why do i

why do i listen to people
when only i know who i am and what’s best for me

why do i trust people
when i don’t know them, and they don’t know me

why do i hurt people
when all i want is to communicate

why do i not care
when certain people care about me

why do i judge
when i don’t like when people judge me

why do i accept people
when i know they are detrimental to me

why do i hurt myself
when i can avoid the people who cause the hurt in me


booty calls

i love when you text me
late at night
cause i know what i’ll be

i love that there’s no connection
between you and me

we both know what this is
i feel like a rebel
in the midst of obedient earth angels

an anarchist
in a society chained to the rules
attached to what they’re told

like a newborn and it’s first bottle

inability to deviate
inability to question

so call me at 3 in the morning
when I’m in bed mourning
over the lost soul of mine
through the physical numbness I’m used for
with you in between or sheets
or above
either way

call me at 4 in the morning
after the girl you truly want
refuses to be with you
she walked away from you
at the bar, when you both drank too much

so you call me
to slightly fulfill that part of you
we both wake up the next day
feeling the same way
we did before
neither moving forward nor backward
neither helping, nor damaging

call me at 5 in the morning

i’m here.

Skinny Love Explicit

i cannot open up to others
when you’re still all i think about
i don’t cross your mind
as much as i want

how can i be sure
that you don’t think of me too
when i look back on our time
i see the love you kept inside

you came to me
couldn’t let me go in the mornings
i never told you how i felt
maybe you thought i didn’t feel anything

for a short time, i was around
i didn’t want to plant something in your mind
it would only hurt, i only wanted good
i wonder if it’s too late to tell you

across the blue you are
living your life as before
but from the start you meant so much to me
i hope this can continue somehow

this is so fucking hard
you’re the only one who ever made me feel this way
eighteen years without it
but you showed me it does exist

i do hope you’re happy
however our lives end up
but for now i refuse to sit back
and not fight for my first love

i hate using that word
it’s all people talk about
but now i understand them for once

i could write about you for days
for years, pages and pages
i could never get sick of you
right now i’m missing you like crazy

i don’t want to go crazy
that’s the thing
i want to open my heart
to others around me
but if i do
i would let go of you
and that’s the last thing
i would ever want to do

whether or not you feel the same way
just to be in your life
i would feel okay

though it makes it easier on me
being so far away
but if you took a plane over the ocean
in a second i would fall hard again

i never lost feelings
they’re just easy to ignore
cause i haven’t seen you in months
i can’t do this anymore

that first day
the first day i saw you
i wrote about you
how much i already appreciated you

i guess it was love at first sight
for me, at least, from my side
even though to this day i still barely know you
i know enough to be in love with you

School Flaws and Teacher Claws

School starts tomorrow and I’m dreading it. I’m upset that school is something teens despise and do not enjoy. School should promote education by caring about us students more instead of watching us fall behind and put pressure on us. They should celebrate a student’s improvement even if they’re still below average. I feel like teachers do not try to help students reach their full potential. Everybody learns better in different environments and with different tactics. For example, I learn best when there are hands on activities or conversations/ debates involving the whole class. All we do is read textbooks and take notes from a PowerPoint. Yes, some students do fine with just that, but the majority of students bullshit their way through high school because they can’t learn from just reading and memorizing old information from a fat book. Us students only remember the information just enough to pass the tests, but forget it shortly after. Schools/ Teachers should use different ways of teaching for example connect the information to modern day situations and events, class deliberations, and hands on activities with visuals that could only expand a students knowledge. (We don’t even learn basic life skills, proper grammar, or appropriate vocabulary as we get older.)

Keeping students more involved by giving them endless opportunities to participate and feel safe speaking their minds will keep them engaged in class and therefore increase interest in education and school. We want students to look forward to a class because there’s a debate that day, or because they’re working in groups to voice their ideas and listen to and respect that of others. Also, by hearing other students ideas could also expand knowledge because nobody thinks the same, so it makes students think outside the box. I wish teachers were able to care enough for their students and realize textbook work isn’t doing much for anyone. I’m thankful that I’m graduating this year. Who knows what I’ll be doing from then on, but it’ll be better than high school.

Side Note: With all the changes in society with constant changing technology and current issues globally and locally, we’re not being taught corresponding to what’s going on in the real world. There’s no connection between the information we are taught in school and what would be useful in today’s world. Every generation in different, so how are they teaching the same things, the same ways every year for decades?

American Horror Story: New Year’s Eve (True Story)

It was the night of New Year’s Eve, filled with drinks and laughter, but outside was a cold, sketchy night on a dead-end. We got kicked out earlier than planned, so I got a ride home from a friend. I thought my parents were home from their party because both cars were in the driveway of our house, so my friends left before I got into my house thinking I would be fine.

I knocked on the front door and nobody answered. I ran to the side door, no answer. I took my bag an emptied it on the front deck multiple times to get my key, but I couldn’t find it. I couldn’t call my parents to let them know I was home early and locked out because my phone died, of course. The longer I was outside the more numb my body was getting. All I wore was a small dress, a sweater, and boots. Although I was numb, the cold was stinging my body. I tried the garage to get the emergency key, but couldn’t remember the code because I hardly ever use it.

It was one o’clock in the morning, below freezing, I was drunk, the neighbors were sleeping, I had no way of contacting anyone, I was too numb to walk to a friend’s house, so I did what I thought was my only option. I had to break into my own house. I went to my basement window, the smallest, but easiest window to access, and I tried to open it, but it was locked for once, the night I needed it most. I still tried to open it and unlock it from outside, but I knew it wasn’t going to work. I started punching the window, underestimating it’s strength, and it wouldn’t open or break. I stood up, took a breath, and kicked the window with all the energy I had left. Glass shattered everywhere. With my hand, I started to hit the leftover broken glass that was around the edges so I could fit through, then I took my bag and dove into the window and onto my couch right below it.

It was pitch black. I knew I landed on a pile of broken glass, but I didn’t acknowledge what I had just done because my goal was to go upstairs and call my parents to tell them I got home safely, so I thought. I was trying to find the light switches as I was stumbling through my house. I finally got the house phone and called my parents so they knew they weren’t picking me up from the party anymore. After, I sat down on the couch to finally relax after the long night I had. About ten minutes later, still numb from the cold, I felt a weird, sticky substance on my hands. I looked down and started crying hysterically.My hands were covered in my own blood. As I looked around I realized there was blood on my stockings, dress, the phone, the walls and light switches, and big drops on the floor all throughout the house.Why did I think I would be okay? I had just dove into a narrow window surrounded with broken pieces of thick, sharp glass. I called my parents right away and luckily they had just pulled up into the driveway.

When my parents opened the door, I was standing there covered in blood, make-up running down my face. They helped me right away by wrapping layers of bandages and medical tape all over my bloody hands as I cried and explained to them everything that happened. The pain hit me slowly as my body defrosted and got out of the shock I put it in. I was exhausted from the stress and fear I had to go through. I was just relieved and finally felt safe for the first time that night.

Bad choices make good stories.

Regrets or “Nah”

I do not regret not working my hardest in high school. All along it was my decision with how I pushed myself. With studying, I stayed within my comfort zone and did the amount I felt was needed to meet my expectations, if not, exceed them. I never wanted to, and still don’t want to, spend my free time memorizing words that mean nothing to me in reality. It’s just not who I am. I am happy that I maintained high 80s in my classes while keeping my social, physical, and personal life in good shape as well.

I feel bad for the people who regret not working hard. They knew all along what awaits them at graduation and decisions after it. People roll their eyes at me when I tell them I don’t regret working harder, especially since I’m not an A student. I know I could’ve bumped my grades up, but I also know that that’s not the most important thing. While everyone was focusing on school and the nonsense in textbooks, I would go home and focus on myself. I focused on my talents and hobbies that created the person I wanted to be. I know who I am and what I love because I gave myself the chance to become an honest, unique person. I have so many more goals waiting to be achieved. In the end, I think I achieved more than those who got ranked top 20 because they still need to figure out who they are and where they want to be since they were spending their only free time worrying about a number next to their name.