Tuesday, February 10, 2015. A post for Pretty Girls. Drowning from the tears of the one who despises me the most. Drowning because I did it, I finally did it. I cried and cried and cried and expected her to do the same. She told me I was pretty.

I tried to be like Grace Kelly but all her looks were too sad. Tuesday, March 11, 2014. Death has always been a metaphor for broken hearts and dirty dishes. But the truth is I am terrified of dying, maybe because a week ago death was all too real for me. But it all started the night of February 27.

Sunday, May 25, 2014. I am lost in Paris. At first it was a beautiful dream. I have dark stalkers always three steps behind. No one speaks my language. The only things that speak to me are the writings on the walls. The paintings on the walls. To many dark shadows are covering them. You have every reason to be worried, you put me here. I got caught up in the beauty of all of you. Heaven help you when I get out. And trust me I will. I do not like the indie k.

Monday, March 16, 2015. How can you say you still love me or even loved me at all. You never really seemed to care. Your words mean nothing and your actions are shit. Despite how long and hard I tried to keep you in it, cant you see that you cant be in my life anymore? I had so much love to give and wasted it on you. I close my eyes as I hold my pillow tight, I finally fall asleep and get a break from the all the thoughts of you. Thursday, January 1, 2015. Why cant you try harder? .

Friday, January 10, 2014. I decided I have an analogy for the analogy of Paris. Anthems for a Seventeen Year-Old Girl. Big, fat, lone, respected, -Bull Bencher. Sky,000,000,000,000. I go up with the smoke.

But if we chase perfection, we can catch excellence. Friday, January 10, 2014. I was born January 16th.

Friday, June 13, 2014. Only the good die young. She was in the same spot as me. We worked the same hours at the same store while we waited for the missionaries who left at the same time. We were even planning weddings for the same week. Why her? Why do the good die young? I want you to explain why her sisters are.

Saturday, May 23, 2015. Slipping through the cracks in my fingers. I could never hold him. I could never erase him. My lungs are heavier now. So I leave them in fists. And I clench my jaw. Hoping that I can leave him in the past. I thought he was mine. Saturday, March 29, 2014. This Is The Best I Can Do.

My head spilled into this computer. Monday, May 12, 2014. And forever remains the change from here to then. Thursday, January 9, 2014. I figured for my slam poem I would take a different direction. I wanted to write something that felt different than all my other crap. And my lips are wet.

Wednesday, December 31, 2014. My last few posts are quite depressing. But I just want you to know that things are better now. Things got really bad last year. It was hard for me to breathe. I passed out a lot. My body was failing and my mind was going insane. So I stopped taking them.