Try out your voice, now use it.

As much as I say that you're being stupid,

I'm glad they didn't break you.

I want to stop just accepting all this,

and if you won't fucking listen, someone will.

It's true that we are living so comfortably,

and everything is "considered to be one of the best"

in our country,

but really, you can't tell me that you're happy.

I see it on so many people's faces.

I hear it in my voice when I speak to you.

Fuck this.

There is so much more than having money.

I wish I had you in my lungs.

Our bodies got so much clearer

With dirty blood and thirty last calls

So fill it up and spin forever down the wall

I throw it up just to watch it fall

Through the window you looked much sweeter

"I once wrote a name on my wall too...

but I've since pasted a plaster over it.

I've healed!"

So I've noticed.

If you ever read the previous post,

just put it down as momentary self-loathing

and paranoia,

and forgive me.

I'm scared.

It's probably nothing but then it's not

nothing if you're crying.

It's the basics right: tears = sad/happy.

These sure as shit aren't happy tears.

But you.

You're the one who makes it right again

as I sit there on the curb,

eyes swimming

and ribs shaking with laughter.

I counted all the headlights to make sure I was all right.

"All this seemingly unfinished business and baggage

makes everything so difficult sometimes,

but I guess all it is is that:

I've loved before, I'm capable of

loving again and loving better.

People disappoint you and fail you

and hurt you but you

remember the good things

and that love becomes who you are.

It grows with you.

You move on but

it never truly leaves you."

I worry sometimes.

That I'm not enough or I'm not right

or it was just too big to bury

and move on from.

Am I too much alike...

or too different?

What if I hadn't said anything?

I know what it was like 

so I know how you felt.

And when that name pops up

on your screen, or in conversation,

or in your mind,

how does it feel now?

I feel the slight twisting

in my stomach.

I feel hideous.

I want to ask but I

don't want you to think

about it

so I don't.

I just feel so so sick,

sometimes.

*

I'm alright.

I now keep a dream journal,

maybe they're messages.

Maybe.

In case we die [Part 1-4]

My head in a song by

Architecture In Helsinki.

I'm just as clueless as you.

"You should be medicated!"

I've got problems

I'm gonna use them

I'm gonna keep them from you 'til you cry

I've got machine guns

I never shoot them

I only borrowed them in case we die

Late nights, play fights

I'm freezing and you're leaving me here

Blue and red up I'm fed

you're almost dead, tongue twisted

35 nightmares and 94 days since

I got near you and your anxious ways

Hey darling, let's steal it

I'm certain you're sure

Spell it to me, love

And as we planned there's fireworks, stage right

They're swallowing the brains of all in sight

It's 1am, that's evening your time

We're counting sheep

Sell it to me, love

Leave it while it still smolders

So I'll have to say I told you

I carved our names in a tree there

I meant the letters to be bolder, bolder

Around the angles there's a race

where silver never gets golder

And baby, when we get older

We don't have to get colder