quarter.

One quarter of “just fine” has gotten me pretty far. And as I looked back at those old letters, books, notes… memories, I cried. I cannot physically remember the day that I changed. But I promise I did, and I just want you to realize that I’m not the person you stopped talking to anymore. I am full. I am deep. I am complete. Replace the new me with that void.

cheatED

My eyes became oceans yesterday, my thoughts a sunken ship. Full of skeletons, buried treasure, algae and coral and fish. Draining and spilling out like a basin, overfilled with emotion. I am not my own. I am empty.

People say that the eyes are the windows to the soul. In an attempt to stop appearing like I care, I’ve gouged them out. I am empty.

scathing~

The few hours we sat alone in the dark and we whispered everything and you smiled and my insides turned and I drove you home and you smiled good night before you left my car.  Who am I even.

How do you honestly explain the feeling of unrequited love? (You can’t).

That’s why I’m not okay.

downShifting

Rubblesifting.
downShifting.

What has become of humans? I’ve never been more puzzled but I can tell by these lights that the world is not. Constantly bombarded and passed and zoomed by unrelenting tangibles. You are not tangible. You are not passing by.

I keep staring at your mountain of possessions (now mine). I wonder what would happen if I set this rubble ablaze–the light would be unrelenting.

Bottomless:

I am empty, lacking words.

I am dry.

Gusts.

Seventeen

I wasn’t sure if I was flattered or offended. I don’t think you were sure either. January is coming soon, I promise.

And if I could run forward through time and bring it closer to us, I swear I would. Would you love me, then?

Flight patterns

As I shut the door to your house I slowly lifted off my feet and began flying. I migrated south. Hopefully my nest will be waiting for me, a shell of what it was two months ago. I can rebuild this without you.

Maybe one day while heading North I’ll remember “us”… maybe.

Humidity

I don’t like humidity. And you usually remind me of it.

It’s oppressive and it doesn’t give a shit if it makes me cry (sound familiar?). I’ve never loathed being with someone, especially the way I did a few days ago.

Dear Humidity, stop being a part of my summer if all you’re going to do is ruin it.

Why didn’t I realize this.

Maybe this is why every single person was meant to die alone.

We can’t do this.

If only.

Every beat adds tension and tension only brings emotion.

I’ve never heard you scream so loud and mean it. Ribbons of violence don’t commonly appear in such great numbers. The words “I can’t” only tell me one thing: winter starts now.

There will be no Autumn. Trees will die and take their leaves and we’ll be left with echoes and bare branches.