehow. I wish it was easier. I’m sorry.

it’s exhausting,
to try to put a memory to a face
to each face,
to your own face,
in each photograph that you see
that has captured
each underlying entity
that make up an entire sea
populated only by
the ghosts of who you have
and haven't been.

i need a crash course for how to give someone an ultimatum
i need a guideline for how to bypass bullets of guilt
that always aim straight for the heart
and lodge themselves into the core of my chest
i need a technique on how to take them out of my body
without getting my hands all ******
without the terror and devastation of leaving
a pool of blood in the beds of everyone
around me
i need a how-to-stop-needing-your-mother guide
i need to find the-thesaurus-for-making-the-truth-sound-nicer
but no matter how i try to word this,
it always ends up coming out wrong.

get sober, or get out of my life.

this is not as simple as it sounds.

i am so done playing this game
i need a ******* mother who doesn't go from being
kind then manipulative then cold then apologetic then attacking
all in one hour
i need you to grow the **** up and set a ******* example
i've given up on you
i can't believe i just wrote that
i don't know how to tell you any of this
hoping hurts too much and i am trying
to convince these wounds to heal a little softer for once
i'm trying to be gentle with myself
and no matter how much i wish you could be a part of that -
the healing -
you still make me want to die.

everything about this is so wrong
so wrong so wrong so wrong

i'm not certain of a lot of things
but i am **** sure that the devil
is at the root of addiction - of every kind -
and i'm sorry for those who love someone
who is sick like this
there is no greater pain than this
there is no greater pain
than this
and i have never understood something
more deeply
than i understand
this and sometimes i wonder if it would be easier
if i never understood it
in the first place.

it's strange seeing
where everyone is now,

how one moment we were little babies at our desks,
trading lunches side by side,
writing love letters and getting kicked out
of class
how we truly believed in the meaning of
forever,
how we promised each other
we would stick together, like glue
after everything we knew would be over,
when the cold hands of life
would tear the hearts out of our chests
at last.

it was strange sitting across from you at that table,
with nothing but two coffee cups to symbolize
all the distance that no word could summarize,
how i listened as you filled me up
with the contents of your life that i could not
digest,
"we are buying a house together, it's so exhausting always going
back and forth, you know?"
i nodded and smiled, wondering selfishly if i would be
invited to the wedding.
coming from a family of divorce, i don't have much of a stance on weddings
but i have always found the idea of them
beautiful.

it's strange when you realize
success for you maybe different for someone else,
success for them may be a house, a car, and a high paying job
success for you may be just taking care of yourself in the way that
you give yourself something to look forward to
in order to survive another day,
in order to truly learn
to live.

and it's strange because
there comes a point where you know
two lives cannot ever be
compared.

one of the most liberating moments
someone can ever live through
is the moment where they realize
that it wasn't their fault
that they were left.
the moment they finally decide
it's time to
forgive themselves
for thinking they deserved
to be
abandoned.

always hoping for the best
and expecting the worst,
i see the sadness in everything,
but i also the the beauty,
which is why
i laugh too hard, i cry too easily,
you will find yourself always asking me
either "what's the matter?" or
"what's so funny?"
and i will find silly answers for both
that will never suffice because
i never have any.
i am looking for them just as carelessly
as you.

and i think we both know
that you don't mean it when you say
"see you soon"
because how soon is now?
it's always later than sooner
for most things, anyway.
it's hard not to spend a lifetime
waiting wasting wondering
when something extraordinary is going to
come along, when you will stop feeling
like dry eraser remnants sprinkled across
an old writer's desk,
when you confront the fact
that you've always only ever been
a big and lonely mess
of please love me, please leave me, please show me
how to start being more and stop
being less.

you tried at 15 by overdosing on a combination of
prescription pills your mother hoarded in her cabinet
when your mother found you on the floor,
the only thing she could do
was call you pathetic and get mad at you
for taking her pills without asking.

you tried again at 21, pills again
your brothers threw you in the backseat of their car, dragged you to
emergency, and gave you a mouthful of charcoal
before you had the chance to tell them
whether you were sorry
or not.

that was then, and this is now
and one of us are bound to die
before the other one has a chance to say
sorry
or not.
I hope you let it be
me.

i just want to forget you
the way flower petals forget the flower
once they've been plucked
by the hand of
absentmindedness

i just need someone to take me, put me in an empty room
and slap me till i'm blue in the face
till all recollection falls out of  me
and into
the abyss of eternal oblivion
i just need someone to hate me
because i know better than to believe i deserve
anything more than that.

so take me, hit me, hate me, leave me, don't trust me
when i say it hurts
because no one could hurt me more than i hurt myself
so don't trust me
when i smile in response to your compliments
you don't know me, and you probably never will
you don't love me either
even if you think you do
it's all a lie
everything is a lie
so slap me until i forget how
to cry

because i bet you anything even by then,
i still won't feel a thing.

i wish you would have told me
that you would never be ready for me to grow up
i wish you would have held me
and gently pushed my hair behind my ear and whispered;
"my love is limited."

had you warned me perhaps i would have had an easier time
admitting i was fragile
how long does fragility last?
had you told me when i was small perhaps it would have been easier
for me realize i had the power to choose
whether or not you could hurt me
that is, if it is true that we have a say
in who hurts us.
is it a choice?

i don't know, but perhaps if i knew you wouldn't be staying
in my life for the long run
i would have let go of you sooner
instead of finding myself trapped
between knowing i need to let go of you now
but hardly grasping on to understanding what that really means
at all.

i have an endless amount of patience at the beginning of december
right when all the trees and wreaths go up
and all the holiday music begins to play
i even have enough patience to sing along and enjoy
the predictable chord progressions.

by the middle of december the sadness begins to set in
the what-ifs-but-it's-not-this-is-how-it-is-and-how-it-should-have-be­ens
flashbacks of when things weren't broken
so then i try to make myself less sad and send christmas cards to people i love
and i try the "it is what you make it" approach
which only lasts for so long and then slowly
fades away.

by the end of december, five days before christmas
my patience has vanished
people irritate me
decorations irritate me
facts irritate me
i irritate me
i have no stomach for any of it and just wish i was a bear
so i could hibernate until all of this
holiday business is finally over with.

my downfall will always lay
on me putting too much emphasis on having certain
people in my life. it is terrifying,
because as soon as you let someone be the place
your mind wanders to when it’s bored or sad or lost,
you are in vulnerable territory.
and if it’s not
reciprocated, you’re *******.
i’ll never forget the first time i cut myself on the edge
of his indifference, my friend kept asking me
“why does he matter so much to you?”
and even though that was years ago,
i still can’t come up with an answer.
that’s the problem with caring too much,
you end up feeling like a deformed piece of pottery
touched and moulded by someone who never intended
on taking up a new hobby.
i confess, i’m not as i seem,
i can manipulate the perception other people have of me
so as to avoid the possibility of ever getting hurt.
when did i associate being myself with being hurt?
i do not know.
all i know is that with you i don’t pretend,
and i am more than aware
that that could be potentially
annihilating.

If I could be anywhere
Right now
I would be in your living room
Enveloped in your scent
The sky would be crying snow
All would be dark
Save for the glow of a candle
Our bodies would move
In a gentle sway
To a tune that would define
That very moment
All would be simple
And full
Each sad spark,
Amalgamated.
We would be held
In the palm of
An imprinted angel
All would be pacified
And possible
All we would ever know
Would be that
Swaying moment of warmth
Haunted by
Togetherness.

I don’t want to be something someone asks you about just because they don’t know any other conversation-starters.
I don’t want to be the last drag of your cigarette only for you to say “Oh well I’ll just light another one.”
I don’t want to be a suicide note you read over and over again trying to understand why you never understood me.
I don’t want to be the symbol behind your sorrow, I don’t want to be the last lilac sitting in a vase on your kitchen table watching you try to keep it alive.
I don’t want to be that song you listen to over and over trying to recreate something that you never even experienced to begin with.
I don’t want to be that picture you keep above your bed, I don’t want to be the half-eaten meal you fed to the dogs instead.
I don’t want to be compared to that thing that is killing you that I can’t control. But I am. I am. I am.
I’m sorry.

i can’t listen to the Strokes without thinking of my first love,
and how I only fell in love with them because
they were his favourite band, and i was in love with him.
i can’t listen to Mozart, Chopin, Satie, or classical music of any kind without thinking of my mother playing piano late at night
while I fell asleep to the sound of her fingers emanating warm melodies.
i can’t listen to Elliott Smith without thinking of being on the bus on the way to high school, and how much solace his music brought me
during those deeply lonely years of anguish and abandonment.
i can’t listen to the Beatles without thinking of my entire family,
jamming together in the garage, without thinking of love.
i can’t listen to the Weepies without thinking of my best friend,
driving around in her car on our way to anywhere, how those songs are symbols of our friendship in the form of sound.
i can’t listen to Regina Spektor without thinking of myself, throughout all stages of my life, without feeling alive, reminding me of who i am,
as an artist, as a lover, as a being.
i can’t listen to Tegan and Sara, *****, Rilo Kiley, Metric, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, or Broken Social Scene without thinking of my high school friends, all those concerts we went to, all the late nights.
That was the music that made me brave.
I can’t listen to Jazz music without thinking of my grandfather, and how many times I sang with him while he played the piano and smiled.

most of these people have come and gone
and i could go on
but if I’ve loved someone, there is a song that I will always associate
with them, and that time of my life.
music is the definition of every moment.
it’s one of the most comforting truths that there is.

At least once in every day I contemplate giving up.

I contemplate just turning the repetitive “I have to be strong for myself now” anthem that I sing to myself off. Like burning a record. Never to be played again.

And then I remember how bad it was, how bad it can still get again, and I change my mind.

I’ve heard people say it gets easier. I’m just going to have to keep trying to believe that.

Just because you don’t have the love and support from that one person who should, in a perfect world, always be loving and supporting you, does not mean you don’t deserve to be loved. Read this again. And again.

2. It’s both tragic and funny that whenever a good thing happens to you, a bad thing always comes up and tries to interrupt your joy. Just because you’ve always felt like a bad driver in a thunderstorm with no windshield wipers doesn’t mean the sky chooses to torment you. The sky is just being the sky. You have weathered these storms before, and you will weather them again. One day you will see how strong the tempest has made you.

3. You are unconditionally loved by more than one person. Not many people have that. Don’t be afraid to throw that love back out into the world with your helium balloon of a wild heart. And no more late night pity parties with that sappy “I don’t deserve love” refrain.

4. You cannot be mentally stable if your body is constantly trying to keep up with you. Feed it, wash it, clothe it, rest it. Just because you’re sad and scared does not mean your body deserves to suffer. I know taking care of yourself hasn’t really ever been your forte, so go lightly. Drink some water for a start.

5. Just because you’re struggling doesn’t mean going back to your old ways of coping are going to cure you of your struggle. The definition of a crazy person is someone who does something over and over again while expecting different results. You remember that person. You remember those results. How about not going down that road again, yeah?

6. You can doubt everyone’s love until the cows come home but in the end no amount of love from anyone else will ever feel like enough if it doesn’t come from yourself. It’s the oldest, most difficult thing you can ever do and we all need a little reminding every now and again.

7. Stop blaming yourself for still being afraid of being abandoned. There is no deadline on healing from old wounds, they have been embedded in you almost all your life. It wasn’t your fault then, and it’s not your fault now. If people leave, it’s their ******* loss. Your worth does not depend on who does or does not decide to stay.

8. You’ve always loved too fast too hard too much, but that’s just who you are. Love and suffering are synonymous. The sooner you accept this, the less likely you will be to inflict unnecessary suffering upon yourself because of it.

9. Sensitivity and compassion are two of your best qualities. Being ashamed of that is a complete waste of time.

10. Healing is difficult, but you have to keep trying. Stay for the love. Stay for the music. Stay for the summer days of iced tea and copper skin. Stay for the mornings you wake up in a pair of arms that make you feel like you’re home. Stay for coffee and popsicles. Stay for soft kisses and raindrops on your tongue. Stay for the sadness. Stay for the joy. Stay for yourself. Stay.

I am
trying to find new ways
to deal with this
acute emptiness that has surrounded
me from the moment I
got home
instead of going back
to the same old familiar
mechanisms that have always
left me emptier than before.
Picking up the phone
and calling someone
who is actually sane
was a good first start.

i've been in love four times
almost five
but i stopped myself
like the moment you feel like telling someone the truth about something
because they seem like the kind of person you can trust
with something serious and personal and intense,
but then you stop yourself before
it's too late to take it back,
it was like that,
it was just like that.

i've been in love four times
and in a way, they were all small
repetitions of the first
but i think first love is like that,
when it ends, you just want to find it again
but you can't and so you keep trying
and then eventually
you go insane
with repeating the same thing over and over again
while expecting a different outcome.

and it's like reverse repetition
when you stop looking for someone to fill
your holes. and i never thought i'd get to this point,
being content with, finding solace even,
in the possibility of dying
alone.
perhaps its because everybody leaves, but
it's not really that,
it's just that i think at this point
i would be the one
to leave them.

I have begun my waiting
for you to die. Should this make me terrible,
i am not sorry. No,
not yet,
i am not sorry nor
do i feel the need to be.

You stripped me
bare
shoulders, bones and all,
my quest to save you has ceased now
that i am
no more
than
a droplet of rain on your windshield.

You can't feel
me
you can't see
me
you can try to touch
me
from the inside but i will always be
looking at you from the outside
in just
like i've always been with that
precious bullet proof glass
between us.

Yes,
i have begun my waiting for you to die.

I looked at the photographs

And felt 

The weight of all of the people
I could have 

Become.

The moment you finish a good book

Is like the moment you step out of the shower

You savour it while you can

While also still knowing

That nothing lasts forever.

I guess it’s a good thing

I am a creature of a repetitive nature

So I can always go back

To good books and showers.

(While also still knowing

That nothing lasts forever.)

i like the way
you stare at me as i define the word busy
i like the way
you ask me how i'm doing
i like the hungry look
in your eyes as i reply "fine" because that is not enough of a response for you
to live on
i like the way
you keep trying to pursue me
after i've already made it ******* clear i'm not interested
i like how you said
you're okay with that
even though i know you aren't
i like the way you try
to catch my eye every time i walk past you
i like the way i look away
because eye contact is for sore girls with sad hearts
i like that i am
a sore girl with a sad heart but
my giggle distracts you from
knowing that
i like how i challenge your pride
every time i say no-thank-you-i-already-have-plans
i like how you keep reaching for something
that is obviously invisible
because i can hardly remember if i exist or not in general usually
i like how you don't know
that i can relate to that feeling
of wanting something that barely exists to begin with
i like how i say goodbye to you
right before the back door closes
and never looking back
at you to see if you're watching me
because i already know
that you are.

out of the blue you asked me if
the reason we don't talk anymore is because
both of us are supposedly "busy"
or if it is because
i'm trying to get better
while you're still trying to die

i quit beating around the bush
and told you the honest truth
scared to death
of hurting you even more
than you already are.

"it's okay, i understand. see you on the other side."
was all you said.

it breaks my heart to know that there are
two connotations
to that answer
and i might never find out
which one you were
referring to.

days are more about
reading, learning, listening
to the life that i have,
to the life i wish to live.
(instead of watching them float by,
as i used to do, drowning myself
in a mud-bath of self hatred day after inevitable day.)

nights are more about
hoping, breathing, praying
to some kind of creator that watches over me,
who i can talk to when my mind becomes an enemy.
(instead of being convinced that my mind is God, therefore i must be
all of the horrible things it said i was: too sensitive, too invested,
too worried, too big, too much.)

jobs are more about
getting up, dressed, and out of the house
to go somewhere for four hours to interact with people,
make someone smile, and even some cash.
(instead of seeing it as a wasteful pastime or a distraction from
myself in order to continue a life of destruction while in disguise.)

friends are more about
less talking, more listening and profound fulfilment for
the few i have and being content with not needing more,
being honest and loyal, accepting that sometimes
people cannot always be physically inseparable but that
does not mean their hearts are not.
(instead of calling myself a failure for not having ten people on
speed dial, not being “popular”, not being a “schmoozer” or “liked enough”, every
******* ego boost story we’ve all told ourselves at one point or another.)

parents are more about
patience, forgiveness and acceptance
for even though i did not have a happy upbringing,
parental stability, or a healthy environment, they did
what they could with what they had and i no longer
wish to be on my deathbed just to prove a selfish point.
(forgiving the very person who gave me life for all the years
of abandonment and neglect is the hardest thing i will ever do,
and am still in the process of. it is a miracle to say though,
that things are significantly better than i ever imagined them to be.)

life is more about
living:
sleeping, eating, moving, watching, learning, sitting, singing, speaking,
listening, crying, smiling, creating, walking, asking, wondering, hoping, playing, detaching.
being at peace with the mundane and calling it growth.
sometimes i’m so filled with life my body feels like a helium balloon that is barely able to stay on the ground. other times i’m so tired i stay in bed
for an entire day doing nothing but worry i am a failure. i am learning to be okay with catching glimpses of who i am, but not always being fully certain. (instead of looking to others to validate my ego, or sense of self i had manipulated so that i could be perceived a certain way.)
**instead of believing the illusions, i choose to challenge them.

I’m watching you
fall
down
down
down
into the rabbit hole
again. I reach out
my hand, suspended in fear
you reject it and say,
“I have to go for real this time.”
this time? There is no time.
you don’t see yourself.
you can't see yourself.
I want to follow you
into the hole of oblivion just so you don’t have to be alone in this.
but hating myself is a hamster wheel
I can’t afford to run on anymore
even still, i wish i could make you see
how unbelievably perfect you are
and have always been.
I hope one day you’ll swim up
to the shore to clear your lungs,
and when you do,
I will be there, waiting for you
and we can go back to neverland
and live in the lagoon of love
that brought us together
in the first place, that seems like it was
so very long ago.

my heart sank so far
down into my stomach
when I found out that
you’re trying to make
yourself disappear again.
I am so helpless and scared
for you, I know
there’s nothing I can say to make you
feel like you’re enough but
I can’t help but hang on to the hope
that you will find an ounce of strength
to love and take care
of yourself again.
I wish I could but
I can’t do it for you.
please, please
try. I love you so much,
it hurts.

i need you more
than you need *****
i need you to hold me and tell me
a little good news
i can't play more than two notes without
breaking down
flashbacks of how you used to keep me
safe and sound

i must have been safe in the womb
you must have wanted me,
when i lived inside you.

all i'm saying is,
nine months must have counted
for something
something more
than this.

I haven’t been held
by anyone for a long time
I’m beginning to wonder
if I have been held by anyone
ever at all
and how many things I used to have
that I now miss
more than anything in the world
like being held and being
kissed
and if any of those things
have ever actually
existed. Lonely
refrigerator.
Tap water
over hard boiled eggs.
Ice cubes sliding down your
shirt.
Being pushed off of
a very tall building,
everything must serve
a purpose I guess.

i asked you for money
to contribute to my trip to Florida

because i am a horrible daughter
because you haven't worked for three years
because i was testing you
because it's wrong that i have a job and you don't
because i'm 21 and you're 45
because i know you're broke and wanted to remind you of that
because you have two children you're not taking care of
because you have three children total but i don't count myself as yours anymore
because you have a lot of growing up to do
because i wanted to feel guilty for asking
because a piece of paper has exceeded the worth of our relationship
because i'm about to go on the most amazing adventure of my life
and you're not even happy for me
because i need your support
because you're essentially absent from my life
because you're dating a drug dealer who supplies you with everything
because i need you
i need you
i need you
i need you
because i'm a horrible daughter
because i'm greedy for asking
because nothing is enough.

I want to give you all of the good parts of me,
The ones you deserve
The parts that are whole on their own, the silent parts
The ones that fall asleep with ease
The parts that have never rejected
Goodness or entertained the notion
Of an early death.
I feel crazy most days, I wake up and I'm someone
And by the time I get to work I am someone else entirely
Some days I get home and snap at my little brothers
Some days I get home and I'm giggly and jumpy and full of life
Some days I cannot focus on anything else
But my pain, my suffering, my illness
Some days I am nothing but completely
Consumed.
You do not deserve to have the bad parts of me,
But if you love me,
Then won't you love them too?
So when you ask me who I am
I will only tell you the truth of who I am
At that exact moment
But be aware, that person will have bolted
Fled into another life
And be replaced
By another person entirely by the time
You've hung up the phone and said, i love you, i will see you
Later. But who exactly will you be seeing later?
So take the good parts, while they're still here
Because by tomorrow I may have sinned
I may have taken all the goodness out of my chest
And burned it with your heart.
This has happened before and if it happens again, I'm sorry in advance
I just don't know how to make all of the
Flying particles of myself
Stand still.
How to make the goodness and the badness fit together to make
Something that might have the potential to be
Everlastingly beautiful.