i'm a cold bitter bitch
a blue-fingered monster
no red in my blood just a dead stare
no smoke in my lungs but i'm begging for more

i fucking flushed it down the toilet
potential locked in a drawer for later, maybe never
i'm only a crooked path to being just like him
a selfish leech who can't even send a mother's day card

she annoys me and i ignore his texts
they're few and far between anyway right?
i'm chasing a persona i'll never embody
rap songs and a sour attitude, the word hate and a silent soul

i'm still here somewhere under this mask of apathy
i promise i love you somewhere, sometimes
but for now i'm trying to be everything you aren't:
a let down, a fuck-up, a fake, a failure

don't say sorry

you become a sorry person
"I apologize"
I was late
I apologize for being late
next time I will not be late
Will you forgive me?

If I can keep my arms wrapped tightly enough around me, locked in place and aching from the pressured stillness then I can stay warm. The cold will not touch me. I wish the change in me this year would manifest physically. Instead of having to hold my heat inside, my warm internal fire could radiate from me, thawing even the coldest of cold hearts. My cheeks could redden and I could smile and the winter air wouldn't touch me. I think this should be possible. If it can be December and I can practically dance my way to math class just because I'm so happy to be there, at school, alive; tickled merely because I can be, anything should be possible.

I think I can honestly say I would give it away though, for certain people. This happiness. It's so powerful it makes me glow and if I could sell it to you just so you could taste it, know it for once. I don't think you have any knowledge of what it's like, to be happy like this. Maybe if you did you'd be willing to fight for it. Depression is a thing that you glorify in your mind, not only before you own it but after you surmount it as well. When you're actually living in it you realize it's worse than you ever realized. It's attraction is romanticized. Happiness, however, is not. Happiness is actually just as wonderful as you can ever imagine it to be, especially when you're lost in the deepest abyss of yourself. And like depression, anyone who wants it can have it. If they work hard enough, that is.

Yeah... I wish I could give it to you

You don't.

Can I have my books back now?

You You You

Miss me
Sometimes
You Do