Circulation

I don't like running, but the chase is the only thing I want with you

Make me miss you
Make me want you
Flirt with other girls in front of me, pretend you didn't see me noticing
Text me one day, ignore me the next
Kiss me, but not too hard

Wait.
You're showing too much interest
You're texting me too much
Stop feeling so much

Give me a chance to catch up

Tonight you told me to kiss you like I meant it
I think I stopped meaning it
Your lips aren't as soft anymore

My 11:11 wish changed tonight
It isn't you anymore and I'm sorry

You pulled me closer and my muscles automatically pulled away as if you stopped running through my veins, telling my blood to boil and my skin to crawl at the very sight of you
It used to

Dammit, love.
I wanted this.

I really did.

You wrapped yourself around my finger too tight
And I guess now would be a good time to tell you I'm claustrophobic

the chains that keep me here

I fear birthdays. I cry every year.

I fear that I'll never get married. I don't possess the strength to trust someone that much. 

He could leave me.

He could find someone better.

He could see me the way I see myself.

I know he'd walk away if he saw that.

I fear that if I died today, no one would know what to say at my funeral.

That no one would care.

That no one would cry.

I fear that I'll settle. That I'll sell myself short. That I'll never reach my potential.

I fear motorcycles. I replay that day in my mind all the time and flying through the air isn't as fun when you don't know if you'll be awake when you hit the ground. 

I fear pavement that isn't so forgiving.

I fear every text you send and every call that I ignore.

I fear what you'd have to say if I picked up.

I fear what your mom thinks of me and how I can never form a coherent sentence when she asks about my plans.

I fear that I don't have plans yet.

I fear what goes on when I close my eyes because my first instinct is always to flinch. 

I fear death and I fear dying before I have a chance to live. High school is a coma that some people never wake up from. I fear that I'll be one of them.

I fear what your eyes will make me do. That I'll believe those apologies that only came because I called you out. 

I fear that my smile will never be real again. I fear that you can tell it's fake. 

And if you can, please don't tell anyone.

They can't know that I forgot what it was like to be happy.

Striking matches

I want you to know that it hurts to watch you cover yourself in gasoline and light that stupid match that I tried to hide on the top shelf of the pantry. But you pushed a chair up and felt around for it with your stubby little fingers and now you're on fire and I can feel the heat from where I stand. I know you think the flames are pretty but they aren't as pretty from my point of view. Not with the charred flesh dancing through them. 

The drugs made you numb to this stuff but doesn't it hurt? Don't you feel ANYTHING? 

I warned you. I told you she was toxic back in April. But those April showers washed away your doubts and those flowers in May seemed just as good to you in black and white.

I knew she'd make you colorblind.

She's got a big, beautiful ring on her finger that matches the chains on your ankles but her kisses make the metal lighter and you still haven't noticed that she threw away the key.

Her mood changes but you blame it on hormones. She's got a whole hell of a lot of hormones. It's not her fault. It's the hormones.

You stopped being you the moment you slid that ring on her finger. 

Now I'm begging you to come back. I miss our lame Saturday nights on my couch watching R rated movies.

I want the old you, not the one covered in flames.

There's a reason I never stood too close to fire.

The dirt that the broom missed

I sat in the corner of the elevator with my head between my knees wishing I would've taken the stairs so I'd have more time to think about what I'd do at the top. But 38 floors was a long way up and I wish I wasn't always in a hurry.

I probably won't ever get on the back of a motorcycle again because I still have scars from the last time I did. And neither of us were wearing helmets.

The problem with falling in love is that when you fall you eventually hit the ground. And no one promised that it would be a soft landing. So I never jumped. 

I've never broken a bone and I don't plan on tarnishing my perfect record falling for you.

You told me to stop being so reserved but I don't trust you when you say you care about me. Because I thought he did Sophomore year and all that got me was numbness without tears and a heart with too much scar tissue.

And I don't think I want to feel everything that love is supposed to bring if there's any chance that I won't get to have it forever because forever passed it's expiration date the day I turned 17.

I'm standing on a ledge here and the only thing holding me is the thought of how much it will hurt after the falling takes my breath away, but you already stole my breath and you didn't even have to push me.

I blame you every time my lungs forget how to do what God put them in my chest to do. 

I guess I shouldn't judge them though because God put me here and I forgot too.

Someone remind me why I haven't jumped yet. 

I think I might soon.

Pinky swear

I won't be everything you've always wanted.

I won't sing on key.

I probably won't be your parents favorite.

And our wedding pictures won't look that great because I've never been photogenic.

I won't be a good mom because I watched a one year old little boy climb up on a table at church today and proceed to fall right off the side and I couldn't hold back the laughter.

I won't always be happy. 

I'm not all that funny but I'm really good at laughing at myself.

I will be there for you in the middle of the night if you need me.

If there's one thing I'm good at it's accepting people for everything they will never be.

I will pay attention to the little things because the small stuff is important to me.

I will hug you until you aren't broken anymore.

I will watch sports with you just to watch the passion in your face and laugh at you while you yell at the TV.

I will always ask you what's wrong and wait until you stop saying nothing.

I will forgive you when you hurt me because I never learned how to hold a grudge.

I will love you with everything I am. Divorce is a huge part of my past but I won't let it dictate my future.

How to be ok

1. Tell yourself that pain is temporary

2. Cry a whole freaking lot

3. Read your journal from 7th grade because all those problems you wrote about will seem insignificant now and it will make you laugh at how naive you were back then

4. Lay on the floor of your bedroom and stare at the ceiling

5. Simultaneously listen to sad songs because they said it better

6. Scream into a pillow. I know, it's cliche but it's necessary

7. Stay away from the fridge and pantry because you don't want to be sad and chubby

8. Mow the lawn as fast as the mower will go. This sounds really weird but I do it and it totally makes me feel better

9. Go workout. Something about sweat, man. It's better than tears

10. Take a shower and talk it over with yourself. No one else really cares about it as much as you do

11. Go on a drive

12. Pull over when the tears interfere with your ability to see the road

13. Turn off the music and stare at the sky. The sky is still there. The sky will be there tomorrow, but your problem can stay in today. Your problem doesn't have to exist tomorrow

14. Go to sleep

15. Make yourself look good and go back to the regular routine. I promise the numbness will stop eating at your fingers like frostbite eventually. Give yourself a little more time to warm up

Maybe..

Maybe someday I'll get over the fact that I let you steal my first kiss like you did. But for some reason I liked it and I let you and now I wish I would've waited for someone who gave a shit about me, but I guess that's the problem with closing your eyes.

Maybe I'll get asked to Senior prom, but right now I'm more worried about figuring out what we're doing for Sadie's because that's in two days and we still haven't ironed out the details. Spontaneity is fun, right?

Maybe one day I'll be able to keep a best friend because I've spent forever trying to find one who I can stay close with for more than 6 months without wanting to rip their hair out and having to start my search over again. I guess I've never been good at long-term anything.

Maybe I'll forget how you kissed me like you meant it. As if I even know what that means. But now you're leaving for two years and I'm proud of the person you've become. I'm just sad that I wasn't a part of helping you get there. I'm sorry I broke up with you over the phone. You didn't deserve that and I didn't deserve you.

Maybe college won't be as bad as I'm anticipating, but I'm planning for the worst. I probably won't know what I want to do with my life by the end of it, but I'm holding out for someone to tell me.

Maybe I'll become a workaholic to avoid getting married because I'm afraid of saying "I love you." And I realized I was in love with him after my fears called him up and told him I wasn't ready, I wasn't old enough, it wasn't right, it wasn't him, it was me, we could still be friends. Or maybe it wasn't love. Maybe it was regret and I was just trying to find a reason why I stayed with him for so long. I'll never find out and I think the unknown is what I fear the most.

Maybe I'll stop resenting Tuesdays.

Maybe you'll stop blaming Disneyland. How could you hate the happiest place on earth?

Maybe I'll move to Seattle where it's rainy so I  never have to choose between yes or no because the gray area is where I intend to make a home.

Maybe you'll take me to Southern California where I left my heart because I never told you, but you know exactly where to find it.

Maybe I'll stop saying maybe because there's so much that can go wrong with maybe.

Puppet strings and credit cards

They say they're different. They say they won't hurt you. We've heard it all before. Those pretty faces with the empty promises.

But some of their faces aren't pretty.

Watching from the sidelines and from the windows with the bullet holes.

The windows that were supposed to be bullet proof, that failed product testing, but somehow still ended up in your front room.

Different. 

Yeah.

Your parents kissed your forehead and handed you the keys to that brand new car and slid that loaded credit card across the counter. They might as well have handed you a loaded gun. They didn't know they were facilitating your addiction to drugs that you hid beneath your athleticism.

And for some reason I didn't see your bloodshot eyes either.

So naive.

And that night was supposed to be the start of something, not the end. I was supposed to mean more to you. You said I did. And I trusted you.

For some reason I get the feeling that I've never been a very good judge of character.

Different.

You connected all the strings and painted my face and oiled my joints so go ahead and make me dance, puppet-master. Just don't break me.

I don't think I can be fixed if I get broken one more time.

I swore I was stronger than this, but my stupid little heart keeps telling me to believe you when you say that you're different.

My stupid little heart fell for your shit, but I sure as hell won't.