its so surreal
to imagine that none of it was real
that it was all just in my head, a creation from my imagination

he was real. we together were real.
but everything between us wasnt always beautiful.
it happened and i felt so much with every touch
i felt scared and broken and i created poetry that made it beautiful
but all that sweat was once just wet
all those grips were once just hands
all the love was really just sex
and all those kisses were just lips

if all of that is true
then i am to blame for everything in my life
for all the times you held me and i felt you
Has the whole world ive lived in just been in my own head?
will i ever know?

Last year was about choices
This year was about last chances
Next year is about me
Fucking finally, I can see.

Ever since you left me I feel like I have been asleep. Nothing feels real. Not even the needle that drew this new tattoo in my arm felt real and neither does the art it left behind. 
The other day i was driving and i thought maybe i am lucky to have lost people, to keep losing people; it means that I am always changing and so is my life. Maybe its those people who have the same friends forever -who keep all their high school friends, college friends and integrate them with their childhood friends and live "happily ever after" in a circle--maybe its those people who aren’t truly learning or evolving. And maybe its a life like that that would drive me insane, maybe all the circles would make me dizzy. I beg and yearn for new experiences and to meet new people, its what truly tortures me is the lack of opportunity i feel to do so. And i don’t like to do things that most people like to do. I think that's why i liked him so much, as a friend, as a man. because he was the kind of guy who would get excited for a Tuesday. We were both the kind of people to get excited for Tuesdays. not the kind who wait for the weekend, for the summer, for this or that. but we could have the best time any day, sharing drinks and long talks, safe and warm in the fire of each other.

i feel lost. and unable to make decisions based on any solid foundation since the weekend it fell apart.

i feel as though the ground, my ground, the one i spent the last two years building, was blindly ripped out from under me and that i am just nowhere and its now.

I cant remember how to act with my friends. I think my mind knows what i my heart doesn’t yet. that there is no more friendship to be had. So I base every decision off of “why the fuck not”.

The weekend the tide changed, started on a Tuesday. i feel as though i was poisoned with ambiguity and placed in a forced coma. betrayed. and while i was under someone stole a piece of me. reached in and grabbed it out of my writhing chest.

I awoke, empty and jolted. Ambivalence has never become me. As the hours and days went on, i was an empty shell of myself walking around like a ghost in a self destructive spiral.  

“Everything ive lost has claw marks on it.”

The weekend dragged to Friday, and I lost it all in a feverish rush. No statements from the jury were given. None from the criminals. These times felt like a broken puzzle.

My chest still writhing from the stolen part of me, the hole it left behind spread through me like an infection.  And like an animal, wildly ravenous and on the hunt, i raced around starving for salvation, trying to save face. To save myself.

Looking back at it now, every move i made those three days was a cry for help; of desperation and fear. A wild, manic plea for a second chance.

Claw marks.  

I felt it all slipping from away from me, and i felt myself drowning in the ensuing loss. I couldn’t breathe for hours, turned to days, turned to weeks. So in a wild desperation and fury i drowned…as i felt my peace, and my found solid ground, give way.

I cried on the way home today. I finished almost everything on my to-do list this week, minus working out and plus eating crap.
I call this week the “You didn't love me back so fuck it” week. 
I’m thinking it’ll  change, maybe in the morning. Once i stop living each day for your ghost.
I cried because i missed you. 

I should probably try to be less redundant and excessive and more reasonable . perhaps it will make me less dispensable and more important.

Thesaurus: Synonyms and Antonyms to save your life

I decided to start wearing less obsessive makeup, just darker lines around my eyes and more rouged lips. I started wearing more rings letting go of my obsessive superstition that some of them hold curses. I started to wear outrageous colors of nail polish like metallic silver. Because I realized bad things happen. Despite how perfect my make up or hair is. Despite my nail color or my cursed rings. I decided to be nice to my ex who I've spent the last four months hating. Because a part of me hated him more since I thought I had found someone who loved me and treated me right, even if it was just as a friend. But yesterday I decided to be nice to him because bad people are everywhere. It wasnt just him. And now I'm choosing to excuse him on the basis that all guys are ass holes. Its almost like a disease of our generation and he really couldn’t help it. No one ever taught him. Just like no one ever taught me what love should feel like and that it shouldn't hurt.
Its awful, how powerful someones love can be, but how even more powerful hearing someones lack of love can be. We fool ourselves into thinking there is a gray area of some sort but the truth is, this part of life is pretty black and white.

Another douche bag, another liar, another stupid guy who I thought was more. If there is one thing he did right, I suppose, it is letting me go in the excruciating way he did by telling me straight forward- that he never cared about me or had feelings for me. That when he slept with me, or when he held me, he felt nothing.
Though the deep burn of the knife in my back may never go away, and the pain in my hollow chest may feel like it will never again fill with a full breath….he has left no fight to be fought. he is gone. and he is never coming back. it may be the most honest he has ever been, the day he told me he was an ass hole. July 8th. Goodbye you terrible bastard who intentionally hurt me for the last four months. fuck you for all the times you pulled me in tighter, for all the lonely nights I helped you fill. I hope one day I can see that this was a blessing because you're setting me free. May this teach me what is important in life because you never would have. and may this be the beginning of some blessings that aren’t in disguise. please.

It was Monday and you had just responded after a week of leaving me wondering what i had done wrong. you had told me you were an ass hole.

at 10:40pm, sobbing on my couch in disbelief i wrote

“so its just that you dont care about me?”

without skipping a beat you read and replied,

at the same moment, 10:40 pm you said “i dont honestly dont have feelings at all, its not just you.”

On june 16th, i had written this

“so naturally we mold together until everything we feel the other one feels, as though we belong to the same beating heart. you are him, my best friend. everything is natural and sweet. it feels as though no one could ever have felt before what i am feeling becasue this feeling is special, and only between us. its not generic or simple, its complicated and intimate and can only happen once like this. you lay with your head on my chest just to feel my body heat and heart beat, you hold my hands, pull me in tight, cuddle up to my neck, even when there is not one inch between us you still try to move closer, hold tighter, breathe in deeper. as though my body is the one thing that has always been missing from yours. The gray area turns into a gray morning and as usual we wake up entwined. and you leave for work, a silent goodbye. and goodbye is okay. becasue these nights of bliss exist and we are best friends.”

I cried at work. I cried in the hall. at my desk, in the bathroom, in the car. My boss felt my breaking heart from 3,000 miles away over the telephone. Still, this morning I got up and out of bed and went to the gym. Tight fists to feign strength. Xanex is helping me sleep at night but even still it isn't easy. Last night I cried in every room of my apartment and every time I stood, I fell. I cried tonight and I'm loosing track of time. its 8pm and I am no longer myself.

When I wrote the poem below, it was June we had been together for four months, and eight days.  Approximately.
June/Seventeenth:
No one has ever held me that way.  How did it take me until now to notice that the way you hold onto me is such a loud expression of how you feel. The way you hold me isnever wanting to let go. It’s a confidence driven by comfort and shared passion. 
You hold me as though you know me.  Whereas others held me feeling a million miles away and already gone. When I am with you, I don’t feel that I am simultaneously losing you. I have never felt that before. I am so lucky to finally know how this feels, true and real. And even if nothing comes from this in the end, these nights will be ours forever. Sometimes you just know.
A month later, (it had been a week since I'd seen you) and in the middle of a conversation that made my heart explode into a shattered mess...I asked, “What about all those nights and mornings when you held me in your bed…you cant tell me you didn't feel anything”

It was 10.48 pm on a Monday. I had tried to make my way from my couch to my bedroom but fell to the floor moments after standing. I could hardly breathe as I sat there waiting for you to answer. It took you eight minutes to say words that destroyed me for a year. An ocean of tears rushing down my cheeks, I read your reply:

“I'm not going to lie and say I did”

“I shiver, thinking how easy it is to be totally wrong about people, to see one tiny part of them and confuse it for the whole.”

—  Lauren Oliver, Before I Fall

The year of confronting a truth I never learn:
no man will ever choose my mind over my body,
not my soul over my soft skin.

I want more than anything to spend tomorrow with you. but tomorrow and everyday we stay free spirits and run and play apart. because plans and voiced desires are poison to our generation.we must wear the mask of spontaneity and dispassion,  else we disappear.

Growing up, I don’t know how familiar I was with the concept of solutions, just that I was the problem. I was the wild child, the rebel, labeled as such for just being myself. Not because I was extreme or actually rebellious. I think that’s why I have trouble figuring out who I am now.

The other day, outside laughing and drinking by the docks, we sat down and you told me you felt lost and  you have spent so much of your life trying to be who you were supposed to be that now you don’t know who you are. We sat quiet for a while.  I never told you how close I felt to you in that moment; even though it was the farthest we’d ever been apart.

[Added 7.24.14]
At the time, I didn’t know that conversation, about feeling lost, would be one of the last conversations we ever had. Looking back now I guess all we ever really did was find a home within each other. A safe place for a short time. We found comfort in the light we made together, in the darkness of ourselves.

Lies I tell myself, as originally told by Shel Silverstein "I can be someone’s and still be my own."

Naturally we mold together, as though we belong to the same beating heart.
You are him, my best friend. everything is natural and sweet. It feels as though no one could ever have felt before what I am feeling because this feeling is special, and only between us. its not generic or simple, its complicated and intimate and can only happen once like this. You lay on top of me just to feel my body heat and heart beat, you hold my hands, pull me in tight, cuddle up to my neck, even when there is not one inch between us you still try to move closer, hold tighter, breathe in deeper. as though my body is the one thing that has always been missing from yours. The gray area turns into a gray morning and as usual we wake up entwined. and you leave for work, a silent goodbye. And goodbye is okay. Because these nights of bliss exist and we are best friends.

So let there be mornings of tight grips and racing hearts steaming up the windows. 
Of fueling our fire despite its danger.  Of racing hearts andbare chests.
Of snoozing our alarms not caring we are both late. Of exploring each other as no one has ever done before. And of saying goodbye, and that goodbye is okay. 
Let the lust rain over you whenever it can. Breathe it in and make yourself breathe it out.

And let’s not forget, it is the beauty, not the burden that these nights are rare. It’s where the magic comes from and let’s the magic find you. So by all means write about it. that’s the true way to make it last, to write about the beautiful night you spent in love with the dark and how you stretched it out as far as morning and how you said goodbye. And that goodbye is okay.

Last night we played and drank wine on your rooftop, dancing to jazz and saying goodbye to the life we know now. It’s my 25th year and as the sun came through your window this morning, I thought about how things end. And how tragically beautiful it is to live knowing nothing lasts . So let there be nights of dancing on rooftops, of getting tangled up in sheets together, of slow smiles and fast decisions, nights of holding each others bare bodies and mornings of saying goodbye.