gutted like the fish i don't eat

thoughts run rampant, self-deprecating ideologies stampeding for attention
it's giving me a headache
i don't know who "they" are but they told me to fake it 'til i make it
i do not believe that is something i can do

it's easier for me to spill my soul to strangers than to loved ones
contradictorily, i'm only myself when there's trust
all my friends have left to explore new and exciting chapters
i've been hallowed out
gutted

i've called utah home for so long now
but it's not home without the people that make it so
all my bravado, my so-called strength
has shattered without them
and i feel misplaced
lost like the keys i put on my nightstand
really, they'd been in my purse the whole time
but let's check the countertops, that's where i put them, right?

i don't want to fill this hole with meaningless things
what a migraine

maybe i'm just not happy

I don't want to live a life where my greatest fear is being left alone with my thoughts.

gliese 581

The universe is too vast to connect all the dots but our ancestors tried anyways.

I'm a Libra, if you were curious about my horoscope [because I'm not]. I hate and love it when they try to tell me who I am. How could the stars know? I don't even know. I've never known. That constellation, dimmed this time of year by the sun, isn't close enough together in all actuality to mean anything to me. Lightyears: how far light travels in a year. Do you know how far light travels in a second? Even that's too much.

The sky often baffles me. But that's okay, because people baffle me too. How is it that I have friends even more amazing than the sky? Why am I so fortunate? If I had the means to feed the starving, would I do it? I don't know. There's always that just in case. Always a what if. Even with all these compliments comparing me to whatever flower, a plant is insignificant in the scheme of things. But my friends have entire galaxies hidden away under their fingernails.

Beam me up. Embrace the sun and pretend like it doesn't hurt you. I'm 20 now. Are there even any stars close enough to witness my birth? 20 lightyears, how bout it? Google's gonna help me out with this one: Gliese 581. Gliese saw everything. And guess what? It's in constellation Libra; that's my sign. Gliese, I'm looking up at you. Sorry I didn't realize you were there 'til now. You've been there from the beginning, huh? You're seeing it all. You're watching me tell my first lie and seeing me fall down for the first time. I got back up, right? I must've, to be stumbling around these days. There's more in store for you, Gliese. I hope you aren't disappointed with what you see. Gliese, you're not my replacement for God. But still. Thank you for being here.

I guess it's refreshing to know that the universe is so vast but I'm connecting the dots anyways. Not all come back to me, but that's not the point. The point is that the important people are stardust, and everyone has got someone who thinks they're the whole damned universe.

i'm not even a fighter

your eyes are weapons of mass destruction

i see explosions in your pupils or maybe that's just my heartbeat

head's light like bullets

skin set on radioactive at the touch of my fingertips to your palm

vision glazed over with the image of hydrogen bombs erupting at the bottom of the ocean

you're a dangerous one 

a thief

a sly little knife, quiet like ice 'til the avalanche rolls down the mountainside

kamikaze, or maybe not

the red blood cells taking host in my veins are unstable

all because of a pair of green eyes

oxygen, i need oxygen

i need your voice

the roll of peace treaties off your tongue

cease fire

or at least give me some sort of sign that this war isn't completely one-sided

do these brown eyes look like modern warfare?

brown, like the haze of smoke over the sun?

wild fires in domestic places?

blanketed ash?

i'll fight with my bare hands if i have to

just fight back like you feel threatened the same way i do

hell in your head

give me an inch, and i'll take the whole damn universe
i'm not lucky and i'm not kind, and i'm pretty sure hell isn't a place you go to
'cause it's inside you
and you can hide it all you like, but the burning in your veins is a heavyset reminder
i was a little girl when my neighbor swore to God that she didn't know
my mom told me not to swear to God
right then i swore to never swear but damn it all - that's the problem

there's so many things plaguing my mind and if time travel were real
well,
that's just it, isn't it?
i wouldn't do anything to rid hell from my veins
give me an inch, and i'd decline
you'd insist

and that's when i'd come in to rob you of the whole damn universe one inch at a time

another letter to my insecurities

Insecurities,

You need soul. Enough for the devil to hate you.

You've been so reflective since you've discovered that Sean Daley dropped a new album. You put it on repeat. Atmosphere's done it again, this time he's provided you with a version where the explicits won't taint you. And I know I'm supposed to be talking to myself here, but if you've never listened to Atmosphere - you should.

Get out of bed and do something.

You've locked yourself away in solitary confinement, and you say it's hard to do your hair and go out. Yes, your bed's been getting real comfortable with the contours of your body. But it's the opposite for your soul. You need soul. You need the devil to hate you.

Afraid of responsibilities? Who isn't? Do you hear yourself? It's like you're thirteen-years-old again: slightly annoying and lazy as hell.

You want to cry, but you can't. You don't know why, but it remains. I know why. You're hoping the tears will baptize you. That's a fact.

Pick yourself up and put on some pants today. That's the least you could do.

You need soul. You ain't gonna find it on your computer screen. Soul is out there, and you should be too. Get out there and I promise that one day you will cry. Maybe the tears will baptize you - hell if I know. Just don't stumble into the abyss again, okay?

Sincerely,

55/3652

I felt so much when I was 15 and I feel so much now and I'll never stop feeling probably and my bones will even feel relief when the aching stops.

My bones will even feel the need to take up the mantle in my resting place.

My bones will even feel hallow and cold, but they will feel so much.

I've got about 55 days left of being a teenager, and the number 20 is beginning to scare me so much that it hurts.

The years seem to go by more quickly and that frightens me.

The days seem to grow longer and that frightens me.

55 days until I'm no longer a teenager, and I've still never fallen in love. Yes, the number 20 terrifies me. Why couldn't I have fallen in love? My bones are still here, but my veins feel dry and my heart is a desert.

And so far the only person I know who loves the desert is me.