It's like wanting to scream but air won't fill my lungs,  empty voices ringing through my head a familiar hum, Each day the same as the last all blurring into one. I begin to wonder if it will get better, if I am the only one. Meaningless words tumble from my tongue, laced with anger and regret from what has been done. 

it'll get better

it'll get better

it'll get better

it'll get better

it'll get better 

it'll get better 

it'll get better 

there's plenty of disappointment more than enough to get around do I even have the energy to be angry anymore. I go into the sun but I feel no heat, it's the same everywhere. What kind of medicine do i need to feel something that won't push me over the edge, has the future ever been anything close then what we said?  Was it ever something significant, oh god. I thought home was supposed to keep us safe. I teeter walking this thin fraying wire trying to hold onto something

it'll get better

it'll get better

it'll get better

it'll get better 

it'll get better 

I whisper to myself through cracked lips.  it's been 60 days or more since I left, maybe more the days are all the same. Living quietly safely inside making plans to make a life remembering all of it, memories hanging over me like bricks. I don't know how to go on, I lay in my bed in my cold sheets trying to make living better. I can't even sleep in silence when my head is so loud, and all it does it echo. picking fights with myself waiting for the outcome to change. 

it'll get better 

it's going to 

nothing works, how long can I keep lying to myself I can't even make myself cry anymore no longer do I have friends nor enemies I have pushed away everyone from around me. I have no way to see more clearly all I take is loss and no gain this world must be godless because all I see is pain everywhere. 

i'm all alone 

we are strangers

There's this funny unspoken rule of being friends, and how falls apart as soon as theres something more. Burned a bridge and made another, things are odd like that. For some reason or another things ended, but I think that it's the memory of the way it felt that haunts most people. We all seem to use things to make us feel whole, may that be religion,  art, people, there's this void that we are born with.  And it grows bigger and smaller and sometimes we even forget it's there.  I don't know what I fill mine with anymore. Ideas of people perhaps,  real life was always too real for my tastes.  But then isn't that all too true for everyone. I want to die and I want to be alive. I dream about burning bridges and starting over, wishing that I had been born into a different situation because I am stupidly in love with someone who is only half real. I don't know if I could ever really love the real him outside of my head, maybe it's just an idea with a face. I want to die with all of my being, I want this to be over. The world is beautiful but i've really had enough. I don't want this anymore, any of it. But when it comes to pulling the trigger, I find I cannot.
And I hate myself for it.
Some pitiful Monday morning wishing that I could weave the fabrics of time, to be someone else somewhere else. I find myself wandering around the world without a thought in my mind, only places and people I could have been.  With a vague remembrance of the people I've met and people I've been- all blur together in my mind.
I wish I could erase, not the people.  But the thoughts and dreams that came along.
They're burned behind my eyes like a drunken tattoo full of regret that I'm forced to stare at every day.

the broken chair

Noisy and alone,
I am queen of all my sins past,
Am I still lost?
Once I was beautiful
now,
I am myself. 
Sitting on a broken wooden chair,
Noisy and alone. 

The ferris wheel

It's like missing a place you've never been to,
But when you get there nothing's the same.

Like crying over a movie,
for people who you can always blame.

It was like building a wooden heart up,
to sail it into the fire lit sunset.
The only hope we have is the one we remember,
but it tastes like smoke and regret in my lungs.

Like seeing another life you were meant to live,
but upon arrival you were too late.

         

the broken carousel

I loved the way you would say my name,
as if it was safe in your mouth.
you are the one
I wanted most to stay

but time
can never be kept at bay

the more it goes
the more it's gone
the more it takes

You are a dream I wish I hadn't slept through
within it i fell deeper than your heart would care to let you.
I thought you were a keeper, till the day our feet fell through
and hit the ground harder than dreams should let you

gravel face first
reading all the books i've read about,
I see artwork, hang on the hooks
find the love, i've only read about in books.
Like the sun to the night, a momentary gold tarnished in the nooks.

The lonely kite lost in flight,
someone once flew.
the briefest moment-
the longest in my mind.
How I envy the half of me that lived,
before loves dues.

A crumpled note tossed on my bedroom floor,
and old photograph pressed between a book.
I lie waiting to be found-
lost things to be found and remember what they once meant to you.

Before a carousal of memories spinning round-
when history was before us
now a sad overplayed verse.

As I start to wake,
I loved with my wayward heart,
until the day it broke.

10/13/14

   Today has been odd, I don't know if it's the combination of exhaustion and nostalgia but I have found myself in quite the mood today. I guess you could call where I am at happy, although I would could classify it as content. My relationship is finally where I want it to be, oddly enough after I tried to end it. I guess it takes almost losing someone to find value in them, I don't know if that should be something that okay or not. I'm not going to over think it, after all we've been though this is the last time, it isn't something that I'm lying to myself about either. I have't thought about a lot lately, it's been a swirl of alcohol and late nights where the stars hide behind the clouds and faces swirl, kisses are given, and forgotten, and I forget who I am. I can see how in the books that I read why Vampires would choose to reside here.  Yet I know who I love but I cannot stand to not be loved back, that is not something I think anyone is equipped to handle. Yet I know that it happens more times than anyone would like to think about.  It would be too easy to lose myself here and forget it in the starless night sky. 
   I bought candles at Walmart on some rushed occasion to get my teammates candy for a 'secret pumpkin' excuse, and I thought about Nick, and those who I've lost. I guess lost isn't the right terminology to use though, losing something that isn't yours isn't losing at all really. Simply an empty hum in my brain where they used to be. The good die young and the rest of us are damned to live in this misery that we create, at least that's what I like to tell myself.
   Death is strange, I recently watched a play about it, and it was about how when we're gone we have infinite knowledge but cannot move on and I've come to the conclusion that if there is a god he must be asleep.  I hope those who decided to leave and those who were swept out the door without their consent, are happy. Wherever they may find themselves. 

8/24/14

I'm so tired of thinking, it's all  lost time that is never found. Therefore without grace, chocked full of sympathetic irony; trying to close the gaps in the past because we are not that yet.  People come and go like faces on subways that i've never been on at 3 am because I live in a new money suburbia full of blonde women and black Suburbans, something I find most fitting to the California stereotype. I've come to find this faux way of life seems to breed an egregious form of human being. Or quite possibly I am bitter, but it seems that those I have felt the closest to, due to the measure of time I have known them for,  really mean nothing at all. 
To put it quite simply, we have known each other for a long time. And that was all. It seems that as I grow older I realize that this rings more and more true. I do not know why humans put some sort of abysmal meaning behind time. There isn't anything incomprehensible that's all it is, days and hours and months, and the past is becoming a fog within me and i'm constantly stuck wandering through it. But who am I to make assumptions on the rest of the world, the part that I have seen for my self is so infinitesimal that for being alive for almost two decades I have yet to live. Which I find slightly disturbing, something I want to let go, but can't quite bring myself to. So I have come to the conclusion that I should love myself, so no one has to. It seems that my presence in most areas are insignificant. Filled with this subconscious effort not to succeed, because I am hellbent on the idea that I do not have much time left. "I hate you, don't leave me alone."  I feel like there's a name for that, some sort of mental disorder that I read about somewhere, anything that you do is now a severe disorder, or extreme character flaw. Nobody has the leisure to die of old age. Everything has a diagnoses. And as I sit in this empty florescent lit library on a Sunday night I start to wonder why this is even relevant, I understand how contradictory it sounds to want nothing but change but fear it with all of your being. The allure of starting over was always too much temptation over me, but now I am here. I am no longer relevant in any of these peoples lives, not that I was before contrary to how I have felt. Suddenly my past is following me, why are decisions made always inedibly the wrong ones one way or another. Why did something I want not want me until I was gone, although that is an entirely different topic completely. The amount I have already wrote about it is painfully pathetic. 
Everyone wants to be loved in one way or another, but why is it that we go to sleep in all of the wrong peoples beds at night. So now I am here, one thousand miles away from my home. And there is still something empty inside of me.  
I cannot fill the cracks.