teenage thoughts

Chapter Fifteen

I am my own monsters,

living under my own sheets,

crawling through my own nightmares.

-self-hate.

It aches. In your stomach.

A little ball of fear, growing bigger and bigger each minute.

-anxiety.

You don't have to treat people like shit

just because you feel like shit.

-lessons.

I showed you my poems. I showed you my true self. I wanted you to see me. And, god, you saw me. You were too good to be true.

I am sorry for pushing myself into a situation that hurt you. Please, believe me, it broke me. I mourn for us.

You were my first. And you'll always have a place in my heart.

-I guess what I want to say is that I still think about you sometimes.

I hope you know all of my poems were truthful. I meant them when I wrote them. We didn't have forever.

But we did have forever in a moment.

-my first.

Your words are arrows. Sharp, thoughtless, and unerring. Maybe it was you who perforate me in the first place. Maybe it was you who left me so incomplete. Maybe it was you who left me feeling so empty.

Maybe I just didn't want to believe that a mother can hurt you as well.

-because I grew up, believing that mothers are supposed to love you unconditionally.

I am better on my own. The only one I can hurt is myself.

And to be honest, I am quite used to that.

-the sad truth.

You two are my never-ending movie; my most read book; my most delicious coffee; my best poem; my loudest laugh; my go-to-karaoke song, my brightest smile. 

You two are my favorite everything.

-my best friends.

Maybe someone is waiting for me out there. Maybe there is a chance that I can fix myself. Maybe there is a chance that I can finally start to love myself. Maybe there will be a day where I can finally say that I forgive myself for all my mistakes. Maybe I can show the people I love that I love them. Maybe one day I can live my day without any maybes because lately, my whole life seems to be a maybe.

-maybe.

You look good on paper.

But that's the only place where I still find you these days.

-poetry boy.

It's been a long time since I kissed someone and meant it. And it starts to hurt a little.

And it starts to remind me of your kisses.

-do I miss us? Yes, I guess.

When we dance into the night, we are holding us tight.

When we share our favorite song and sing along.

That's when you start to feel like home.

-sometimes home is you.