I’ll be twenty this year, a couple months from now actually, I can’t say that I’m very old but inside of me it feels like the last few years have been centuries. Before, when naivety was part of my character, before the world ripped the rug from beneath my feet I might have blown out the candles and wished for daft things, unimportant things. This year I’ve got my tongue wrapped around a secret wish. All I want is to rid myself of those childish things, the words that haunt me and the friendships that burned my castle of safety to the ground. Mostly I wish to rid myself of you, with the approaching of another year, one step closer to death’s cold shake, I hope that this tight bubble you’ve created to slow the flow of my blood to my heart might begin to disappear. I don’t feel like this is too much to ask of you, after all the years that I’ve spent fertilizing the ground you walk on with love and compliments, after all the time I didn’t stand back to watch you crash the way you did with me, after all the times I came on a haggard white horse to try and save you. It’s not too much for me to erase your existence from my sight, to forget about your wet tears on my bare skin, or my arms so tight around you I feared you might dissipate. You never did, you didn’t slowly sink away from me, and you came hurtling at me like a ball from the cannon. I was never intended to be a survivor of your sick games and once I was, you tortured me again and again, never once offering me the sweet relief of death, yet I continued to give you my forgiveness. I spent a lot of time with my gut spilling straight out of me, and I think it’s time that you let me sew it up.

I am a silent rumbling beast, smoke emerges from my mouth, a warning to all that this volcano could minimize their population. In front of my house where the lonely people sleep, my heart built her nest. She is a stray now, feral and free. My bones watch her wearily as they are growing weak. My stomach howls for her so my brain fills every empty organ with tar and speed. I am a catalyst for the realm of shadows, a hosts to personal demons and vices. My skin is but worn out leather, once a home with it’s stitches ripped out.

Ok I need to know before I make this a real thing. For the last week or two I’ve felt this permanent calmness, this almost understanding of what it means to be me and an acceptance that things will change but I can make anything good if i have the mindset. I have been inspired to write a self realization book about my past and coming to these terms with my body image, my talents and my abilities. If I were to take this on as a real project would anybody be interested in reading it, would I have a target audience that I could aim this towards?

I met a girl, a girl with fiery hair and ice in her bones, she was terribly frigid and unbearably cold. We sat miles apart, tucked into a small little room. I watched as her lashes flicked up off of her cheek and her nose wrinkled in disgust at the conversation presented to her. I met a girl, I fell in love. However, the terminology of this is far too graceful for what truly happened; I met a girl and I was dragged upwards into the sky, arms flailing and lungs screaming in despair as her net ripped me from my home. I met a girl and I flew into her Venus mouth, another fly to be disposed of. We sat across an ocean, her on the east, I was firmly planted to the west and her words stretched the entire expanse of the blood red sea to coddle me in her scarred and tender arms.

To every single person that follows this blog, thank you for reading, this is my life, the sparks the ignite words in my head and the most vulnerable parts of my existence. Thank you for being interested, it means more to me than you could ever know.

We sat across from each other, my eyes fixed on the sheen of her hair and her eyes getting lost in the distance as she absentmindedly stirred her coffee. Her breaths drew her skin downwards, caving in only to quickly erupt. The plate tectonics of her existence eluded my grasp of understanding, dancing just by my fingertips but never touching me at all. Her lashes curled sweetly, sweeping across her face as the sadness on her tongue wrote stories in her eyes. I’ve never know a girl quite so beautiful as she was in that moment, the one where nothing, not even herself existed and I am grateful for the view.

In a bathtub filled to the brim with my sins, I sat with my skin peeled back. I scrubbed the dirty looks from my bones, I stayed inside of it for days, the liquids never losing their alluring warmth. I surely lost my mind inside the eyes of the girl I loved for whom I had to be so clean. I knew in my heart that I couldn’t offer up such an impure vessel so I washed even the tiniest of my cells until I was just a passing thought she had at night while she weeped.

I hear the rapping on the window, cold wind has reduced my fevered worry. All the silence has combusted and become a merciless thunderstorm of heartbeats on the sill outside. You are not yet here, you haven’t been here to look out through the curtains in a bit of time. One night I fell asleep safely with a blanket of your warmth and the next morning I awoke to catch the last bits of you floating in the sunlight with all the other dust. Your laugh haunts my dreams, seeping through every mechanism I’ve created to stopper it. Your smile has been painted on the inside of my eyelids and your soul has taken root in my stomach with the limbs forcing themselves out through my nostrils and mouth!

How do you enjoy a kiss when the leftovers on your lips taste like all good things coming to an end? How do you fully find yourself inside of a lover’s embrace when the tightness of their arms are noticeably looser each passing moment? The paranoia takes away from it all, the fear of losing him, the nightmare of a life without her keep you from involving yourself, they tell you that if you build this wall too high it will surely fall.