If my life was a Microsoft Word Document
From this place.
This terrible day.
And start over.
I Still RememberThose late nights
And wanting so badly
To just stop thinking
And stop hurting
And sitting on my bed
And picking up the tiny blade
And holding out my wrist
And running the blade across my skin, barely touching it
And doing it again, pushing harder this time
And doing it again and again
Until I saw a tiny bead of blood form
And feeling the sharp pain
And then feeling the rush of endorphins
And wiping away the blood
And feeling at peace
As I admired
What I had done
Ramblings 1 On Procrastination and the Future
Man, I sure am lucky I'm smart.
I don't care about school. I hardly try at all. I procrastinate. I don't study for tests. I don't do extra credit work. I do the bare minimum, and just that. My goal is only to pass- just get a D, so I can move on to the next grade, and the next, and the next, and so on until I graduate high school.
I don't want to go to college. God knows my parents would kill me if I don't. But I just don't see a reason to. I'm sure I can find some job, some career, some way to make money.
Maybe I won't even need a job to get money. Maybe I'll learn to count cards and win big at Blackjack. Maybe I'll become a master thief. Maybe I'll make a living doing odd jobs for my neighbors.
Maybe I won't even have neighbors- maybe I'll live on the streets and be a drifter, a vagabond. Never sure where my next meal is coming from, just being satisfied if it comes at all.
Maybe I'm being absurd. Maybe while I sit here thinking about what I
BlackMost people think black is scary
But they're wrong.
Black isn't scary;
It's the not knowing that's scary.
The not knowing what's out there
Of your nose.
But that doesn't bother me.
Because although I can't see what's hiding out there,
They can't see me
Fingertips and Working HardAn Essay on Fingertips and Working Hard
Sometimes when I'm feeling sad or worthless, I'll just feel the pads of the fingers of my left hand, tapping their hardened tips with my thumb one at a time, down the line. Index, middle, ring, pinky. Pinky, ring, middle, index. Often I think that they're the only proof that I've worked hard at anything in my life.
I mean, I have my multitude of perfect straight-A report cards, but I've never really tried hard in school. It just comes naturally. And even if I did work for my grades, it wouldn't be because I wanted to do well in school; it would be because I had to do well in school.
The same goes for almost everything else in my life. If I like something, then I'm automatically great at it. If I don't like something, I'm still great at doing it. My whole life, I've never had to work and practice and study to be able to do anything.
But I couldn't always play guitar. The first time I picked up my dad's 20-year-old Fannon, the
MusicIf you're out of the loop,
Music is magic.
But when you're in on the secret,
It's simply a science.
The River of WordsSometimes
When I write,
The words blend together
Into a river of sounds.
The river flows
Like a well worded poem.
The writing is perfection.
If I lose
My train of thought,
The river is reduced
To a trickle.
If I get writer's block,
More Than FriendsI'll hold you in my hands forever
Grasp you tight, make sure I never
Let you go again.
Let's be more than friends.
Beautiful MusicOne day, a man sat down on a bench in the city next to a young woman. The woman had a set of iPod earphones in. When the man sat down, the woman turned and smiled at him kindly.
The man, being a man who enjoys music, spoke to the woman. "I hope you don't mind me asking," he said, "But what is it that you're listening to?"
"Oh, I'm listening to beautiful music," the woman replied.
The man wasn't satisfied by this answer. "Well, generally that's what people like to listen to. I meant more specifically. Is it by an artist I'm likely to know?"
"You may know the artist, but I doubt you've listened to this music. People rarely do," she answered.
Once again, the man wasn't entirely satisfied with her vague reply. "If you don't mind, may I listen to this song? I love to find out about new artists and music, especially if it's someone that isn't popular."
"Of course you can listen to it," the woman said happily.
"Well then, may I have one of your ear buds so I may hear this beautiful music?" Th
You are EverythingYou are amazing.
You are the smiling face,
That gave that kid
Better hope for this place.
You are the helping hand,
Even if you didn’t know it,
That helped everything turn out
Better than planned.
You are the voice
That helped someone
Make a vital choice.
You are the joke
That made them laugh
And gave them that stroke
Of happiness that they needed.
You are the bright eyes
That light the way,
A lantern of hope
Through the fog of lies.
You are their push towards
Their positive afterwards.
And you are far from worthless.
Are the most important person
In the world.
We are all characters
In someone else’s story.
That pivotal point,
That pushes them from misery,
And leads them to their glory.
Past Tense BluesWases
So are weres;
And it's the becauses
That make them feel
That much worse.
You're Going to be Okay.It’s not your fault.
It’s not what you deserve.
Don’t think that way,
Because one day,
This won’t matter anyways.
Keep your head held high for now,
I know it hurts,
Words can feel suffocating.
As you feel like your lungs are collapsing,
Under the weight of the pain,
In your chest.
I know it stings,
And it seems like it takes forever for the bell to ring.
As you count down the hours.
But it doesn’t matter.
When you just go home,
To sit in your room alone.
Because words unlike bruises don’t go away.
Once they are said they are here to stay.
And silence is excruciating.
But being in a crowd of violent stares,
Is no better.
So where do you go?
Is the question you’ll never know.
But don’t give up just yet!
Things will not always be like this.
Yes, today seems hopeless.
Tomorrow seems worse.
One more day of hearing another hateful word.
Might make your head explode,
And sometimes you want to drive yourself completely off the road.
I Will Love MyselfSilence was at my doorstep.
Rain fell from the storms of my eyes
and hit the cold earth of my cheeks.
Sunlight fell down my face
in gentle waves.
And blood tinted lips
smiled only slightly.
The gentle spring
that bloomed inside my chest
had begun to grow
and replace the winter
whose frost had held tightly
onto my heart.
Silence was welcome.
Tears were shed in joy.
Sunlight was here to warm
and blood to live.
This was it.
I had made it.
I know who I am.
I locked you in my closet,
in the recesses of my mind.
I kept you in the dark,
I kept you in the stagnant, static,
strangling air for what seemed like
years because you couldn't
remember what day looked like anymore.
(You would sit facing the wall,
scratching letters into the paint,
nails curling and cracking upward.
"I love you,
I love you,
I love you," over and over until
you would bleed from your eyes
because you couldn't
keep them open anymore.
That paint was toxic.
You fed off the fumes of dried
polymer and you were so sure that
if you tried hard enough
the words would go through
It must've taken months.
The world traveled around the sun
like you traveled around me,
hovering from a distance
so that I wouldn't burn you.
They all say that it was my
gravity that pulled you
toward me, but it was always you,
They say love is blind and I believe it.
But we didn't start out
loving each other like we do now.
Eat Something, PleaseIt's your fault, you know.
It's you who's spewing your guts into the toilet,
like powdery snow.
Every day you hit the bathroom floor,
grasp the porcelain rims,
and your vomit echo through the door.
I hate it! I hate it, more than anything in the world.
I wish you could just tape your mouth shut,
and your noises I could ignore.
It's all about you, and the agony you've been through,
but through your selfishness and saliva,
I hope you realize I suffer too.
I stay by your side when you treat me like crap.
When you scream at me and yell,
I've always had your back.
How I wish I could purge when life gets too tough,
I wish I could be weak like you,
but my strength is just too much.
How wonderful it would be, if you could take my place,
and when you saw your broken form,
then you would see the pathetic look on your face.
But “plop, plop, plop” your vomit continues to roar,
and through the repetitive screech,
how I wish I could slam the door.
I wish I had the strength to leave your
I Won't Let You Become Like MeI saw you fall to the floor.
Because you couldn’t take this anymore.
You laid there and said to me,
Through tears that fell from your eyes,
“Who cares if I were to die?”
Reminding me of those hundreds of times,
I’ve seen people bend and break.
I’ve gotten so used to smiles that are nothing more than fake.
I remembered standing by silently,
Watching everyone collapse around me.
Seeing bottles scattered around,
Broken glass covered the ground.
And I wondered to myself,
“Is he ever going to get better?”
And I watched you as you died,
Slowly tearing yourself apart from the inside.
Memories are still flickering,
Behind my eyes.
I suddenly remember my own cries,
For someone to save me.
Because I was so close to falling,
That the abyss seemed more inviting,
Than trying to hang on for a moment longer.
Because my arms were too tired,
To hold on.
I am back in reality,
Watching you fade away.
And I see myself,
And the countless other people I’ve wit
Stay with meDreams falling apart
Like a castle of cards
Ghosts of the past
Refusing to go away
And the pain of loss
Getting worse each day
This is not
What life should be
This is a nightmare
And I want to wake up
So please don't leave me
When I need you the most
untitled (broken records don't have names)my fingers flutter sunrise butterflies,
floating in the morning
as it breaks through the gloom
that came post-gloaming.
but i confess,
i have no grasp
on what to do with daylight
you were a drop of sunlight
reflected in my cloudy-sky eyes
eventually you became too
good for me, and i gave up
my waxed wings are still intact, but
my shoulders are too sore from
carrying this deadweight with an
obnoxious, obstinate heartbeat
and how are you faring this golden afternoon?
you will never answer and yet
my mind loops broken records,
asking as if you could hear.
light halos the plain beneath my feet
but i shy away from sunshine,
an icarus-inherited fear of falling
or just of
because we were supposed to
be something beautiful, something
worth falling for
(or you were, at least, and there is
no way to ask if you fell hard enough)
but shattered cds still lie on the floor
collecting the sunlight that i
don't know what to do with
because i can't spend it on you, anymore.