it's your absense that makes me want you more
it's your presence that reminds me why i even care

i don't care how much you love your family,
your friends,
that boy you can't stop thinking about,
that job that you kind of tolerate,
that project that fills your soul,

don't forget you need to be selfish
that you need to make your world revolve around yourself

you're not a saint for putting them all first, silently hoping for the same in return
you're not the victim for always saying you deserve more but giving yourself less
don't assume someone or something is going to prioritize you
it's a privilege so don't anticipate it like a right

when you give your everything
don't be surprised if it doesn't come back whole
expect whatever you hand off to potentially come back broken
be ok with it
let that be the expectation

sometimes there will be exceptions
when you can only give pieces
and someone gives you far more than you can reciprocate
and it'll be nice
maybe it'll feel like too much
but cherish it 
remember it's rare
​
so please don't forget you need to be selfish
that you need to make your world revolve around yourself

she thinks she needs it
him
anybody
filling her emptiness
tracing and digging into her insecurities
a softness she's only witnessed on hard screens
but her lack of original words to describe something so intimate means she really doesn't know what she needs 

i don't want it anymore
the promise that it'll get better
that life is beautiful
that there is so much more to experience
​that they all believe in you
i don't fucking want it anymore
i don't think you get it
i'm fine if this is all there is
i don't need more
i don't want more
i don't think i'm ever getting more
i don't want it anymore

i pray every night for it to be my last
for the blackness to suffocate the emptiness
the severity to mask humiliation
the end to mellow into peace
my dreams, a permanent escape from me

ok, so you tried to be there for her
you checked in to see how she was doing
you promised her that she was going to be ok
you hugged her tight
you said you loved her
you said you believed in her
you said she was fucking amazing
you made plans
​
she didn't keep them

she didn't keep them

she didn't keep them

you loved her to death
it just wasn't enough

I dreamt that he held my hand and it was easy.
We were watching a movie of some sort.
​On a couch, looking forward, surrounded by young kids
He gently embraced my hand with his
Under the blanket
And though I hadn't known him for long
I hoped we could stay that way forever.

It was her last day and she didn't know it yet.
She had been quite unhappy for a long while, lost in the overwhelming blur of the future and feeling incredibly finite by the past.
It was her last day, and had she known, maybe she would have been happier in her ending moments: no future to run from and a past that would be rendered inconsequential.
A brief, weightless present she could truly feel and maybe enjoy.
It was the end of hinted potential but also a sigh of relief for the suffering always felt more real than any fading hope.

I find it sad how people want so many things, and deserve a good lot of them, but often don't get much of it in the end.

I find it sad how despite best efforts, sometimes you can't help when someone falls and when you end up falling as accidental debris.

I find it sad how words carry so little weight, and how, these days, actions are starting to feel just as trivial.

I find it sad how broadly defined "love" is: just because you love someone or have a lot of love to give doesn't mean you treat them right or doesn't mean you get love in return.

I find it sad that the world simultaneouly thrives and declines around comparing your situation to someone else's often leaving the former feeling like what you have is not good enough.

I find all these things sad in a sobering this-is-reality way, not in a tragic end-of-the-fucking-world way.

And as quickly as it all came,
It went.
Blame her tendancy to put significance on the minute
Because hard feels familiar
And easy, skeptical
A self-fulfilling prophecy.
Tries to catch herself before these papercuts get deeper
It's a sting
A tiny mistep
Don't make it more than it ever was
Don't let the hurt be disproportionate to the joy
Don't let anything not be worth it
Use it
Use them
Hell it feels like they've already used you.
Wanting to be jaded,
But knowing that would only give them the satisfaction​
If she can't be content
Then no one can bitch
It's on