the heart wants what it wants

The bed’s getting cold and you’re not here
The future that we hold is so unclear
But I’m not alive until you call
And I’ll bet the odds against it all

I’m trying to build boundaries, rules and roads to keep me safe, or as safe as I can be at this point. We’re on the edge and I keep making excuses for him and I wonder what it would take for me to just walk away. I sat talking with Ally and Reilly tonight for three hours about everything, from boys to transgender people to God, and I talked to him too, over text. I think the root of my hurt and all the negative feelings associated with it is that he wasn’t thinking about us, he was thinking about himself. I was thinking about us, approached him graduating from a place of compromise and being willing to make sacrifices. It would be different, feel different, if he had done the same. But we can’t go back in time, can’t redo it, and I think the only chance of me feeling okay in this again is if he goes out of his way to prove that he cares and he wants this. I need to be shown, not just told. And it’ll probably take time.

But I’d love it if we made it.



I’m sitting in class and I can smell him on my skin and on my clothes. He doesn’t shower as much as he should, doesn’t do a lot of things, but damn he smells good. I’m sitting in class and I could cry because despite what my father says about us being too young and this not being real, I love him more than I ever thought possible. Terrified of losing him, and that’s how you get lost in love. Maybe I’ve forgotten myself in the last few months, gotten swept away in loving him and being what he needs and forgetting who I am who I want to be what I need. I don’t need a promise of forever but maybe forever is what I want. Then again, I’m twenty years young and what the fuck do I know about a love that lasts a lifetime?

Then again, who does?

Not my mother and father, not my friends’ parents, everyone has problems and there is no perfect relationship. Sometimes I feel like mine is pretty damn close but I’ve got blinders on, rose colored glasses that strip me of the strength to choose what he can so easily, to walk away. We talked for hours last night, alternating between avoiding eye contact and piercing each other’s souls with our gaze. Lots of tears, sad faces, short hitched breaths. He needs a year, he says, maybe less maybe more. I’m going away next year, off to distant places to get off on distant people so maybe it’s for the best. We both can have half of what we want but it’s hard to have it all. I want him, he says he wants me. But being open is hard, long distance is hard, a breakup is hard but at least it doesn’t drag it out. I am terrified of losing him.

But maybe he is just a moment, despite the word “always” inked across my skin.


They say mental illness isn’t a disability, but what about the hollow feeling I get when I haven’t taken my meds in a week? The shakes and the headaches, the electric shock sensations and “brain shivers” that give me a sense of vertigo, making me wonder if I’ve been drugged when really it’s the absence of drugs that leaves me only half able to function. Every movement feels like an out of body experience, like I’m on autopilot but the steering system is broken, and I can’t help but notice the tremor in my hands and thank God it’s not for a more sinister substance as I desperately twist the bottle cap open and swallow.


out of control. stomach pressing against my ribs, pushing through my skin as i speed walk to the empty bathroom; everyone’s at the game. elbows on the plastic toilet seat, knees pressed against the cold tile floor. toothbrush jutting back until it hurts, until i heave and my guts spill over the bowl, tears streaming down my face. release and a rushing sense of control in a life that feels anything but. my best friend asks me why i do it and i reply that i don’t know – it’s not exactly a lie. maybe i’m fucked up or maybe i need to feel something; maybe i’m out of control and this and exercise are the only ways to feel right. how did it all change so quickly, revert back to eighth grade in a matter of moments this summer when it all became too much and i became not enough?


cerulean skies, palm trees swaying in the wind, all leafy green and spindly, warm sand that never gets too hot and saltwater that sticks to your skin as the sunscreen melts off and swirls in the ebb and flow of the waves. grenadine and sunshine and stretching my body toward the horizon at eight a.m., the sea breeze tickling pastel verandas as lazy days spent lying on a canopy bed drift past, wooden slats making the sun and shadows dance across me to a song only they know. reading Jack Kerouac and listening to LANY and wondering where it’s all going, all these bits and fragments that make up my life, that never seem to make sense until i turn around and look back and aha, there it is. hindsight is 20/20 but you can’t blame yourself for knowing things now that you didn’t then. so i run mad but never faint, feeling my core tighten while trying not to pinch myself in the wrong places. sometimes i want a cigarette even when i don’t need one – you never need one – and i don’t yet know the difference between learning from the past and carrying baggage i should’ve left behind. how do i protect myself without hurting someone else? i think a lot now about being alone but sometimes it’s lonely and i worry i’ll cave in the end; old habits die hard. how can it matter though, when there’s a great big world out there filled with adventures and experiences and growth, when i’m twenty and still have so much more living to do. i’ve taken eighteen flights this summer and i’m already dreaming of my next one, images of a green and blue landscape, white surf and wildlife floating through my mind. there are so many places to go, so many people i haven’t met yet. don’t you know only fools are satisfied?