Dear past self:
it gets better. I promise.
but until it does, you're kinda gonna feel like someone lit you on fire and pitched you into an endless abyss along with everything you care about while the whole world mocks you from above and you will be humiliated.
oh, also, it's gonna HURT...but it's worth it.
...even though it really doesn't seem like it right now.

Repost if you wish you could contact your past self
please comment and tell me what you would tell your past self if you could

I’m the words between the lines you don’t say
Most of me, is made up of assumptions people make, and I let them
Like static characters in your favorite novels who’s unwritten characteristics you make up in your mind
I am a thousand stereotypes to thousands
But in reality I don’t quite fit, and I defy every one of them
I’m the notes in between diminished chords
That clash and don’t belong
I’m that one crooked picture frame
An uneven hoodie string, just a little shorter than what I should be
The zipper that always gets stuck
A loose thread
And I’m an “almost” puzzle piece in a jigsaw puzzle made of glass
Just a shard
A mirror shard
reflecting an ugly past
Which is fine by me
But some days I get sick of being an unending decimal
Because although lots of people want someone who is incomplete so they can fix them
When they learn I am not repairable
No one wants a fractured and scarred little silver lock with cracks all along the sides
If they don’t have the key
No one wants to fill my crevices with little parts of themselves
And I would love someone made out of the darkest ink
Because you don’t need to be whole to be happy
I could trace the smudges they leave to make them beautiful
But no one else sees the world through a clear tape lens the way I do
So I’m stuck
Here
Where no one wants to find me
Because nothing good lives here
Just living in between

REPOST IF you have ever felt incomplete and unwanted
Comment! I love to read your interpretation of my poetry!

I'm either always second choice
or not even a choice at all
I'm the girl who fights tears during slow songs
at the dances no one ever asks me to go to with them
while my friends go off and dance
in the arms of guys who asked them to
but I never get asked to dance
so I watch silently
because nobody wants to dance with me
I'm the girl who has never looked in the mirror
and felt beautiful
or even pretty
not even half decent
never even average
not even just plain
never felt ugly either
but every. single. time.
I feel hideous
and worthless
and repulsive
and ashamed of my face
and my body
and then I feel ashamed all over again
of my vanity
and pathetic obsession
with being beautiful
with FEELING beautiful
because roses are roses
and weeds are weeds
born a rose, you're a rose
born a ****, well, you're a ****
like me.
and roses will be beautiful
but weeds won't.
End of story.

Too many times I've wrapped myself in your promises
Eventually things tear when you use them too much
And I know everyone is reaching desperately for someone but I am getting sick of being the only loose thread in the tapestry

You're a hardcover novel I can't seem to put down with charming tea stains on your pages, endearing creased corners and torn edges I look upon fondly but I can't open you far enough to break the bind of your spine. I’ll keep trying though as I soak in and inhale every toxically flawless inky letter you are composed of, scribbling quotes from your chapters onto my wrists so I feel like I always have you with me until I know your story inside and outside, forwards and backwards, by heart. You have and immensely lovely and irresistible sleeve around you and a fascinatingly stirring summary for your description on the back but I’m more interested in what’s inside. It’s an incomplete tale though so I hope I get the chance to rewrite the rougher parts like the heartbreaking paragraphs of your past and maybe I’ll get to be a co-author for typing out your happy ending.

Please repost if you have ever experienced or are experiencing the budding beginnings of puppy love
Please comment! I love to read any thoughts you have on my poetry or poetry itself as an art! :)

Tick tock. Tick tock. The sound of a clock, the sound of finger nails on a chalk board adds to the ticking, a sound like rushing air but no breeze enters the chamber and then ringing silence and pitch black darkness cloaks the dim lighting and an atrocious familiar scream issues from below your feet and the lights flicker back on.

How it feels when someone you love is hurting...

and you don't know how bad they were hurting

until it's too late to save them.

Repost if you are one among the few of us who recognizes this feeling.

Would you mind being my reason to stress out over how I look and actually put effort into my appearance?
Would you mind messing up my grades by distracting me by hanging out in every thought I have?
Would you mind ******* up my sleep because I am so busy thinking about your beautiful eyes I can't even close mine?
Would you mind totally throwing my nerves out of whack by walking by me everyday so the butterflies in my stomach basically have seizures when I see you?
Would you mind scaring the hell out of me by giving me a chance so I am so terrified I will mess it up, my heart is always pounding?
Would you mind giving me a headache by sending me confusing texts that puzzle me and I spend hours trying to decode your mixed signals?
Would you mind being mine?
even just for a little while
would you mind?
what do either of us have to lose after all

Repost if you have nothing left to lose on love
please comment I love to read interpretation of my poetry

I was so scared to do it
So terrified in fact that I created a script
How’s that for pathetic?
You actually mostly stuck to the script
Which was nice
I stumbled on a few lines
Even though I was the only one who actually knew the script
And the one who wrote it
How’s that for sad?
I thought it seemed like it was going okay
I’ve seen you around
You don’t have a lot of friends with you most of the time
Any, actually
And for some reason
I have always found unpopularity attractive
How’s that for unusual?
Maybe because I never was popular
Or maybe because I hate the Populars for how they treated me
Or maybe because the Populars have their own little culture they’ve created among themselves
With values like drugs, alcohol, cigarettes
And beliefs that they are above everyone else
I’m just not into that
You aren’t outspoken
You don’t say too much
And I want to unlock you
You are so quiet
Like a secret I’d love to unravel
I’d take mysterious over excessively confident any day
But I don’t really get to pick and choose
I’m not the pretty type who has that option
Still, I took a chance
How’s that for stupid?
I decided to go and just do it
Because I figured you were worth the risk
You were musical
And athletic
Physically attractive (although, that isn’t my priority)
Nice eyes
Really, really nice eyes
And quiet
I really liked you and hoped maybe I could have a slight chance with you
How’s that for incredibly dumb and delusional?
So I thought it was turning out okay
And when I did it
When I finally gave it to you
You smiled at me
And said Alright
You know what
Why did you have to smile?
That was cruel
If you were planning on just leaving me hanging
For 95 hours and 58 minutes (yes I've kept count it is really pathetically sad)
If would have been less painful if you had rejected me up front
To my face
Refused to even accept my number
Told me you were not interested
It would have been better if you had even just said
…um okay…
Then I might not have gotten my hopes up
Like I promised myself I wouldn’t
And of course I couldn’t help myself as usual
I almost wish you had said something hurtful
Cruel
Told me I was worthless and ugly
And you didn’t want to be seen anywhere near me
Then it would have been easier
To make myself not like you
If I knew you were an unkind
It’s just that you are not
And I guess I just misinterpreted
The way you acted
I guess I mistook your actions
I really thought you would at least text me
Even just to be friends
Even just out of politeness
But you didn’t
And I blame myself
And the funny thing is
I don’t regret it
At all
I don’t regret taking that risk
Even though it didn’t work out
But I really wish it had worked out
I still find myself hoping
That maybe you lost my number
Maybe there is still hope
Maybe you could change your mind
How’s that for wishful thinking?

She could probably name your favorite show
Your favorite movie
Favorite song and color
Favorite book and favourite T shirt
And she knows she is your favorite contact in your phone
But I could name your writing style, I know the word you could never spell right as a kid I know your favorite authors and who's books you have read every single one of, and I know every crevice and silver fleck in your highest hopes and aspirations.
She wouldn't care about that stuff
...but that doesn't matter to you, does it?


Repost if you know the feeling. Or if you just really like reposting stuff

I won’t let you scream


But I’m screaming inside



I’m the only one who can hear you



But at least you care a little bit



No I don’t, not even a little



Well, I care



You’re not allowed to care about yourself



You’re not allowed to control me



But you let me because you secretly want me to



Why would I want you to?!




Because it’s easier than doing it yourself, you can blame
me when you are trying to remember why you did it




I’m done speaking to you.



You’re never done speaking with me



This time it’s forever



It never really is though, to you forever lasts until you grow weak again. You get lonely without me



Not true. Leave me alone.



You can’t escape me, I’m always there, in your room,
in your home, at your classes, in the darkest alley you walk



This time I’ll just ignore you. I have to before you destroy me. I am strong enough to escape your voice.



It isn’t about strength, it is about possibility, and it is physically impossible for you to escape a part of you



I’m just a voice in your head, but I will NEVER LEAVE.

Repost if you have a voice inside of your head, even if it is only once in a while, when things get really dark
Please comment! I love to read interpretations of my poetry.