You don’t see me that way, do you?

“I wish i could tie you up in my shoes,
Make you feel unpretty too.
I was told I was beautiful,
But what does that mean to you?”

You don’t think anything of it at all.
We hold hands on the couch.
You don’t think anything of it at all.
Our faces get close, even touch,
Without any kisses.
We just stare,
You don’t think anything of it at all.
The way you hold me, makes me feel so much differently,
Makes me think we aren’t just friends.
But You don’t think anything of it.
At all.
It’s all so repetitive,
The leading on and pretending it never happened.
The ignoring, the backstabbing,
The showing off, saying you do that with every other girl you are friends with,
You don’t think anything of it.
But I do.
And I think about it everyday.
And it sucks.
The way you held me and then held her.
Like you do it all the time, and you do,
Just not with me, right?
If it was, you wouldn’t tell anyone.
And it would just make me hurt.
But I wouldn’t tell anyone either.
The way you look at me when you think I’m not looking,
It makes me think that you might be thinking the same as I do for you.
But maybe you’re just looking at me,
Maybe you don’t see me that way.
The way I think you do,
But you don’t think anything about it at all.
But I do. I think everything about it.
I think of the way you look at me,
The way you used to hold me,
The way you joked with me about dating,
The dirty ways you think,
And the way you don’t think anything of it.
I think of that the most,
But I suppose you don’t.

[insert clever title here]

“Words, how little they mean,
When you’re a little too late.”
- Taylor swift

I would like to say everything’s okay,
But it’s not.
Time is taking it’s sweet time erasing you,
I keep wondering if I’ve ever felt this empty,
This dull, this numb.
I keep wondering when it’s going to end.
Because I’m miserable.
It sucks when someone you haven’t gotten over, has moved on and you haven’t.
It’s tough,
I keep wondering when my time is coming,
When my time runs out,
Because it’s almost unbearable to be here.
All I do is lay down and stare.
At the ceiling,
At the white that’s fading,
The fan that shakes,
Wondering if it will fall.
All while listening to every sad song on my phone.
And going to bed,
Waking up crying from demons that look like you.
I just sit in class, staring,
Thinking of ways of numbing the pain,
The loneliness,
Maybe I want to be sad,
Maybe I want to be broken,
Maybe I want to be saved,
Maybe I want someone to show me that they care.
Maybe that will be enough for me.
It’s only a year and a few months left,
And I’m leaving,
Everyone.
And I won’t tell,
Where I am or who I’m with,
And maybe, just maybe,
I’ll be happy that way.
And hopefully I’ll stick it out till then.

“You said you didn’t wanna see me cry,
but I’ll pretend that I’m alright,
I’m alright.”

Let me do the talking.

“They say too much smoking will change your taste,
Maybe that’s why he’s kissing another girls face.
I wish I has words to encourage and inspire,
But the truth is I’m wrecked, and I’m sad, and I’m tired.”
-Emily Kinney

Let me tell you,
It hurts,
Watching someone you once loved,
Love someone else more than they ever loved you,
Let me tell you,
It hurts.
But that’s the thing isn’t it?
Why do we like to hurt so much?
To remind ourselves that it’s real?
That is was real?
I don’t understand.
Why isn’t letting go so simple?
Because you just can’t take back all the memories,
All of the thoughts,
All of time that was sacrificed,
For that person.
Why can’t it all just go away and make it stop hurting?
Let ourselves move on and find someone else for us to hurt about.
After months of not talking.
Were we waiting for the right moment?
I suppose there isn’t one,
That waiting for the right moment just means you’re waiting forever.
When the time finally comes,
Is there really anything to say at all?
You make conversation about work and the weather,
As if everything’s okay,
When really, all you need to say is,
Say you’re gonna forget me,
Say you’ll erase me from your mind.
Because I want so much to be rid of
You.
But sometimes, there’s nothing left to
say.
All you want now is to just be left alone.
Leave yourself to be jealous and alone.
Even though that’s what you’re scared of, isn’t it?
Why can’t they just come back and make up the time.
Why can’t we pretend were in a movie where the sad part is over and you come back to me.
Why isn’t it simple.
I don’t understand.
Maybe it’s just me.
Maybe I’m being dramatic and bitter and maybe I’ve got it all wrong.
That I can understand.

My Favorite Sweater.

It’s getting to autumn,
It’s getting a little colder,
I think it’s time to get out my favorite sweater.
The one that’s stretched out,
Though it’s fitted to my body,
And fits me better than a boys hand holding mine.
The one that makes my eyes seem a little less sad,
And a little more bright,
Because I’m in my favorite sweater.
The one where i can lay my head on my hand, I can smell pumpkin spice and cold nights.
Then December,
The one where I remember when I was trying to be sexy and seduce you, I was leaning my body against the wall and tried to pulled you close to me, but I ended up hitting my head against the wall and you called me a klutz and we laughed.
You still teased me about it.
Then in February, you didn’t like my sweater anymore as much as I did.
Said it wasn’t red for love, it wasn’t perfect anymore.
But I didn’t care, love isn’t perfect, neither is a sweater.
When I pulled it out of my closet today,
It hit me,
Everything; all the memories in this sweater.
All of our nights out,
and our nights in.
Here’s to the nights we shared,
And to the night you left. Me.
When April came to put away the sweater,
I felt like I was putting away us.
When I held onto you and begged you to stay,
You didn’t.
But you didn’t take my sweater with you.
I get a little upset, but it goes away.
Five months pass,
I haven’t looked at the sweater,
I haven’t looked at you.
I don’t want too,
All the sweater did was make me happy,
It fit me,
But you, you fit me better than my favorite sweater.
I’m walking down the road, and I just look at the field that we used to walk in,
Now it’s ugly. It’s dry, plain.
But it’s okay,
Because now I can wear my favorite sweater,
With the jeans that are ripped just right,
And I’m comfy,
Secure, and it has a touch of perfect.
But you know,
I might have given up my sweater,
If you hadn’t given up on me.
I wish I could tell you words to encourage and inspire,
But the truth is
I’m wrecked,
And I’m sad,
And I’m tired.

The “Happiest” Day Of My Life.

“That’s one thing about expectations,
You’ll always be a little disappointed.”

The happiest day of your life?
It makes you wonder what really was and what you think it was.
Maybe it was getting a pet for the first time and claiming it yours,
Maybe it was meeting someone for the first time and feeling like your life has changed.
Maybe getting a tattoo to represent your struggle.
I’m constantly torn on thinking,
“What has been the best day of my life?”
Now, I know it’s only been 16 years, and I know that’s not a lot of time.
Maybe it was when I was four,
Going to Disney world and meeting my favorite princesses,
Or getting my first cat and didn’t know what to name it,
So I named it myow.
Maybe it was the time when I realized I only have a few years of staying with family then moving on by myself.
Maybe it was the first time I didn’t use “maybe” the whole day.
I don’t know.
But it just gets me thinking.
What if the day that I thought would be the best of my life, turns out it wasn’t at all. I just thought it was.
Now, I know many people don’t over think and over-analyze things like I do.
Maybe the best day of my life hasn’t happened,
Maybe it has and I just don’t know it.
I’m always thinking about these things and it always brings me down,
But I can’t stop thinking about them. It instantly brings me stress and anxiety,
Which I obviously don’t need right now.
I’m just unhappy and don’t know how to fix it.
I’m trying to tell myself that it’ll pass, that I’ll be alright in a few weeks, months, or even years.
And that’s fucking ridiculous,
I’m impatient and I would rather be happy now than trying to find things to make myself numb.
Because it sucks. It really does.
I can’t finish my book,
Let alone write a good blog post,
Because I feel empty. And I don’t know what to do.
That’s all I have to say for now, I guess. I have more but it’s just repetitive and annoying to me.
Have a good day loves.

Comparisons

“Not knowing stuff makes it less complicated.”

I feel like I’m in a competition I’ll never win.
I know every girl has felt like this.
I just feel not good enough,
Not superior to you,
I feel like at any point I can crash into a million pieces and you won’t know what to do because I’ll lash out at you and push you away.
And I don’t mean to do that.
And I know I’m not supposed to feel this way, and honesty,
It all comes down to one guy.
A guy I’ve spent a year with,
And another year getting over.
Talking and venting with people that could care less,
That didn’t listen.
And then,
I feel like you’re making me forget the hurt,
The ache I always used to have,
The emptiness.
And I feel it’s way too early.
I’ve already told you half my secrets,
My dreams,
My failures, your failures.
The way my face gets red way too much,
Ones that I wouldn’t tell anyone else,
You were just patient,
You listened.
And I feel like that’s bad,
I’m only seeing this now.
I’ve done so much to build a wall around myself with a scowl on my face and a bitchy attitude.
And just when I was secure in my secret place,
You come in,
And slam it down, so easily.
And I’m still wondering how the hell you did that.
And now we’ve been talking for a week.
It’s nearly two in the morning,
And I’m up,
Thinking about the way you talk.
You’re eyes,
I can never tell if they are grey or green.
The way your shyness reflects off your smile.
The dip in your chin,
I’m thinking about the way you excite me,
The way I’m happy to get up in the morning, and not dread seeing the world as horrible.
Even though it is.
You can instantly pick up my mood,
Just by a simple text, that isn’t more than a sentence.
And that scares me.
And every time I almost bring him up,
You stop me and talk about your favorite games to play,
And I feel that getting to know me
Wasn’t one of them.
I end up comparing,
One by one,
Every guy that I see,
Every guy I get to know,
I compare them to him,
And they never make it. Ever,
Not one.
And maybe they weren’t meant too.
I feel my friends looking at me,
And smiling,
Because they know I’m not miserable anymore,
Other than when you aren’t talking to me.
I’m a little less mad,
At myself, at life,
And a little more thankful of everything.
And thankful I’ve met you.
Out of no where, completely unexpected,
Even when we did first talk,
I didn’t expect anything,
Because I was still doubtful,
And I was still hurt.
And maybe I still am,
I always will be in some places.
Maybe it was good that it wasn’t expected,
It wouldn’t have made it better than it already is.
I still get that moment,
When I end up comparing,
And I knew you weren’t like him.
For the first time,
I think you’re better,
And I’m a little shocked,
But I’m a little not,
Because each time I was comparing similarities,
Not differences.
And I’ve figured out,
That it didn’t work because me and him weren’t remotely similar.
We were different.
Then I look at you,
And were completely the same.
It makes sense,
Probably only to me.
So I’m tired,
I’m mumbling,
And bullshitting,
And I hope if you ever read this,
You’ll understand.
And know that I’m not ready to devote my life to you,
Or declare my love,
Even though you haven’t asked me too.
You have to understand what I feel comfortable with talking about,
And I suppose you’ll know everything in time.
And I feel like I’m already jumping in head first,
Not afraid of commitment or brokenness.
Know if at any time I get like this,
you can’t freak out,
Or shut me out.
I don’t know what we are,
But I can’t wait to find out.
I think you’re going to be very good for me.

Dancers

03-dancers
“Here we are again,
In the middle of the night,
We’re dancing ’round the kitchen
In the refrigerator light,
Down the stairs,
I was there,
I remember it,
All too well.”
-t swift

Dancers,
The one career that gives girls high expectations and thinks they will be a professional when it’s a one in a million chance.
Yet, every girl thinks of doing it at some point in their life.
And lately, I’ve been inspired by it.
They can be graceful,
Or horrible.
And yet, there’s something about it that runs through my veins,
Something that I haven’t done since I was eight,
Suddenly peaked my interest.
They move to a rhythm,
They move to a beat,
They hear a song and they can instantly move to it.
There are so many kinds of dance it’s hard to keep up.
But my best friend, and her sister,
They both dance,
And even though they are competitive and one doesn’t dance anymore,
I just think of the way they dance and the way I wish I could do that without looking like an awkward stick.
The way they beautifully move, not any hair out of place,
It’s so unforgettable,And so crazy to think about.
Doing splits that make me hurt by looking at them,
Going on pointes,
And managing to still look perfect.
I feel like each dancer has a song,
And each song has a perfect listener,
And in that moment,
The theme song for that moment in your life,
It could last,
It could not.
But that choice is theirs,
And I think that’s so intriguing.
This can’t just be me here.
To me,
It’s like reading a book.
Or sleeping.
And some moment in your life,
You forget everything entirely for a moment,
And you just let it take you away to another world,
With no worries,
And it’s peaceful.
And in that moment, no one else matters but you,
And that’s when you cannot waste that moment or let it go.
So try not to.