I am not the protagonist of this story,
I am not the righteous one.
I am not who you think I am,
I am the antagonist, the obstacle to be overcome.

I'm selfish, reckless, mean; I'll say anything to get under your skin.
I'm vindictive and cruel,  I would betray you in a heartbeat.
I am sad and envious and spoiled and I always have been.
I don't have a righteous bone in my body.

I am rebellious and weak.

I am I am

a sidenote in your story.

So don't give me your respect,
I know you think it'll work.

I don't want your love and admiration
I can't take it.
Give me instead hatred and condemnation.

Write me off as a lost cause, a bully, a weakling.

This I can live with, this I deserve.
If were all redeemable there would be no point
So let me serve the purpose I was meant to serve.

Hi there
I believe we've met
I saw you sitting all the way over
                             next to me, quiet.
"Are you ok?" - I ask because I care
tearing apart myself
can't bear to not remember
I need to ask you better questions
questions like "Are you ok?"
                           Am I ok?
I'm so bad at conversation and I am
robotic and expressionless but
you help me express feeling that
           screams alive
I saw you sitting all the way over there
so I came closer and
put my arm around you
and you...
                   flinched

7 and one half years ago
you were in my room
and i was on my computer.

i wrote the password to log in, but i
made a mistake because i was nervous
and i backspaced all of it.

you noticed.
you said "i do that too when i mess up"
i didn't realize at the time, that i would remember that about you

and my birthday party.  you were the only one
to show up
and my dad made you listen to ICP,
i'm still sorry about that.

i haven't forgotten any of it



i wish i could think about you without hating myself

Sidenote: I highly recommend listening to these songs/watching the musical, it is amazing.

Example:
Song title: Lyrics *My thoughts/feelings

Anybody Have A Map?:

Anybody maybe happen to know how the hell to do this?*  
I'm in this confusion so deep that I can't find a way out.
I'm flying blind, and I'm making this up as I go.
Ha. Me too.

Waving Through a Window:

Step out, step out of the sun if you keep getting burned.
I've been burning forever.
Waving through a window!
Put your soul into this song.

For Forever:

We share.
Together.
All we see is sky for forever.
An ecstasy I do not know.
All we see is light, 'cause the sun burns bright!
Shouting hallelujah from here.
Life will be alright for forever this way.
I hope so.

Sincerely, Me:

All that it takes is a little reinvention!
I need that.
All you gotta do, is just believe you can be who you wanna be.
Just believing right?
Sincerely, ME!
Yep.

Requiem:

I will sing no requiem.
Neither will I.
I gave you the world, you threw it away. Leaving these broken pieces behind you.
I know.
Everything wasted, nothing to say.
I know.
Within these words I finally find you.
The words are not mine.
Now that I know that you are still here.
I am?

If I Could Tell Her:

But he kept it all inside his head, what he saw, he left unsaid.
Secrets work wonders do they not?
If I could tell her, tell her everything I see. If I could tell her how she's everything to me. But we're a million worlds apart... And I don't know how I would even start.
How do we begin to say the words?...

Disappear:

No one deserves to be forgotten. No one deserves to fade away.
Nobody.
No one should come and go, and have no one know he was ever even here.
I'll make sure of it.

You Will Be Found:

Well, let that lonely feeling... wash away.
I should let the weight drop from my shoulders.

To Break In A Glove:

And a little uphill climb.
Just more work.
For a kid who's lost control.
I'm just trying to make sense of it all.

Only Us:

Try to quiet the noises in your head. We can't compete with all that.
No we can't. But we try.

Good For You:

And you say what you need to say, so that you get to walk away.
Everyday.
I hope that it's all that you want and more.
I'm not proud.
And you play who you need to play.
I did.
JUST LET ME OUT!
I am not okay.

Words Fail:

I never thought that it would go this far.
I really didn't.
So I just stand here sorry. Searching for something to say.
I am still searching.
There's nothing I can say.
There really isn't.
Words fail.
They do.
That's a worthy explanation, I know. Nothing can make sense of all these things I've done.
I wish I could make it up to you.
So how do I step in...

Step into the sun?

I wish I knew how...

So Big/So Small:

And I knew I'd come up short a million different ways.
And I did.
And I do.
And I will.
And I will... I already have...

Finale:

Today is going to be a good day, and here's why:
Because today, at least you're you and that's enough...
That's enough.

All I see is sky for forever...

Curtains close.

I'm going home.

Yeah... I'm going home.

the night was black velvet,

and you were a castle.

Scratch it,

That's not you!

Because that's not what I wrote

And God knows your dedication for turning tables,

It's impeccable.

That could have been me today

Or probably not

Because I'm at the bottom of the barrel,

The last thought in the foodchain

That's not you,

That's who replaced me.

squadrons deployed. everything permanent is still removable if you ignore it enough. revising your lackadaisical list of priorities. repeat play and an ashtray full of roaches. at this point even nostalgia feels classic. cross your t’s and then just x out everything. circle the names of your favorite cities. hands held, grudges kept. i swear somewhere i’ve got something left. in my head the rescuers are always gonna be the ones who go down (under) in history. everyone else is just running their mouth or grinding their teeth. there are some lies left over but who cares? this might be the worst ever. or the best yet. i guess we’ll know for sure soon enough. i right clicked through this like five times because of what i’ve got flowing through my veins. sidenote: i miss you.

I was not made to be a waitress. To carry plates and pull pints and count coins and be able to breathe at the same time. I should have given up. Four years in and my boss was still telling them that it was my first night, not to mention that time someone half-jokingly asked me, a completely sober seventeen year old with an anxiety disorder in a family owned bistro in white middle-class conservative Hexham, if I was drunk. I was not made for fake confidence and biting back tears, for toilet cubicle walls and breathe in, breathe out, all you had to do was carry the potatoes to table five. I was not made to be a waitress in the same way that I was not made to understand the art of mathematics. The times tables in their white linen shirts stained with my clumsiness laughing at me as I dropped plates and couldn’t subtract fifty four pence from five pounds seventy two at the till. I wasn’t made for sequence. For questions with definite answers, I was not made for having to be right. I was made for having to be wrong. Over and over, for ******* up a lime and soda, or was it lemon? Four years into a job. I was made for honesty. For answering you truthfully when you ask me what I am thinking. I was made for chocolate on the hob and strawberries tickled with sugar in hand, for the familiarity of the songs of a home friend’s band, I was made for softness. For your lips on my lips and my hands on your hips and the imprint of your freckles on my cheek. I was made for learning that this is not weak. For learning that I was made for me.  For dancing badly and laughing loudly and eating messily. We, on the other hand, were not made for each other the way people appear to be on film, the megabus trips without air-conditioning and the seven inches and 165 miles that fall between us the ever persistent proof. I was not made for you, designed so that our lives would perfectly intertwine but what does it matter when in this moment I think I was made for this. For half-lit, half-fit bliss. For reading poetry to you at three am until you fall asleep, when all that is left is the hum of your breath as my voice echoes milk and honey, making me feel like I could be made for anything, even though we’re apart.

Sidenote: June ’17- this time there was only one 'first night' at my new job.

As a final declaration of my intention
I want you to know that I'll always be around
Anytime and anywhere, I'll always be somewhere whether you know it or not
When your going about your day, driving to wherever you go or when your on your last leg and shot
If you look hard enough you can probably catch a glimpse if you take the time to stop

This might sound creepy and I admit it because it's true
But this is what I do and I can't change because this is the way I've always been
I'm older than you know, though my skin and hair and eyes are young
This may be pretty hard to grasp since what I'm saying is pretty far flung
You can say whatever you will but, dear, I promise you I've heard every song you've sung

So if you accept this or deny this, it really makes no difference
It's just the way it is and the way it is is pretty simple
You're there and then so am I, it doesn't matter if I want to be
It's only science and the nature of how we move and we both see
Just take this as a warning or just a sidenote in case you think you might be able to flee

These stories contain a character so accurate,
so flawed,
so
beautiful that if any author tried to recreate him
or her, that person would be laughed off the stage.
Which,
excuse the sidenote,
probably means they are the only
genious in the room. The character is of course
you, and the answer is, of course…LOVE!
Now at this point I can see you are already fed up with me
and for that I understand.
I understand because of course
love is not the answer!
That lovey dovey *******
No, the real answer is even simpler.
Stories.
We live.
We Die.
We live and die for stories.
Love is how we should treat people.
To live one’s life
with as much love as possible
Your humble author included.
Love is Pandora’s hope.
Love is the elephant in the room of life.
Love is good.
Love is evil.
Love is death.
Love is life.
Love is not the reason for life.
We do not wake.
every morning searching for love.
We do.
wake every morning searching for.
stories.

When I rose this morning,
With sweat on my head.
I noticed the difference,
And climbed out of bed.
The warmth of the room,
Helped not the gloom.
And no-ones soft breathing,
This place is a tomb.

The  quiet unsettled,
And this for hope.
I dressed up disheveled,
Feeling much like a joke.
Drudging about,
As the clock again spoke.

Into the brightness,
Glad for cologne.
Smelling awesome makes you feel awesome-sidenote
The gears started grinding,
Tires gripping the road.
Music not helping,
As louder it grew
Thoughts ever flooding,
While ashes flew.
The minutes were seconds,
Finally something to do.

So I can’t trust the Times, Fox News, or the Post.
Too left or too right, just parasites hungry for hosts.
From you, fellow tax-paying citizen, I take note.
I listen to you — that angry defense of your vote.
Are you going to tell me what I am able to trust?
Before this land of the free is left to ruins and rust?
Silence speaks volumes,
like the encyclopedia I loved, circa ‘94—
devoured for hours on my living floor.
(Sidenote: That encyclopedia included several pages on
the Holocaust. But then, I suppose,
the Encyclopedia Britannica shouldn’t be trusted either?)
So what must I trust if I can’t share the news
without being challenged because of my views?
You say I can’t trust the posted or printed, so instead,
I'll trust something much louder in my heart and my head.  
I'll trust that empowered white supremacy in a place
where "all men are created equal," is something I refuse to embrace.
I'll trust that our freedom of speech is not our freedom to hate.
Black, brown, yellow, white— that’s not up for debate.
I'll trust that hope will swallow such hate in the blink of an eye—
choke the breath from its lungs and drop a beat to its cry.

And then I'll trust that history will one day forget
that we've failed to keep its pages from repeating just yet.

I want that night
3am
To shut him up
No need for
Pretend
Don't say it
Though I said that before
If you don't mean it
Not a single word
More...

Sidenote:
He fought me that night
Said he knew he didn't have to
That this was what he felt
And when I dismissed it
Even repeated himself....

He kissed me
Under blankets
Darkness
Without ***

Lies and pretending
The actor in his best
Role
In a drama
I'm crying tears
From rom com
To broken
I'm shattered
And feel
In all of my agony
*******
It was real
Wanting his arms
Though he
Loves me not
Still.....

©MV

depression is like a lot of things
tonight it is like this:
-empathizing with the tea kettle who screams and screams until someone comes along and removes her from the fire
-clutching tightly onto a way too hot mug despite the discomfort because at least you feel something tangible (sidenote, related) comparable to holding a piece of your own heart/a piece of someone else's
-listening to every song you can think of that will make you cry and doing absolutely nothing about it
-coming home from work with expectations of accomplishment but staying in bed/isolating for the remainder of the day
-avoiding mirrors, or even worse getting lost in them for a half hour trying to figure out what exactly you even look like
-inducing an early sleep cycle to avoid any further feelings of heaviness

but it is ok!
or at least it will be!
tomorrow is a new day for us all
-

i did not have a childhood

or, not a real one.
it feels hazy, lost, scattered
its—

like the static of a broken tv
unable to find a signal—
like the scratches of a broken record
struggling to piece together swing music—
like the fading of an ancient polaroid
lacking its vibrance and unable to keep its picture—

my memories are a black and white movie,
reminiscent of the old hollywood of
elizabeth taylor and montgomery clift—
a film in which i am being played by someone else.

(sidenote: if i could choose anyone to play me in a film, i would choose james dean)

but, i am numb.

i did not have a childhood.

As I sat in the corner of that dark room
All I could see was emptiness.
What might fall upon me in this space?
Far, a dim light brightens the room.
What might it be?
I try to get closer, but the distance does not seem to shrink.
I start to run, but the distance does not seem to shrink.
I give up. I can’t.
I go back to my corner and close my eyes.
Maybe I will be gone soon.
Everything goes brighter and brighter…and brighter.
I open them. The dim light; it is so close. I can reach it.
Do it. I know you can. Don’t ever give up.

Sidenote: 2LnZhNmFINij2YbZhtmKINi52YTZiSDZiNi02YMg2KfZhNiq2LPZiNmELiDZhNio2­LnYtiDYp9mE2KPYs9io2KfYqCDZgtix2LHYqiDYqtis2LHYqNipINio2LnYtiDYp9­mE2KPYr9ioLiDZg9iq2KfYqNipINmI2YLYsdin2KHYqS4g2YTZhNij2LPZgSDYjCD­Zg9mE2YXYpyDYstin2K8g2LnYr9ivINin2YTZg9iq2Kgg2KfZhNiq2Yog2KPYrdio­2YMg2Iwg2YPZhNmF2Kcg2KfZhtiu2YHYtiDYqti12YXZitmF2YouINmE2Kcg2KPYs­9iq2LfZiti5INij2YYg2KPYrNivINmH2LDYpyDYp9mE2YPYqtin2KguINmD2YQg2L­TZitihINi52YTZiSDZhdinINmK2LHYp9mFIC4uLiDYtNin2K3YqC4g2LrZitixINi­j2LXZhNmKLiDZhtmB2LMg2KfZhNmF2YHZh9mI2YUg2Iwg2YXYrNix2K8g2YjYrNmH­2Kkg2YbYuNixINij2K7YsdmJINibINmI2YTZgtivINix2KPZitiqINmD2YTZh9mFI­OKAi+KAi9iq2YLYsdmK2KjZi9inLiDZhNiw2Kcg2Iwg2KjZhdinINij2YbZhtmKIN­mE2Kcg2KPYs9iq2LfZiti5INij2YYg2KPYrNivINmI2KzZh9ipINmG2LjYsdmKINi­n2YTZhdir2KfZhNmK2Kkg2Iwg2YHZhNmF2KfYsNinINmE2Kcg2KPZgtmI2YUg2KjY­pdmG2LTYp9im2YfYp9ifINij2LnYt9mG2Yog2K/Yp9im2YXZi9inINiq2LnZhNmK2YLYp9iqINit2YjZhCDYo9mKINi02YrYoSDZhNin­INiq2K3YqNmHLiDYo9mG2Kcg2K3ZgtinINij2LHZitivINij2YYg2KPYrdiz2YYg2­YbZgdiz2YouINiz2YTYp9mFIQ==