We wasted our youth on numbing the pain with alcohol and cigarettes.
We were young and naive.
You were charming, I was a mess, and we jumped into the flames together.

We wasted our twenties on screaming into almost full answering machines and bars with mindless conversations.
We were wild and free.
You were a mess, I was  fed up, so we danced down dark alleys together singing rage filled songs to the moon.

We were best friends; we were trying to fight the same battle with scars across our wrists and blacked out livers as mementos from this war.
We were family;  we were just filling up boxes with old pictures of smiling and happy birthday cards from a mother who was never around.
We were lovers; trying to scream ourselves back into each others arms in hope that we could be the heroes we always wanted.

We were the kids your parents warned you about.
The ones with the broken past and the empty futures they said.
The ones with the alcohol addictions and the drugs habits we refused to kick they said.
The ones who lived in the night, who danced in the shadows but dreamed of the next morning they would have to make it through.

Cheers to numbing the pain at the expense of our livers and wasting our youth on impossible dreams.

I'm sorry, but,  I think I lost the set of rules that said I wasn't allowed to pick up the phone and call you when I felt like It.
I'm sorry, but, I think I lost the rule book that said I was only allowed to text you every two days or so.

We are in the new.
We are the modern dating - the **** dating- the "I like you right now but maybe not tomorrow" dating.
We are in the "I think I'm in love with you but don't actually know you" dating.

Maybe I'm a little pessimistic and sad and a little *******.
Maybe I'm just tired of my heart getting destroyed.
Maybe I just want someone to really get to know me instead of asking to see my ****.

I'm sorry, but, maybe you didn't get it when I said I wanted something real- no games, no playing around.
I'm sorry, but, maybe you didn't hear me when I said I want to get to know you or maybe you just ignored that part.

We are the new.
We are the Modern.
We are the ******* "Millennials"  everyone talks **** about.

He was late to the war- the canons and guns have already started and the dust is settling in nice and cozy in his lungs.
He was falling apart- running across open fields with battle wounds surrounding every fallen solider he came across- there was so much blood.
He was crying on the inside but god forbid he showed those emotions on the open fields he and his brothers ran through.
He wasn't sure he would see his brothers and sisters all come out of this alive... he wasn't sure he would come out alive himself.

She was late to the war she was covered in dirt and oil from the ***** planes she helped gear up every long twelve plus hour shift.
She heard the engines start, she saw the wheels move and the ocean under the boat seemed more peaceful then the open space above.
She saw her wounded brothers and sisters being dragged out of whats left of the planes landing  feeling their pain as blood smeared across the top deck.
She smelled the gas as the planes started moving towards the edge of the boat and she knew there wasn't time to think- only time to move.

They fought and some survived and some didn't make it back home to their families.
They fought tooth and nail, blood and skin- heart and soul.
They were wives and husbands, brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, lovers and fighters.
They were more than a flag.
They were more than a country with a big name.

I remember the day you gave me the first set of red roses- you did it on New years because you always said Holidays were easier to remember-
I remember the feeling's I got-
Passion.
Excitement.
Anxiety of being treated with such love.

I remember the second time you gave me red roses- it was after we broke up for the third time- you promised we would work it out this time.
I remember the feeling's I got-
Sadness.
Love.
Hope.
Anxiety at thinking It wasn't going to get better.

I remember the last time you gave me flowers, my favorite daisies, you were moving across the country.
I remember the feelings I got-
Depression.
Lost.
Confusion.
Anxiety at knowing this was the last time we would ever have to fix us.

I don't blame you for retreating and hiding away.
I don't blame you for not wanting this to work out.
I do however blame you for making me feel worthless in the process.

I do blame you for the fact that I will forever question any man who gives me flowers and whether for not he is going to leave and never come back.
Anxiety.