|Tell me all the terrible things you've done and let me love you for them anyway|
It's the beginning of the end...
I'm not blind,
I just didn't want to admit it.
But I'll be fine. Nobody ever sticks around for long anyway.
The bottle by the bed has become my best friend.
The only one who shows me any attention these days.
And I know it's not healthy, but damn.
I need an escape.
I don't write as well as I used to anymore.
I guess I left my talent in the same place I left myself. I still don't know where that is.
Somewhere along the way, I suppose I gave up. But I never gave up on you.
You don't ever deserve to be put in a position where you are left wondering where you went wrong. And never ever let someone leave you questioning your worth.
Thank you for treating me like shit. Because it gave me the opportunity to experience what it feels like to be treated right.
For every broken promise. Because it gave me the chance to realize that people don't always do what they say they're going to. It gave me the chance to not get my hopes up and be crushed in the end.
For calling me worthless. And making me believe it. Because it gave someone else the chance to build me back up from nothing and show me that I am worth it and to encourage me to be better.
For cheating on me. Over and over again. Because it showed me that I should take everything you say with a grain of salt and ...
All of this is just debris left over when we finally decide to smash everything we thought we used to be. And if you can't find anything beautiful about yourself, get a better mirror, look a little closer, and stare a little longer because there is something inside you that made you keep trying despite everyone who told you to quit. You built a cast around your broken heart and you signed it yourself. You signed it "They were wrong." They have to be wrong. Maybe you didn't belong to a group or a clique. Maybe you were picked last for basketball and everything else. Maybe you brought bruises and broken teeth to show and tell but you never told because how can you hold your ground when everyone...
We've been through the same old song and dance before. It's like you tore a page out of the playbook and are using it to try to reinvent the airplane. Folding it until there are creases going in every direction, and that shit just won't fly.
And if we agree to disagree, then we never took the time it takes to analyze the mistakes that we made. So we stay at a stalemate where the rate of progress is equal to a snail's pace. In a rat race where people chase fairy tales, hoping all the happy endings get married to tragic beginnings. And all the ever-afters last forever. And I'll be the first to admit, I really wish there was a never land. Where time never takes us by the hand and forces us to...
I hate you
I love you
I hate that I love you
You love her
You need her
I will never be her.
You should have tried Harder.
But you didn't.
Fuck you for that
To love me
is to love a haunted house–
it’s fun to visit once a year,
but no one wants to live there,
and when you say,
“Tell me about the bad days,”
it sounds like all the neighborhood kids daring each other to ring the doorbell,
you love me
like the family walking through Horrorland holding hands–
You are not stupid,
or even brave,
you’ve just never seen
the close-up of a haunting.
this love will not cure me.
And this love will not scrape
the blood from the baseboards.
And once you experience the darkness,
I'm afraid you'll go running toward the light.
A re-lit cigarette never tastes the same.
That's all I'll say about rekindling old flames.
For you to feel so sad,
You had to have once felt so happy
And you will find that feeling again.
And it will be beautiful
I guess to some people, I will always be the bad guy.
And I'm okay with that.
What is anxiety?
Anxiety is the way my sleeves ride over my hands
Hiding my clenched fists and curled toes.
Anxiety is the school corridor
That damn door
It’s just a door, but the options
Is it push
Is it pull
Everyday the same battle
Is it push is it pull
Anxiety is the crushing feeling
When something I used to love
The adrenaline rush I used to get is overshadowed
By all the possible scenarios I’ve played out in my head
On repeat my death
Multiple ways my life could end in this split second
But I can’t as the movie plays on in my head
The cymbals crash at the end of each scene
My body lays on the groun...
Maybe we find it easier to talk to strangers about our problems because they have no previous knowledge of what we've done in our lives. They can judge us, but their judgements are based solely on what we choose to share with them. Strangers are easier to spill our brains out to because, if for only a few minutes, we can escape the prison that is our mind. And it's not even all about trust. We don't know them, therefore we can't exactly trust them. Yet, we open up to them for the sole purpose of knowing that you have no mutual friends or family, so there is no way they could spread your stories to anyone you know. I believe there is a temporary friend in every stranger. It might only be a 5 m...
It always took me so long to decide what I wanted off the menu when we would go out to eat.
I would always go through countless wardrobe changes before we'd leave the house.
It always took me 5 or 6 different failed attempts to figure out what to do with my hair before I put it up like I normally do...
The point is, you knew I could never make up my mind about anything
But I was so fucking sure about you.
Do you know how I feel? When the feeling of their fist against my jaw fills me with anger, and the taste of blood and bruise confirms that I am the victim. They claim they know my story, but can they hear the distant taunting that drowns me in a pool of comments that kill my self esteem? Can they see the constant monster that haunts me every time I look in the mirror, because they told me the monster is inside of me.
I can hear that.
That, and the whispers. The whispers that claim to know my story. But they don't. I know my life story like the back of my hand. Because my left hand was beaten when I tried to cover my face when I was jumped before class, and my right hand wipes the tears off ...
Maybe it's just me, but I think your heart was designed to be broken. They say nothing in life comes easy, and love isn't a perfect picture, It's more like a Picasso painting, or the stained glass window of a church, Jagged and unique. I mean everyone's story is different, but, without ever being broken how else will you find the beauty in changing around the pieces until your can truly say you love yourself, and feel comfortable letting the right man, step in, and help you with those bags.
Someone had to remind you to put on your smile as if it was a brand new outfit that you picked out just for tonight, and remind you that your heart is an orchestra that never deserves to be muted, and although some people may not realize the beauty of your song, that's no reason to stop playing.
Being hurt isn't easy,
but as crazy as it sounds, the person who rises from the aftermath of love's explosive backfire, is usually 10 times stronger. So congratulations to the next man that wins the lottery of your attention, and with all due respect, thank you to the last one, that hurt you because without his stupidity you may have moved into that mediocre home you called a "relationship", and neve...
Did it hurt? Did it hurt when you handed him the keys to your heart, and watched him wreck through your emotions like a demolition derby? There has to be a reason you're so guarded...
There has to be a reason you're avoiding vulnerability as if you were allergic to it, but don't mind me...I'm just admiring the walls you've built.
Reminding me of fort knox, you're guarded, because one day, you thought trust, was simple, and when the avalanche of his errors left you broken, you made the decision to doubt all of the laughs you had right before this very moment. Being happy, just didn't feel so safe anymore.
I've kinda got my heart set on being huge. And I figure maybe with a bigger heart, I can learn to love strangers a little more again. maybe laughter can be my encore after every smile. And I could have hands like cranes that could lift the heavy weight of lonliness from the shoulders of the rejected. Because the world needs a friend.
And maybe I could bend minds around the concept that depression really is dangerous, and we can't afford to have people dismiss our happiness. And yet, it seems more likely that you would rather keep me in a constant state of unhappy. Which lends a truth to the theory of misery and company.
Let me go
So I don't cut your heel trying to fit your foot into a glass slipper that I already smashed against the sidewalk.
Let me wander through the flock and show you that I have teeth, too.
And the they have bitten through my tongue every time I have had to hold it. And I've held it long enough.
But I've got the words,
I've got the words so sharp
They'd have to drive you to the hospital just to stop the bleeding. I'm tired of you needing us to be together.
Let me go
so I don't slip and say something like
"The only person who lets me down more than my mother is you."
See, I didn't mean to..
But somewhere along the way I grew a mouth like a cannon,
So the next time you ran around sp...
I've been shot down so many times, I get altitude sickness just from standing up for myself.
Remember, your mommy is a worrier, and your daddy is a warrior, and you are the girl with small hands and big eyes who never stops asking for more. Remember that good things come in threes and so do bad things. Always apologize when you've done something wrong, but don't you ever apologize for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining. Your voice may be small, but don't ever stop singing
And when they ask you about me and you find yourself thinking back at all the memories, I hope you ache in regret as the truth hits you like a bullet, and you find yourself saying "she loved me more than anything else in the world...and I destroyed her "
But you will never forget me. I represent all the sins you never had the courage to commit.
There'll be days like this. When you open your hands to catch and wind up with only blisters and bruises; when you step out of the phone booth and try to fly and the very people you want to save are the ones standing on your cape; when your boots will fill with rain, and you'll be up to your knees in disappointment. And those are the very days you have all the more reason to say thank you.
Because there's nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it's sent away. You will put the win in win some, lose some. You will put the star in starting over, and over, and over again. And no matter how many land mines erupt in a minute, be...
You're not in love with her.
If yelling at her doesn't make your throat burn like you just downed 6 shots, you're not in love with her. If her eyes can't make you stop in your tracks and think about what to say next, you're not in love with her. If her laugh doesn't make you tense up your knuckles when you think about never being able to hear it again, you're not in love with her. If her voice can't calm every nerve in your body and make you want to hear what she has to say, you're not in love with her. If taking off her clothes is the only time you pay attention to her...you're not in love with her
You never started loving me, so you can never quit. I could hold this whole world up and you'd still think I'm shit.
I've kissed more bottles
But that's okay
Because hangovers hurt
Less than heartbreaks
... And he'll be angry. Boy will he be angry. He'll call her names and tell everyone she turned out to be this and she turned out to be that, but he'll conveniently forget what he did to make her turn out to be this or that. He'll forget to mention all the real life shit he did to her, and just how long she took it. Making excuses for it, even, before she realized she couldn't live like this, and became the this and that he claims she is. But just remember- he is a coward. And you have to understand that's just the type of shit cowards do.