Do you think of me the way that people believe you do?

Your smile is contagious and I can't help but return it.
Your laugh is infectious and I can't help but to join in.
Your happiness is radiant and I can't help but to bask in the light.
Your life is precious and I can't help but to preserve it.
*Why do you make me feel so alive?

happiness

Sometimes, midnight thoughts override everything.
Even the ability to sleep, to shut down the station in my head.
Staring into the dark corners of a bedroom doesn't seem to help.
Thinking of you at 12:03 PM doesn't seem to help either.
So what happened last night?
I slipped into the newly-washed sheets and closed my eyes...
Your face appeared.
It was the face you were wearing last time we were together.
The cautiousness behind those green eyes was not opaque, love.
You stoped yourself.
From watching my lips when I spoke to you...
From watching my hands when I worked...
From watching my eyes whenever you discreetly tested the uncharted waters of the Ocean of Us.
But I saw you.
How sly you must've thought you were (are).
But you weren't, really.
Because at midnight, the unconcious deductions I formed that day awoke from their shallow graves...
                                                       ­                And I saw you.
                                                          ­                                  ...the definition of "sleeplessness".

It started with a classroom conversation, just a chat among friends.
A discussion on love and whether we believed in "free love".

Then somone asked if I had ever dated someone.
Random, but not off-putting.
I replied with a resounding,
"Yes."

...No one looked convinced.

So I repeated,
"Yes, I've dated someone before."
Again, the looks I received practically spelled out

u
   n
      c
         o
            n
               v
               i
           n
       c
    e
d.

"Why do you all look so confused?"

I was angry, for some odd reason.
Why were they even asking?
What business was it of theirs?
Must they know everything?

Someone had the guts to speak up.
"Well... we thought maybe... maybe you were a lesbian. Or bi."

Oh.
"Oh."

How... unexpected.
No one had ever said that about me before.
Not to my face, at least.

It's not like I never thought about it.
I think every teenager has.
Discovering your sexuality:
It's a part of finding yourself...
Right?

Things I love about you:
your tan skin
the wrinkles next to your eyes when you smile
the green color of your eyes
the way you run
the way you walk
your ****** bag V-necks
every single line on your hands
your laugh
the way you dance
your love for St.Augustine, Florida
your addiction to Minecraft
your love of nature
your faith and trust in God
how easily you make me laugh
the way you stare when you think I don't notice
the way you scream at the spring fair
the way you relax when we ride the Ferris wheel
your obsession with lighting things on fire
the way you style your hair
how loving you are with kids
your need to spray paint EVERYTHING
the way you say my name
the way you hug me
your ability to do back flips
how fearless you are
the way you reach out to others
the way you stand up for your friends
the way you stand up for yourself
the brightness of your smile
the way you can instantly light up a room
the way you seem to draw people to you
your jokes
the way your lips purse when you become angry
how easy you are to forgive
how easily you accept others
the way you act with Buddy
the way you act with Chloe and Possum
the way you speak
how you're always there for me
how close you are to your mom
the way you always ask "Why?"
your love for architecture
your willingness to play dominoes over and over
your loving heart
how much you care for others
how unafraid you are to be yourself
your want to explore new houses
how intelligent you are
the way you never give up on me
the way you constantly persevere
how you don't know how attractive you are
the fact that you took all that time to read what
     I've just written
the way you think I don't know you love me.

The love I have for you is like a pre-tied noose,
just waiting to be tightened around my neck.
My foot hangs from the chair,
the voices in my head saying,
"Give up already".
Oh, I've tried...
I step back onto the chair, which holds the weight of this love.

Your smile slowly kills me.
Her arm around your body hits me like a battering ram.
The love(?) in your eyes makes me sick.
"It's so wrong".
The way I feel
    is
      wrong.
I shouldn't be loving you the way I do.
You shouldn't be my crutch.
You shouldn't be the thing that keeps me alive...
You may become the death of me.

I'm trying.

If the eyes are the windows of the soul,
then the shutters of my windows are
*permanently sealed.

I await the day of clear prosperity
when the sun shines and the sky is blue.

I await the day of clear prosperity
when the guns cease and the peace overflows.

I await the day of clear propensity
when the child can thrive and the family lives.

I await the day of clear prosperity
when the hate blows away and the love conquers.

snap*
the click of the camera shutter couldn't hide the little child behind your eyes
snap
even the deepest secrets were laid out for me to see and dissect and analyze
snap
can you at least TRY to make a different ****** expression?
snap
you only wanted to be loved, even if it was by a misfit
snap
pathetic
snap
who's your friend now, huh?
snap
who's going to boost your nonexistent confidence now?
snap
**it isn't me

your stupidity baffles me

"I wish you weren't so..."

"So...what?"

"I don't know... dark? Yeah. Dark."

if I could be any less dark, I would.
I'd be less dark for you.
white as snow.
but aren't I?
you only see what I want you to see.
am I dark, boy?
is that the word you use to describe me to your friends?

d
a
r
k*

it could mean many things...
gloomy.
deep.
depressing.

so which am I, *boy?
how about you let me into that shallow mind?
let me see what you're thinking about me.

normally, I don't bruise easily.
any kind of put-down or insult just
r
   o
      l
         l
            s
off.
yet today,
I'm black and blue.

your words hit home, this morning.
usually, they don't mean ****.
so what's going on?
why have I let these walls down?

midnight thoughts
never put into words
falling
crumbling
breaking

but who knew?
no one
not even the only person
I love
I cherish
I hold so very dear

you'll never understand these words
not until I read them aloud
for they're empty without emotion

how do you read them, then?

If an apology is what you want,
you aren't going to get it from me.
For what do I have to apologize for?

If an apology is what you want,
you aren't going to get it from him.
For what does he have to apologize for?

You're mistaken.
Over reacting.
It was nothing.
We're nothing.

Wait.
    Pause.
       Refrain.

I take that back...

**"We" isn't even a thing.

I always stop myself when the thoughts arise
because I could never let my father
find me that way.
Surely, he would die as well.

you ruined it for yourself.

"One minute you're sad as hell, the next minute you're happy as a lark... I guess you get that from me."

Say it, daddy.
Bring it up.
SAY IT.

but he doesn't.
another opportunity wasted
because I was
too
afraid
to
say
it
too.

yesterday I visited the sea.
where I should have found calm,
I found panic in my mind.
thoughts began to spin...

What if I just walked in?

What if I just ran in?

What if I never came back from the sea?

Would anyone even miss me?

my God, the thoughts could have pulled me under the waves themselves.

I sink again.

sometimes I think my dad knows.
sees the lifelessness in my eyes,
sees the pain inside of me.

but how do I ask?

"daddy, do you see me?"

he'd probably say something like
"sure, possum, I see you.
you're beautiful and smarter than most people I know, even adults."

wrong.

he'd never understand the depth of the question.
too naive, too oblivious.
not like me at all.
so I wait.
one day he'll bring it up.
one day, I'll deny it again.
but this time,
to my own blood.

I could feel my heart
the rapid beat of it
reverberating in my chest
sweat collecting behind my head
and in my palms
thoughts racing
God, I didn't want anyone to ask
"Who was that about?"
oh, please
anything but that
as if it were really important
but of course
the question was asked
and I looked away
smiling down at my shaking fingers
**"No one important."

sometimes, I think I'm rather obvious.
all it's takes is someone with open eyes.

psychology is my favorite class.
not because I love studying about what makes people tick,
but because I am the only sophomore.
and since I am the only sophomore,
no one talks to me.
so I sit in my desk,
uncomfortable as hell,
and listen.
I listen to the gossip being told from ear to ear.
I listen to the lies being spread like wildfire.
I listen to the teacher telling the class to settle.
but most importantly,
**I listen to the words in my head.

"Mr.Lennon?"

five shots
ringing out into the New York City air
one whizzing past
four making contact
connecting with the skin and bone
that make up his frail shoulder

a scream
ringing out into the New York City air
the yell of a woman
the cry of a soon-to-be widow
piercing the ears of all
that see his thin body hit the pavement

a whisper
slipping out into the New York City air
calling out in desperation
trembling with pain
it is hardly recognizable
the voice that once called out for peace

"I'm shot"

I just want to get away from you all for a week.

sitting in the hell we call "school"
and my thoughts
start to drift.
I begin to ask myself:

what would your life be like if he hadn't been a part of it?

I break into a sweat.
my hands grow colder,
along with my heart.
I dread the thought.

what if you were never friends?

the thoughts grow worse.
I think about the habits I have,
the things I've picked up from him (and he from me)
over our 16 years together.

what if he died tomorrow?

I'd feel it.
surely I would.
there would be an undeniable ache,
right there in the center of my being.

what if he died and you didn't tell him I love you?

I'd die.
I'd end it all.
what reason would I have to live,
if I didn't have him?

the
      thoughts
                take
                      over.

"Maybe I'm unloveable. Is that it? Am I unloveable, Leigh?"

silly boy.
silly, beautiful boy.
you could never be unloveable.
I love you.
I love you so much.
I'd scream it from the peak of the highest mountain if I could reach it.
But you don't know that.

"It isn't you, bud. It's just that girls don't see how great you are."

A coward's answer, that.
Whoever thought that the sometimes brutally honest girl would be afraid to say
"I love you"?
I
love
*you

I just want things back to the way they used to be...
I want you to confide in me.
I want you to share your thoughts and feelings and dreams with me.
I want my best friend back.
I want YOU back.
The you that was you a year ago.
Please come back to me.

a fleeting smile upon your face  
is enough to light up the night

a deep chuckle in your throat
is enough to fill the quietest room

a chaste kiss from your lips
is enough to expand my love

there is no one
I love
more
than
you.

not my short-tempered father,
not my beatific grandmother,
not even the imaginary Big Man Upstairs.

but then again,
I never am sure
you
love
me.

can't you see that perfect picture?
you and me?
you don't.
so here I sit,
waiting
on
you.

you can go **** yourself. sick of your attitude.