Write a Letter, Don’t Send it.

You thought it would be okay to hang out with your ex when we’re together? I don’t care if it was for fucking school. You don’t do that.

I never cry. When I got that text “…She kissed me…” I cried. I couldn’t talk. How am I supposed to respond to this shit?  I’ve been fucked over way too many times.

1. Would not do shit with him. We broke up.

2. Hooked up. “I need about a month to figure things out.” Ended.

3. Didn’t trust me. I didn’t do shit. He thought I did. Broke up with me over a text.

4. Repeat of 2. Worked out well. saw myself falling in love with him. Parents disapproved. Broke up.

5. David. Current. Congratulations for being added to my list, let’s hope this one doesn’t end soon.. I think?

Okay, so you pulled away after she kissed you. That does not make it completely fine. Did you just expect me to get over it? I said that I didn’t want to do this over texting so we’re going to talk in the morning. Prepare to get bitched out.  You’re going to have to work hard for things to go back to the way they were.

You said “So we ok?” I can’t just fucking say that everything is alright, that I forgot how you kissed another girl. I don’t want to even touch you at this point.

People always said that we were “so perfect together, your personalities work so well together!” I still think that that statement is true. But at this moment I want to punch you in the fucking face and I want to fight the bitch who kissed you SO BAD. She fucking taunted me with him yesterday too. Touched his face, “Hey David!” you’re a fucking psycho bitch and I hate you. Why must all of my boyfriends have crazy ex girlfriends?

I’m planning on asking what he would think if I hung out with Joe for some school stuff and he kissed me. How would he fucking feel? And I hope that David currently feels like shit. He admitted that it was a stupid idea to ask Hyman Bitch to help him with his english. I MIGHT be wrong.. but I’m pretty sure that there’s a fucking teacher to help you with that shit? I don’t think I could get cheated on that way.

But good job. I hope you’re fucking happy.

Who Thought?

For half of the time it takes for the world to turn, my world has been turned upside down.

The hope of it returning to it’s percieved image of right is as hopeless as a ghost town.

The Almighty in the mind of whomever wishes to be in contact with Her,

Leaves me confused and blurred, influenced by the much too forced liquor.

But this substance is not seen with any cone or rod,

The One who enforces it is believed to be an act of whom some refer to as God.

To put it in simple terms, your successor’s God is not the same as mine.

You see a man, powerful. Seeing other’s as not meeting a status of sublime.

I see the superior one as a spirit in us all, feminine touch, surrounding the atmosphere,

So, those wishes you label prayers, along with the air we breathe, once said, will dissappear.

False hopes and lost recognition, this unjust world is crumbling in on itself.

Those that recognize this may not end up like the others on what seems like a forgotten shelf.

Too high to see upon, too far away for pity, welcome to the land of sky tinted waters.

Comical?

You see me as a criminal, but I see you as the Warden.

Who knew water could make everything worse.

I don’t need to see a shrink, what needs to shrink is the shelter you’ve attempted to build around me.

You think you know everything about me.

But I’m pretty sure I’d look and act a little more fucked up than usual if you were right.

On the other hand, I submitted a drawing to “The Best 100,” an art contest regarding all of Minnesota. I don’t expect to get in, but it’d be sweet. If the drawing were small enough to scan, I would. It’s a big tree, but instead of regular branches, the ends have arrows, and the tree is dripping into a globe. On each side of the tree, on a string, there’s a moon on one side, and a sun on the other. Hopefully I get in, hopes are high, like my life used to be.

Too Far

You search for relations, transparently aiming for those known as friends.

But the only thing staring back is your reflection.

I don’t know why you look to me, I deny you everytime,

You’re so desperate for a soul, loneliness at it’s prime.

So I escape, helium and all, soaring surrounded by blue.

My yellow face never ceases to rest, seeming to start anew.

Until the close eyed door opens, leaving this all too familiar atmosphere,

into the waters of the unknown, I surface only when the end is near.

Into the light, I share with the rest of the world, dispair, denial, disappointment.

Step onto that grey path, thinking that today might be a day without resentment.

I cling to those with no judgement, seeking approval from one with no point of view.

But I notice the door labeled opportunity closing and expect it to form askew.

As I struggle to fit my thoughts into that small window, I see you walking away.

I never convey my thoughts to you, for you are too far into your one way.

I find myself standing between reality and the point of no return.

If only I knew what to do.

I miss drawing in my free time.

You need help. I don’t know what to do. I want to help, but I don’t have the patience, and I’m sorry for that.
I’m going to start writing and drawing again.