#haha

I heard you in the hall just now. Laughing.

With her.

She made a flirty comment... a little too loudly.
I heard every word. You started shushing her.

You were right in front of my door... did you really think that I couldn't hear her?
Or you?
She said "what?"
You said shush.
I laughed.

I laughed because I finally realized just how little you truly mean to me.
Just how pathetic you truly are.
Sure we're "friends" and all that crap, but I realized that the hold you had over me was nothing more than a schoolgirl crush.

So you "shhhhhh" you next conquest and I'll sit here and laugh about how absurd you are.

Steamrolled

It's days like these that I wish I believed in something. Anything.

Queen B.

If I'm sinking will you save me?

Will you look at me and smirk?

Will you catch me if I fall?

Will my own doubt prove true?

Will you watch me drown as you float by, above my head, without another thought for me in yours?

Right now I'm scrolling through dialog and realizing that if you really wanted something with me, you would already be here. You would have been there waiting.

I deserve John Cusack holding a boom box outside my window. I deserve Jake from Sixteen Candles waiting outside the church, and I want to ride off on a lawnmower with Patrick Dempsey. I deserve Judd Nelson walking across that field thrusting his fist in the air, because he knows that he got me. 

So what if I stole that from 'Easy A'. That doesn't make it any less true. 

I want that. 

And dammit, I deserve it. 

I want to fall for someone who wants to fall for me. Who wants me.

Someone that wants to want me. Someone that wants to pursue me. Someone that wants me for who I am. Someone that makes me feel like a Princess, prized and special.

But for right now, I sit here knowing that this is bad. More than bad, but I'll just ignore the severity of the situation and stare at your mug, 'cause darlin', you're a dime piece. 

This is bad. You're bad for me. I know that you don't really want me. If you did, you'd be here. But then again, maybe I'm to blame. Maybe this whole situation is my fault. Maybe I'm awkward and maybe I don't give enough, and maybe you don't even know. How could you not know? You're foolish, but you aren't stupid. I know that you don't really want this, and I know that you are a dead weight that I can't shake, but it's that sliver of hope that keeps me going. That sliver of hope that keeps me going makes me sad. Not because it is nothing more than a sliver with extremely slim potential, but because that's what I've allowed you to turn me into. 

A pathetic, pining, princess. 

That isn't who I am. 

Darlin', I'm a Queen.

I'm strong and independent.

I don't know how you've managed to strip me of that, but you have. 

Ultimately... that is why I am sad. 

I've allowed you to strip the exact thing that makes me ME.

Babe, I don't like what you've done, but you give me one minute of your precious time and I'm putty in your hands. 

I don't like who I am with you, 

or because of you,

but now I know, 

and that's the hardest truth.

XX Queen B.

Morning In Mourning

This morning I woke up to a shrill beeping. The screeching was coming from my alarm clock. It beeped for what felt like hours, but was only a few seconds. I slammed my hand down on the screen of the clock...

I will not let my writing become this. I will now let you take paris.

I hate this. I feel like as a writer I have grown and developed over the last year. I felt like I was in a good place with who I am and where my writing was going. These "prompts" and this "class" have me receding into the mediocre writer that I was two years ago.

Ask me a question. I'll give you a straightforward, boring, vanilla answer and I will feel a piece of Paris die with it. I will feel pieces of Paris crumble as you "teach" me how to be a "good" writer.

I'm over it.

I won't let you take Paris, and I won't lose it.

I will not let one generic english course ruin what I have grown to love.

My morning was fine. Thanks for asking. Now leave me be and let me write my life away in Paris instead of this godforsaken town.

#kthanks

Sway

Wandering lost in a field of poppy's, looking for a light that's disappearing across the skyline. 

Sad beautiful girl, bow your head and cry.

Today has brought you sorrow, but there will always be a new tomorrow. 

#keepyourcrayons

"They'll tell you to grow up. They'll say that everyone is doing it"

Don't grow up, it's a trap. 

Planted

How do you know where you stand when you're floating in a sea of the unknown?

tell me a secret...

Can you tell me a secret?
Can you tell me that it will get better...?
That it will all be okay...
That I will be okay.
Because right now...
I'm just not sure.
Just lie to me.
Just a little white lie.
"A white lie never hurt nobody."
Right?
So please...
Take this pain away...
Just for today.
Because lately I've noticed that the bad days are out numbering the good...
and I just need you to tell me a secret.
Just tell me that it will be okay.

Nothing.

I'm supposed to be studying. 

Getting an education. 

That's what they say anyway. That's what I'm supposed to do. 

But that isn't what I'm doing. 

I'm scatter brained and frazzled and clumsy and lost. 

I'm not any of those things. 

You toy with my mind and whisper sweet nothings. 

But that's exactly what they are. 

Nothing. 

That's exactly what we are. 

Nothing. 

I wanted more. 

You wanted her. 

I played with the idea of forever. 

You played games. 

I don't know what I'm supposed to do. 

But one thing that I do know... it's time for me to let you go. 

I just hope I can find the strength to do it...

Hooked

I know I should say goodbye. 

I should probably just walk away and let you go. 

But Paris has me hooked on you like whore on cash money. 

Like a dealer on clear crystal. 

Like the girl doing lines in the bathroom. 

Like the overweight, out-of-shape, middle aged alcoholic on a bender. 

But I can't let you go. 

And that's the problem.

I need you too much. 

I can't let you go because poetry is free and therapy sucks ass. 

Because I need you to breathe.

Lost in Argentina.

Get me OUT of here.

I want out.

Nothing in life worth having ever comes easy, but I just never thought it would be this HARD.

I want to be grateful, and I am.
But sometimes it just seems easier to give up and

l
 e
  t

    i
     t

       g
        o

This depression is eating away at the person who lives within, all I can wonder is what will be left of that girl if it succeeds.

Don't cry for me Argentina.
Because you see, I barely know you.

If you should feel so inclined to weep unwanted tears, weep those tears of blood into your pool of vanity.
Fore that is what they are.
Tears in VAIN for a lost, wandering soul they will never find.

But go on and cry Argentina, the truth is, I will be waiting around in the corners of my mind to soak in the pity until I'm pulled under.

But my love, my soul, my dear Argentina. Don't cry my darling, because the thing is...

I'm not wandering. I'm thoroughly and forever...

LOST
       

The Reason

Am I the reason you run down a maze that's never ending? You try to keep a straight face as you slowly shatter me into a million pieces. I stare out at this cityscape and know that I will love you forever. Always. Even as you say 'goodbye'.