you'd never think it'd be normal to be afraid of shoelaces but here i am like you have no idea how much desperation it takes to think you know i could totally use these as a noose, knot them there, tie them here... it's absolutely ridiculous and the morning after you've destroyed your thigh and then wondered why like what exactly is it that's going on in my head i know there's a six year old napping and coloring whom no one believes exists and i know i'm in there somewhere even though i have no idea who that is or where they came from i just know that they're buried in there somewhere and tighter tighter tighter tie me tighter i just wanna escape it all and i know it's just part of life to live through and it will make me stronger at least that's what I normally tell other people but how much of a hypocrite am i if i can't even control what goes on in my head or believe my own words how can i act how can i drink how can i sleep how can i live without some sort of control i mean i can control how deep i cut and how many times but I can't control a six year old's temper tantrums and sudden urges to color and I can't control the minds of people around me who matter but don't believe my words when I guess I haven't given them much reason to trust me in the first place but i mean haven't i given you enough in the first place by living and not dying when you leave me alone in my room at night with nothing but my headphones you trust me to not **** myself when i cannot talk to whom i need and get what i need from my very own parents because they won't even listen so how can i even begin here and now choke it's getting harder to breathe and i can't stop staring at my shoes and wondering if the starchy strands would make a good necklace and if a doorknob is high up enough and i know it seems like i wouldn't go through with this but i swear i would and it's not for attention it's an escape an escape from reality and what i'm facing i know i have no backbone and that i'm a total wimp and that there's no way to get through your problems other than to face them but i feel too weak too leechy too overdone i've been left in the oven too long i'm burnt and charred the light rememberance of a human being too cowardly and weak to stand and maybe the six year old part of me sputter is becoming me and i have no control over that either and all i can do is just sit here and breathe in and out and in and out but i don't really feel it and my heart isn't in it though my lungs are for the moment and i really just really want to die.

How come I always end up paying for wishes?
Aren't they supposed to be free?
Why is recompense part of the deal
when they're supposed to uplift little me?

Why does the brass lamp cost money?
Doesn't rubbing it mean luck?
Why must I pay a penny a day
If it won't guarantee I'm not stuck?

Every Tuesday I take a trip to the train station.
I pack all that I have, as heavy as it may be
       set it upon my back
                           then begin my journey.
I stop at times when it all seems like it is too much
                     and try to adjust my cargo
But I realize that I am only slowing myself down
              when I carry the weight of the world on my shoulders
    I fake a smile, for undergoing such a weight is pain
    I breathe in deep and count my steps, fearing that I will only drown and what I have been holding back.
     I have a choice between going nowhere and going somewhere

So I choose.

And instead of hiding or quitting
                I let my burdened baggage go
I open my suitcase, like an old wound
     Lift out what has been tattered and torn
     And set my burdened cargo free to the wind
     I face what I must, and find strength in what I am tossed and thrown aside
     I noticed the stares as overlookers pass
  But I give them a smile and stand up a little taller
     For when that is done, I have reached the station

you know those hills
that you take with
your car
and it sends your
guts into your heart?

yeah, i wanna
live life
like that.

Peeling away layer by layer, I'm slowly becoming whole.
Wrapper after wrapper- will someone eat my candy heart when there's nothing left to hide it?
I'm so exposed, so open; the breeze wafts between layers, shaking them loose, and they waft to the ground like leaves.
Will this edifice be strong enough to stand on its own?
Built out of feeble candy cigarettes and held together by pink bubble gum, it's already been chewed up and spit out, more wrappings being formed to protect its' already collapsing structure.
Will it survive?
Will I survive?
**Chomp.

Dearest:

If I could touch you just once, then I'd be whole, I swear.
Sitting here letting youtube shuffle like the muddled thoughts within my mind, you're all that won't dissipate into thin air.
All Time Low, then church tomorrow morning, why won't you leave?
Are you lonely?
Do you need someplace to stay for a while?
Well, my arms and ears are open. Stay here a while.
Rest.
Everyone says "shes an invalid" and "she needs help", but I know it's not true.
Because if she feels half what I feel, all she needs is me.
And I need her more than the breaths I take, the words I write, and the ideas I spout.
One day, we'll be together again, angel, angel, angel. My angel.
My one and only angel.
And I can't wait for the day I can roll over in this same bed where we kissed and see your sleeping eyelashes fluttering admist your sleeping sighs.
I won't be doing much sleeping.
I promise.