You see, I can be myself now, finally.
In fact, there's nothing I can't be.
I want the world to see you be with me.

And the funny thing is, I still have these dreams about the wonderful things that could have happened if you were the person I wanted you to be.

My brain still wants you around, though I'll never understand why.

And in a way, I hope he tells you,

but not before I get a few cheap shots in, first.

Here are some truths ( Read more... )

You thought that I would break first, but you were wrong. I guess I appreciate the effort but you know what? You've said a lot of things to me over the last few days, and not one of them began with, "I'm sorry ( Read more... )

I'm missing things I never owned, I'm craving things I have no right to touch. I am the worst kind of fool and I am getting desperate. Disparate.

I am loving every day of hunger, and wanting, and nervous hands and when the perfect storm comes I will be ready with this umbrella made of flesh and bone to hold me up in perfect sunlight.

My dreams ( Read more... )

I can't make you do the right thing, I can't even make you admit that you were wrong. I suppose that's fine because honestly, I don't have the energy to try and I feel like my heart would hurt if I did. I can't change the fact that you've upset me but since there is nothing I can do, nothing I can change, I might as well be happy ( Read more... )

I suppose this is what it's supposed to feel like, this general sense of melancholy that pervades my every moment. This is what I remember. And it's not like I'm sad about anything in particular it's just that everything I do is now weightier, more meaningful, more severe. Every spilled drink is a missed opportunity, every failed crossword is a ( Read more... )

It's Friday and that means I can finally be alone with myself. It's like a third date with someone you've been dying to get behind a closed door just so you can stare at their cheekbones without being interrupted. I'm Narcissus reflecting on his own reflection because no one ever said, "Good job" when I was five. Blame the parents ( Read more... )

Oh, honey, I remember you, you haunted what I loved best. You chased him down from town to town and tried to lick his boots. And honey, weren't you afraid of me? Little me, quiet, shy, and timid me? Oh yes, but I never bit. No, no, I never took your bait. I never laid one hand on your pretty red head, but, oh,

if looks could kill.