I took a step outside into the cool of the dark early morning. I proceeded to sit on the steps outside of the front door. I stuck my hand in my right pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. I lit my cigarette and gazed at the stars. I gently puffed out a cloud of smoke. I felt wonderful. Last night was a disaster, and I felt wonderful. My parent’s were screaming at each other aimlessly in the wilderness late last night and I felt wonderful. I feel so relaxed.

I was walking down the hallway blasting music in my ears, trying my best to ignore the group of obnoxious boys behind me when all of a sudden I saw him. There was a crowd of people going back to class from lunch and I saw him. He was with a couple of other people when one of his friends decided to tickle the crap out of him. It was childish, but it looked so cute to me. He had these perfect cheeks, and I could just die when he smiled. In return I smiled. There was a gap in the crowd, for a moment, and while he was laughing he looked back at me. Straight at me for a solid moment. The smile never left his face. Nor did mine. Then the moment died off and things carried on. I can’t begin to recount how many times this had happened. From the first day I arrived at this school, I saw him there, I think in the office. We made eye contact constantly. Like this mutual unspoken “hey there”. But never have we spoken. He always looks so happy. I'm happy.

Sometimes I pretend. I pretend inside my head, so no one can see it. It always happens when I am listening to music. The more bass, more rage, or more passion the song has, the better. Often I have powers. I destroy things, but not always to hurt people, but mainly to get a message across. If I had powers like that and I used them, I believe more people would listen to me. Power = attention. Other times, it’s as if I’m living in a musical. I get up on the Lunch table and start belting a song, and everyone is in a trance. Once again focus. When I think about my self, my family, my friends, my romantic relationships, and my social ability. I think I am exceeding, that I am doing great. But I’m not. It’s so hard. People are so hard. I have so many things that I want to say, but once I speak, it gets “translated” unaccordingly to my thoughts, and I am so frustrated. Why can’t people just get me the way I see myself. Does everyone go through this? Do we look at ourselves as these three dimensional complex beings because we see our whole picture all the time, and when we look towards others, do we see only crumbs? Minuscule pieces, to what is a whole person, but were afraid of misinterpreting the design so we steer away or purposely destroy them? Life is so unbelievably difficult.

My body is rushing. I am always rushing. I'm excited. Oh my god. I saw your face. Excited. I cant help but gaze all over you again and again and again and again and again, all within seconds. Hormones. I can’t help but think I am so ugly. Not because that’s what everyone thinks about themselves, but because I am so big. I can’t even fit clothes that I would just die to wear. Hormones. Ooh but I saw you again and that thought whipped away. I am so happy. I can feel it. Physically. All over. Hormones. I just want you. I want you every way possible. I want you physically. I want to know you mentally. I want to be comfortable around you.Hormones. Lust.

These last four pieces were just thoughts. There was no reason to write them down, but i did. Two of them were based on Infatuation, which is a feeling I feel strongly and have felt a lot as of recently. So of course, if I scrape the surface, that is what I definitely feel the most passionate about, and it’s intriguing the way those feelings are released but also heightened when I write about them. Another piece was about the way I view myself along with how not only I deal with people, but the way I assume other’s also feel about each other. It also gives light to my depression, which I didn't even realize until I reread the paragraph a few times. But the first piece also gives in to the depression a little bit too. It sounds as though I feel great and amazing, and to an extent I do. See, I detach myself way too easily, and that’s what the piece really means. I've dealt with problems similar to that way too often for way too long now. All that I am capable of doing in a constant motion is to focus and take care of myself. And I don’t want to be this way, but family truly pushes me into that hole. Without a doubt, after analyzing the pieces, I sound a lot like a ****** teenager, and If that is what I am so be it.

I remember you quite well.  
Your face, the way you spoke.
The way your body felt in a warm embrace.
It all floods back from my memory.
Right now.
It's been about 4 years since we met.
                        4 years.
You told me you'd never forget me.
I remember the first time you told me you loved me.
My God we were so young.
It's been about 3 years since you wrote me the first letter in the series of many.
                        3 years.
You told me I was perfect and that stars are not nearly  as beautiful as my eyes.
It was the first time I truly felt that was true.
It's been about 2 years since we stayed up at your house, eating pizza, talking to each other about the wonders of life at 3 am.
                        2 years.
And I still stay up that late almost all the time, thinking about how you hugged me and told me I was wonderful and everything would be okay, and how for the first time in my life I had someone to talk to. I've never had that after you.
It's been about 1 year since we slept in each other's arms and you made me jump on your back and we ran through the pouring rain together.
                         1 year.
We came to a stop. We sat on the bench right next to the lake. We spoke and all I could pay attention to was the way you said my name like it was the religion you practiced and the way the water dropped down your face and body like you were being baptized.
You kissed me then.

I've never felt so holy in my life.

It's been 4 years since we met.
It's been 3 years since I knew I loved you.
It's been 2 years since you saw the real raw unabridged version of myself.
It's been 1 year since I was saved.
And it's been my whole life I've been waiting for someone like you.

Tragically, my love, I don't think you even know my favourite color or the way I love to sing anymore.

You used to think of me every minute of every day.
4
You used to think of me often.
3
You used to think of me sometimes.
2
You used to think of me once in a blue moon.
1
You stopped thinking of me, just like that.
I lost my faith like I lost you.

it is that time of the night again
when nothing but rabid thoughts
swamp every recess of my mind

it is that time of the night again
where i contemplate taking either
my own life or a cigarette from my pocket

it is that time of the night again
where i am forever plagued
by these three words

i.
am.
sorry.

liek this peom if u want a leik

I spent my day
With kids under 8
They were a lot of fun
And pushed me
'till I couldn't move another step
We were laughing
And smiling
And just talking
I felt like a little girl again
Going back to the age
When I still had my innocence
Before that awful thing
Was done to me
Or that I did
I don't know which it is
The kids
The made me happy
But at the same time sad
Wishing that never happened
That you
Or I
Or both of us
Would have held back
No one may understand
That kids may be a joy to my life
But also tear me to shreds
When I look at them
I can't help but see
My own innocent smile
As you took advantage of me
Or I you,
I don't know which
They called it molestation
Or just kids exploring
But whatever they call it
It changes nothing
I still lost my innocence
To a guy
When I was just 4
You were 5
Nobody knows
What happened that day
But you, me, and her

I drop four ice cubes into my coke out of habit.
I kiss my sweet love four times for good luck so our team can win the game.
I catch myself counting to four when Im ready to speak up, I don't count to three or even ten I count to four.

It was on my back in big white letters when dad looked through the chain linked fence and said with every ounce of his pride "Take it for a ride lex."
That's the day I got my first homerun.
That's my old man's favorite number and mine too.
Ill never know why I look at him like hes god.

He spelt my name wrong two years back.
The letters said L-e-x-i,
I whispered that's not how you spell my name it's spelled L-e-x-i-e.
I whispered because I didn't want to embarrass him, I thought if I talked quiet enough no one could see my lips break around the words in shock.
I was 5 when me and mom left him.
The number 5 is my most unlucky number it always takes something from me, like my dog, she was in my arms on the fifth of may when heaven called for her to go home.

Dad came the next day to burry her, the hole he dug was to shallow.
Days after her funeral foxes came and
scattered her bones across the field.  

It was a treasure hunt to find all of them, I tried to save her one last time.

I should really give that man a call.
I'll do it tomorrow , or I'll wait for him to call.
I'll count to four before I answer.