"Why, what happened?" I ask, burnt out and frustrated.

The only way it couldn't work out is if you didn't want it to.

I put my head under my pillow and let the quiet put the things where they are supposed to be.

I was never good enough

Send me all your angels tonight,

I need to STOP this.

I hate this. So very much.

'For all the sad words of tongue and pen, the saddest are these : it might have been'

You begin to forget what it means to live. You forget things. You forget that you used to feel alright. You forget what it means to feel alright because you feel like shit all the time, and you can’t remember what it was like before.

Once upon a time, a boy loved a girl.

You're so young, how'd you loose hope so quickly?

"I'm empty, and i'm cold, and my hearts about to break... come and find me"

I wonder if you'd ever 'take one' for the team.

Some secrets need to be kept, some stories should never be told,

Dear Jerri,

I can't believe you'd do this.

I write because I want to remember, and words retain more dignity than memories sometimes, at least they will when I may be old and my hands may be frail, and the details, fuzzy. I write because I am afraid to forget. Thoughts are fleeting and an undocumented world is just short lived. Something about the way an idea wrapped firmly around the mind unravels and pirouettes through the tip of a pen or impresses by means of old typewriter keys onto a sheet of tangibility assures me that it will last, and last because I will it to do so.

But don't worry, someone, somewhere is doing something beautiful, and nobody knows.

You have a pen? Take a memo and write this down:

Your chromosomes have combined beautifully

If air ever pushes its luck,

The rain pounds down heavily on the tin roof, I watch the raindrops trickle down the window. As I watch the raindrops gingerly find their paths through the myriad of drops, I pretend that I am in a floating house. I am not firmly planted on the ground, but rather, flying over the roaring ocean. How sweet would it be? To leave everything behind, and yet, to take it all with me, like I could not only defy gravity but negate its existence. I wonder what the stars would taste like, and how the black holes feel. I wonder where the asteroid belts would take me and I wonder what the moon would say.

Hi there, stranger.

I.cannot.stop.listening.to.this.

To my dearest posession - My dreams,

I live with my head high in dreamy clouds. Reality is not for me, its not my cup of tea. People look at me with disapproval, 'its a recipe for disaster,' they say,' you're too young, and too naive to know the intricacies of life'. I hear their voices cluck with disapproval,' come down from there, dreamer. The clouds are not safe.' I smile gently,' maybe one day,' I reply,' maybe one day.'

Hi dude,

and I think, ultimately, humans are like sharks.

I wish I wasn't so hopelessly boring, so oddly discomfited and socially awkward that people simply grow bored and restless talking to me, like they'd prefer to be somewhere else, with someone else. And I hate myself for that. I hate the way I can't excite a soul, can't carry a conversation, can't make someone laugh. So willing to please that I stumble over my words, get too flustered and distressed.

Fat.

Over confidence, i've realized, is a rather common maladie.

Dear Aidan,

The time as come to change this,

You have this way of ending off with such finality, that it scares me.

Get up, get out, get away from these liars,

I'll tell you a secret, which one's your good ear?

I am so tired, and so stressed out. I'm so confused and idk what to do.

I wish i had the power to make things better for you,

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead,

Every single night, just before sleep over comes, I write in you.