The Left Behind

It’s much easier to do the leaving

than to be the left behind.

While you are all off to do

all new things

in all new places

with all new people,

I’m left with the same life

I’ve lived for many years before

except it’s different now

because you’re not here

to experience it with me.

Not a lot of exciting things happen to me

that you haven’t heard of lived before

but I get to hear all your exciting

stories from around the country

and realize how stuck I really am.

I’m glad my friends get to go on

such exciting adventures, I am.

But sometimes they don’t realize

that in the wake of their new experiences

I am left behind with no one

to do something as simple as

get a coffee with

because my closest best friend

is at now four hours away

and that makes life very lonely.

 

Trinkets

It makes my heart so sad

to hear all these girls talk

about what they want

(and will probably get)

for valentines day.

They want flowers

and cards

and chocolates

and candies

and teddy bears

and big gestures

and I am insanely jealous.

Not of the things they’ll get,

because stupid trinkets

from an aisle at Walmart

don’t interest me.

I envy their status;

their position;

the fact that they are

in a place where they can

have and set expectations

such as these meaningless items

because all I want

are three short words

but I will never hear them.

Instead, I’ll get three different words instead:

you’re not enough.

 

And I never will be.

Fairytales

I wish that fairytales were real

because that would mean that

dreams really do come true

just because you will them too

and patiently wait for them to happen

and everyone gets a happy ending,

even me.

But that’s just not the case.

Love is a sham

and the more you believe in it,

the more you’ll get hurt.

then again, if you don’t believe in love,

the world reveals it’s cold self,

and it’s miserable living there,

but so is living in a constant state

where you believe that any day now

you’re fairytale will come true

and your prince will finally love you.

Go ahead and pick you poison:

reality or an apple.

 

Suffocating

I feel like I’m suffocating.

I go through the motions every day

to live the life that is expected up me

but more often than not

I feel like I’m trapped in a life

that belongs to someone else.

I feel as though I am not my own person.

I am just the person everyone else

wants me to be. And I hate it.

I hate who I am, how I look.

I hate my backstory.

I have more regrets than I

could shake all the sticks in the world at.

I can’t change the things about me

to even try to live the life I want

so I keep on living the one I’ve got.

But why?

It’s pointless.

I’m not going anywhere.

Why bother even trying anymore?

Days Like Today

On days like today,

it would be so easy

to do something as simple

as go for a drive

on the slick, white roads

and maybe go a little

faster than the speed limit

and lose the little control

I have in my life.

 

On days like today

it would be so easy

to just give in;

to just let go

and give up;

to fall off course

and have an accident…

or what looks like one.

What’s one more mistake?

Tinkerbell

I’m very much like Tinkerbell.

I need attention or I’ll die.

Preferably positive.

OR at the very least to feel

like everyone important

in my small circle of loved ones

isn’t ignoring me.

I’m not asking for a party

or even to meet up.

Just a simple text

asking about my day

or to see if I’m okay…

because I’m not.

No Strangers Here

It’s one of the longest nights of the year

and my soul aches from the pressure it brings.

As the darkness surrounds me,

I open my eyes and see much the same.

I lay in the small, worn bed of my childhood

as the silent tears glide down my face,

softly landing and expanding the never-ceasing puddles.

The tears are no strangers here.

My well-trained pillows are familiar with

muffling the screams and questions

that come straight from my damaged heart:

Why am I not good enough?

Why don’t I deserve love?

No one will ever love a damaged soul like mine.

My soul aches with the weight of carrying questions

that can never be asked or answered.

They are a burden I’m left to ponder

while staring at my ceiling,

trying to make out the faint details in the plaster

as I’ve done so many times before.

I’ve been here before.

I know I’ll be here again.

There’s no way to fix me

and even if there was,

it’s been made clear many times

that no one in my life will ever try.

I’m not worth it.

No one will wastes an “I love you”

on a girl destined to die.