Find Me

Find me in the crowd of regret. Find me in the cloud of broken promises and failed dreams. That's where you'll find me.  You'll find me sitting alone, waiting for you to take the empty seat beside me. You'll find me walking the streets in the rain, praying for something good to come of the cold and flood of rain. You'll find me, on the roof, ready to take the jump. You will find me laying on my bedroom floor waiting for the pills to kick in. That's where you'll find me. You won't find me laughing with the other girls, or cheering on the cheer squad, you won't find me giggling with the football players. No, you'll find me sitting in the stairway alone at lunch, listening to depressing music and drawing eyes. Eyes that can see into your very soul. Eyes that make you think. After all, real eyes realize real lies. And your eyes, my darling, your eyes are as fake as they come. You only see what you want to see never what is truly in front of you no matter how obvious and life changing it is, your eyes can't see anything real. Your eyes are simply that. Eyes. They are color blind to what is actually going on in life. And you won't find me with those eyes. You won't save me. Your eyes will change when I'm gone. And maybe then you will realize the lies of the world.

Halo of Emptiness

You are an angel with the most beautiful halo. A halo of emptiness. A halo full of empty feeling and broken promises. A halo that is a constant reminder of all things that never happened, no matter how much you prayed they would. A halo full of people telling you to shut up, to stop feeling. To stop loving them, even though you know it's impossible to stop loving them because they are your world.

You are an angel whom everyone treats like a devil. An angel who has the biggest heart and most beautiful wings, but no one can look past your halo of emptiness. And maybe someday someone will look past your halo. Maybe someone will see that labels aren't all that matter. I was that angel. And the day I stopped caring about why other people thought, and did what I wanted to do, was the day I finally felt free. And you will too. 

Heartstrings

When you say my name, my heartstrings start to quiver. When you look my way, I feel a little strum from the harp of strings connecting my thoughts and feelings. When you touch my hand, my heart starts to beat out of my chest so rapidly that the strings have to pull with all their might to stop me from handing you my heart and my all.

Heartstrings are the only thing keeping me from giving myself to you. They tie me to the fence post of doubt and splash me with buckets full of reality. Reality that you won't love me. That you don't love me. Heartstrings are the only thing keeping me from kissing you. From kissing you daily. In the middle of class, right after the bus, in front of your parents, during our movie parties, during our damn walks I just have to kiss you, I have to kiss you now, but I can't. Because my heartstrings forbid it. They forbid me to even look at you. Because when I do, legions and legions of doubt and insecurity come flowing from my chest trying to build an immunity to you. Because you will infect me with your smile, your giggle, and your eyes. The very thoughts of you infects me so much that I have had hospital visits to get special antibiotics intended for killing off the thoughts of you, the dreams of you. And I let them. 

Grenades

It's your fault. It's always been your fault. You're nothing. No wonder you're friendless. You are a slut.

Why do you believe this? Why are you giving into the lies people are telling you? It's as if they are advertising suicide. Guns don't kill people, darling. People kill people. Words and bullying kill people. They kill people. Believing these lies that people feed you is the first step towards self hatred. Believing that you are nothing is the first step towards detonation. The grenade of life. 

Life is a ticking bomb. At first, when you are born, all seems well. You have all the time in the world. But then you grow up. You get hurt. You get your heart broken. You get bullied, abused, tortured. All of these are taking time off your, what seemed to be infinite life. This series of unfortunate events is shaving moments, seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, off your life. Listening and accepting this, is killing you. These things will build up and force you to pull your own cord on the grenade of life. They will make you detonate yourself. So speak up. Pull down your hand that is ready to end lives. Don't allow yourself to be put down by unloving and unintelligent people who are praying that you will fail. Don't let them win. Instead, speak your mind. Show them how you feel. The more you let go, the less time you will have. Speak up, tell that person to stop calling you that. Tell your friends that you don't appreciate them doing that. Speak up and save yourself. 

The Bus

Another day gone. Another hell about to begin. The bus. The terror of terrors. Cautiously walking up the stairs, careful not to fall on your face, you find your unassigned assigned seat. Seat 3C. Your favorite. The bus begins to fill, and with that, the noise begins. Time to start your music--but wait, here he comes. The boy of your dreams, the one you've wanted to marry since 5th grade. Here he comes. Casually strolling into the bus, looking around for an empty seat. He likes the empty seats. You're alike that way. He looks around, you moved your textbook before he entered the vehicle so perhaps he would sit by your side and confess his love-- but no. He walks past and takes the empty seat behind yours. Maybe a conversation, you think to yourself, but as you remove one headphone, he puts in his matching one. No luck.

It's your stop, both of yours. You gracefully exit the bus, careful not to trip, and wait for the okay to cross the street. "This is it, he will walk me home and kiss me in the garden, this is the day I've been waiting for!" But no. As you look behind, he's already walking 50 feet away. You can't do anything now. So you cross the street. "I hate that damn bus" you say to yourself as you take the long way home. 

Selfish

We are a selfish people. We lie, steal, beg, and cheat. We are selfish beings. Beings who care not about others, why would we? Why would we, the selfish, care for anyone but ourselves? Tis a rough world out there, my dear. One with perils unlike any you've seen before, love being the worst of them. Love, the very word makes me cringe. Not that I don't believe in infatuation, but because I've fallen in love so deeply, that it was impossible to fall out. "Falling in love is amazing" they say. But aside from the temporary joy you get from the so called "love" you also get sorrow, frustration, anger, loneliness, and fear. Nothing good can come from love. Fall off a cliff. It will hurt less than love. Nothing is good about love. Not when it is a selfish love. A selfish love, one that only takes the good and positivity out of you, will only bring you misery. We are a selfish people. Those who aren't, are over run by the selfish that inhabit the earth. Love, isn't all it is hyped up to be. Unless you let go of the selfishness within your heart, and give, and not only take, we will always be a selfish people incapable of love.

When You Left

I didn't know. How could I? Missing for 24 hours, and I had no idea. I went to bed that night, 364 days ago without a care in the world. Thinking you were safe in bed. 

I woke and rubbed my tired eyes, watching the world start to come alive as I opened them, never expecting the events of that day to unfold. Waiting, watching for something to come. Something, I knew, must be important. 

As the day went on, and I got to my 6th period class, all was normal. I took my test, another easy A. But something changed that day. Something I never expected. "Teachers and students, please excuse this interruption. Teachers you must open and read your email to the class. Again, please read it to your class" 

Whispers of what was to happen stirred throughout the class. I saw her face. My loving teacher, I saw the color drain from her rosy cheeks. I saw her place her graceful hand upon her mouth and begin to slightly shake. She read aloud, her voice cracking at every other word. "Dear faculty and staff. We regret to inform the school that she was found, dead this morning. We offer our deepest sympathies to the friends and family of this dear girl." 

Dead? No, it wasn't possible. How could she, the one who had flowers growing in the deepest parts of her soul, be gone? I couldn't fathom the fact that one of my best friends, was gone. A mere 14 years old. It was true, yes she wasn't in English the previous morning, but I never imagined this. With tears streaming down my cheeks and falling onto my binder, I sniffled slightly, trying to push back my emotions as to not show the world that now, I was more vulnerable than ever. 

The final bell rang, and I sauntered down the hall, as to avoid all people, even my best friend. I couldn't handle it.  I shoved my headphones into my ears turning up the music to full. How could this be? How the hell did this happen? We were having a locker fight two days before, how could she be gone? This cant be happening! No! 

As I watched others sobbing into their friends shirts, gasping for breath, a breath of her. The girl who everyone knew, not very liked, but kind. More kind than you could imagine. I was angry. Not at her, no, she was the lucky one. She got to go and I didn't. How could she do this to me? I can't live in this damned world without her. I was angry at her, but more towards those who cried, but didn't know why they cried. By now my hands were bright red, almost blistering from rubbing them so hard. How dare they, the people who made her life a living hell, the people who didn't even know her, the people who believed everyone else instead of her, how dare they cry. How dare they. 

One week and thousands of unanswered texts to her later, the day came. I sat in the back, the entire chapel filled from the front to the back of the gym. They wheeled her in, no. Not her. A shell of her. Just the body, already drained of everything that used to be her. Two hours and many tears later, the time came for her father to read off the list of her friends. I waited. Oh, there was hers, and there's my best friends. "Thank you to all who came today" wait, what? Where was my name? We were friends for three years they can't forget me it doesn't work that way! They can't do that it's not fair! 

I was silent for the next hour. I didn't expect to go to the grave. At least not when everyone else had left and they began the burial process. With her coffin in the wet mud, I threw in my rose. Yellow, her favourite color. 

Something strange happens in graveyards. Something changes. It's like a piece of your childhood, your innocence is lost, buried with the memories of someone else. Except it wasn't just a piece of myself that was buried. I was buried. 

True Beauty

She was beautiful. Not in the way she walked or talked, but in simply who she was. The way her eyes lit up when you started talking about something she loved, or when she was genuinely happy. She was beautiful, but she was prettier. The other girl was prettier. Not in who she was,  or even in her mind. She was prettier than her in a much more egotistical way. They way she walked, like a graceful swan, the way she talked, like the lace on a wedding veil swaying in the wind. But she was not as beautiful as her. No she could never look as beautiful without trying, or just by waking up, like the other girl could. She would never be as beautiful as her, but at least she was worth it. I was worth it, she was just pretty. That's all she was. 

I See You

I see you sitting alone, almost as if you are waiting for someone to feel a sliver of compassion and take a seat next to you and shower you with their presence. I see you. I see you, the social butterfly of the school, looking so desperate for a friend--someone that you could pour out your deepest darkest secrets to and not be judged by your social status. I see you surrounded by pressure while everyone waits for you to bend and snap in two. I see you. I see you, the teacher who's wife is fighting for her life while the doctors diagnose her with cancer after cancer. I see you, the struggling single parent trying to make ends meet so your children can live a comfortable life, and not one resulting in tears and sorrow. I see you. I see you walk down the hall with your head parallel to the ugly old tiles in the main hallway. I see you, the girl with tears welling up in her eyes as she looks into the mirror turning from side to side-- trying to squish, tuck, and lift just to try and find an angle of yourself that you don't absolutely despise. I see you, the jock who everyone thinks can't even pass his math or science classes because "all you're good at are sports". I see you. I see you, the boy being degraded by the "populars" calling you a nerd and loser, I see you. I see you, the popular girl who is so lonely that she surrounds herself with others because being lonely with someone else sure beats being alone by yourself. I see you. I see you cheating on that test just to be able to pass this class and finally, just this once, get your fathers approval and a pat on the back. I see you. I see you in front of the library, silently, solemnly reading your book of poetry with starry eyes. I see you. I see you, the girl who's sister is the star of the show. I see you. I see you and your friends joke and laugh. I see you. I see you, dear old curmudgeon who just wants his wife back. I see you. I see you wave at that boy thinking that maybe he's finally noticed you, only to find that no, not you, but the pretty little female behind you laughing because you thought that maybe you weren't forgotten. I see you. I see your tired eyes, your sunken spirits, your solemn face resting in your calloused hands. I see you. I see that you work overtime and then some just to provide. I see you come back from the hospital after you lost your precious little baby. I see you. I see you, and I may not smile, wave, or even regard your existence, but I see you. I see you when you aren't looking my way. I see that you're hurting, I see you screaming into the open air cursing the boy or girl you thought you loved, screaming that you will never love him or her again. I see you. You may not feel like I see you, and you may not even know that I exist, but I see you. You aren't alone. You're never alone. We see you.