It never ceases to amaze me
that there are people in the world
that don’t have to stay up
until 3 in the morning
crying into the darkness
wondering if anyone will ever love them
because to me it just a part
of my nightly routine.
It never ceases to amaze me
that there are people in the world
that don’t have to stay up
until 3 in the morning
crying into the darkness
wondering if anyone will ever love them
because to me it just a part
of my nightly routine.
I’ve never been one to mind a little rain.
Everything needs a little water to grow.
It’s when the hurricanes hit that I begin to quake.
A little rain won’t hurt they say,
but what do you do when you’re drowning?
Drowning in despair, emotions, thoughts
with no idea when or why the storm had to strike now.
Maybe you’ll get some false hope
in an eye of the storm where
you’ll let yourself believe
that it can get better; it will get better
only to be hit by the other half of the storm,
far more furious than the last.
All you can do is bunker down and stay inside,
hoping that this storm won’t be your last.
But that’s hard to do when you know at the end,
when the sun decides to make a reappearance,
you’ll be faced with the devastation and despair
that came from the havoc and furry of the beast.
It’s hard to let yourself rebuild everything up
when you know that at any moment
another hurricane could strike and tear you right back down.
I’d like to believe that horrible cyclones are few and far between,
but I’m more realistic than that.
Whether I intended to or not, I have to realize
that my life has set its roots on the coastline
and I am forever destined to keep being hit
by bad hurricanes over and over
and the only way out is to either succumb
or get my shit together and move out,
but that’s a lot more strength than you’ll find
behind these batters doors .
If the main goal of living
is to follow your dreams,
then why am I still here?
My dreams will never come true
and hanging around is really
only torturing myself by thinking
about the what-ifs when
there was never even a what.
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.
When I was driving through the mountains,
I eventually had to come out the other side
which meant I was going downhill.
I didn’t realize though that even after
driving through the flat cornfields of Ohio,
I would still feel like I’m going downhill
a whole week later.
No more adventures
No more bridges
No more brunches
No more beaches
No more ice cream
No more laughs
No more dolphin shows
No more foreign sodas
No more fireworks
No more cribbage
No more video games
No more smiles
No more you.
Dating anyone but you
would mean I’m settling.
How do I convince myself
that I’m actually worth less?
How do I tell myself
that I don’t deserve
everything I thought that I
could ever want in life?
How do I tell myself that
I can be happy with
someone who has less to offer?
How do I live with myself?
How do I keep going
when I know what’s waiting
for me down the road
is just disappointment?
No one can ever compare.
You’re the gold medal.
Everyone else just feels like
a participation trophy.
I hate what I’ve become.
I hate how I look.
I can’t even look in the mirror.
When I see other girls
with their boys and makeup
I can’t help but feel inferior.
It’s hard to be proud
of the way that I look
when even I know I’m fat.
People can lie
and tell me I’m fine,
but there’s no truth behind any of that.
I know I’m not a ten
and I don’t want to be perfect,
but I wish I could turn just one head.
I’ve never been attractive,
but now I don’t even try.
I never want to leave my bed.
I wish I was pretty,
either inside or out,
but I’ll never be called “beautiful”.
I wish I could hide
and spare the world of my face.
For society and the world, I’m unsuitable.
I’m to take a shot
Everytime I think of you.
…Not my best idea
Today isn’t better.
The smallest things upset me.
I think I’ll give up.