Because you're beautiful tonight.

I am slowly sinking into my mattress and becoming part of it. The weight of everything I'm trying so hard to ignore is pushing me deeper into it. My eyelids start falling like a garage door and even though my body hurts all over, words and ideas are ricocheting in my mind like a bullet in a metal room. I imagine a pair of arms wrapped around my goosebump ridden body. I do not imagine them attached to anybody or anything, just that they're there. It's very hard for me to look at everything the way everyone wants me to, but that doesn't mean I'm not still trying. While everything gets jumbled up I envision a person that does not exist coming in while everything is so fucked up and just laying down next to me. Nothing more, nothing less. Just someone to be physically there for me. I have literally never felt more alone than I do right now. I am more than well aware that I am so much stronger than I'm allowing myself to be. I'm just too exhausted, physically, emotionally... As I slowly open my eyelids, I stare at the ceiling. I turn the shapes of my popcorn ceiling into either familiar symbols and pictures or made up characters. After realizing what I am doing and convincing myself that I'm going mad, I close my eyes once more and make up my own fairy tale land. Grass the greenest of grasses rolls onto hill, after hill, after hill...freshly cut of course. A few trees here and there, the kind that only exist in cartoons, with the exception of lower branches, so as they're easy for climbing. Don't even get me started on the flowers and meadows. Places like this actually exist, I think. Or so I am told and I want to believe. But here I am, sunken into my jersey sheets worrying about boys and money. Do you think that this is what life is supposed to be about? Spending year after year wasting away in front of a desk just for a piece of paper? Sinking into our beds trying to forget what we read or heard? And do you think we're meant to go through people's lives the way we do? Passing by strangers that may not be such strangers after all. I just want to hug everyone. Let them know that while I may not really have anyone here for me, they have someone here for them. I honestly think that everything around me, every single atom, has a beauty far deeper than we ever imagined...and while I may pout, and whine, and indulge in my own loneliness, deep in my heart, I know its not about me. It's not supposed to be this way. Every single person put on this planet has a story. And I want to hear every single one. I don't even care if not one them asks me about mine, I just want to know what its like to live on this planet through every single person's perspective. I'm missing something. I'm right there, its on the tip of my tongue, but I am missing it. All my senses peek and I'm struggling to find away to be at peace with them. It's odd to me how someone can tell me all these nice things, and fill my head and heart with hope, and even though they shatter everything I looked forward to in them, I still hope they end up alright. Maybe I'm so exhausted because I spend so much time caring, and so much time just thinking. Constantly. Infinite amount of possibilities. Science. Alternate universes. Imagination. Books and cartoons. Characters, people. What-ifs and how tos. The human body. The human compassion. The human mind. Art. All of it, it astonishes me to no end. And yet as I try to soak it all in, here I am metamorphosing with my manifestation of a sleeping place. Something needs to change. I just have to figure out what.

Long lost lover.

I want to feel it so badly it makes my heart pop like an over inflated balloon. Nine times out of ten I expect it to end up differently when I know better...why? My skin is raised and my chest is turning red. You've all just used me like toothpaste and now the tube is empty and I'm ready for the trash. I've decided. I won't fall in love. My love lies within the grapes in wine and the melodies the hurt, betrayed, and lonely lead singer wailing through my speakers. My body parts fall asleep and for a second I enjoy it. Reminds me that I'm still working the way I should. My glass is empty and my heart is loud enough to over power the music. Why can't anybody stop thinking about their selves for one second? Just remember what it's like to be on the other end? I'm wheezing now. Asthma. Chalk up another issue with me. Where are you now? I clung to someone because they reminded me of someone else one time. Someone that I barely remember. I'd rather be angry, I've realized. It's my favorite. Its more energetic and fueled and it feels much better than sorrow. Why is everything always the same? The further away someone is from me, the safer I feel. You can't drink away your problems, but you can drink enough to where you start to not feel the pain. There will always be someone better than you, there will always be someone there first. And while you're reaching out with bloody palms hoping that someone out there gets it, you have to open your eyes under water and realize that no one does. As many times as someone says they do, they don't. This isn't home. Home isn't home. Home is dead. And I wanna go home. Don't think that just because you read this that you know me. Don't consider yourself enlightened because you relate to me. Two people can go through the same process and realize they are still in two totally completely different places. I love being angry. I haven't felt anything for so long and its my favorite emotion. I remember being center stage, curled into a ball screaming and crying with the spot light on me and EVERYONE FUCKING APPLAUDED ME. I like it. I like it so much because everyone thinks I am pretending and that I am talented but every fucking drop of it is one hundred percent real and I WOULD GIVE ANYTHING TO GO BACK. People paid money to see me drop my barriers. I stood, on risers, down stage center, spot light on me, and I gave a monologue about tulips and windmills and I made people cry. It was real. We are all trying so hard to be people we think we are not. But really, that's all we were to begin with. As I sober up, my anger dissipates. The bleak numb feeling I am so used to having has approached itself upon my shoulders. The alcohol mixed in with my blood stream and time moved faster as if I stepped onto a carrousel, but now the ride is over. I am patient. I am kind. I don't like it anymore. I get sick, feel okay, get sick, feel okay, and the process repeats itself. Its something we overlook everyday, kind of like gravity. Gravity gets in my way. I want to bounce so high up in the air that only the ceiling can stop me. Like the characters in the story I love so much. Bet you didn't know about that either. I want you all to be happy, and if you need me to be your doormat in order to get there, then I'll just suck it up and deal with it. I live on music. I live on art, beauty, lust, and lies. I live upon the shadows. Where I hide. In the closet, the cubbard, hoping someone will realize that I am missing and come looking for me. They never do. I'm clogged. I'm stuffed up. I am wounded, but it's nothing serious. Truth is, I didn't want it anyway. Everything I've ever wanted bounces between scenic. Bounces with confessional. Bounces with every word you didn't say. And you know what? I'm okay with that.