dsm-iv.

that little bouncing black ball

that turns into a hole

its real

only a few of the lessons i've learned.

from you, i learned responses that mean nothing

you, how to make someone feel loved without trying. which doesn't mean anything either.

and you, how to live simply.

from you, you bastard, how to fall so easily.

you, that i was worth it.

you, how to survive, despite life throwing every obstacle it knows.

you, to render sympathy and not let life kick you in the ass.

ha, you, to let yourself feel every few months or so.

you, sweet boy, are still learning.

you, how to be silent and know the sound.

and you, how to throw your cares to the wind, and run and fetch them shortly after.

from you, naming something and holding it passionately close.

christian

ryan

zack

christian

trevor

father

mother

sister

brother

anna

hannah

laurel

black sheep.

and not the kind that soothes you to sleep.

shitdamn. i am that angsty person. who felt like a lesbian because she asked a girl to qdoba and called someone that she didn't know well enough beautiful. who ate a burrito alone and then played some chopin after her steady chocolate heart sugar-buzz wore off on the closing of another valentine's day that really just needed to be over. because she broke up with her boyfriend two weeks before. yup. feelin sorry for myself. who a few nights before burst of self pity into spurratic tears and researched mood disorders. who needs her sister, but her sister is too busy with her boyfriend and important life to check if she is feeling better. im not, by the way. mostly lonely. realizing that no one is really in these shoes... i really wish i could explain it to you. i do. but i cant. and even that sounds angsty. but when i feel so alone who am i supposed to go to if the people that i want to cant understand? get over it. move on. push it down. i fucking cant okay? and its not about a goddamn boy. i am just the sarcastic instigator. not the lonely, hurt one. hurting. i am not my problems, but sometimes it feels like it. so i listen to bach as a i sit in my bed because i couldnt go to class today. because i couldnt care enough to walk over, to present myself. cancel all my appointments that ever happened. i am done. i want to write music. instead i have to write a fucking bibliography. leave me falling.

that illusion of middle ground.

i'll never do you wrong

no harm

i don't want this to be a stressful thing

its always the same.

another person takes up mental space

they or you grow tired

it ends

and they leave a dent

makes my brain smaller, its tiring really.

so i read my books,

and try to discover the reason i get up in the morning,

or who i am right before i wake up

or something