The anticipation

is killing me.

Not the good kind,

Where your stomach fills

with dancing butterflies.

Where your head is filled

with hope and joy.

Where all you want

is to fast forward

and get to where you want to be.

No.

I have the bad kind,

The kind that puts your stomach in knots.

The kind where your head is filled

to the brim with noise.

The kind that makes you want to dig your heels into the ground,

begging

for time to stop.

That's the kind

of anticipation

I have.

And I pray to God

that I have the strength

to make it through.

I don’t want

To always be

The one who makes the first move.

I want someone else to be the one

Who steps up

And puts their feelings out there.

Not in a text.

Not through a friend.

Instead,

I want to be told to my face

That they like me.

That they want to see me.

That they want to hang out with me.

People always put me in positions

To be the one that puts my heart on the line.

They want me to do the work,

The heavy lifting

So that they can claim the prize.

But

Just once

I want someone to lay it all on the line for me.

When it comes to relationships,

I feel royally fucked.

I somehow got it in my head

That every man

Will be like my father.

That they will get angry.

So angry, that the yelling will make me go silent.

That his hands will make fists that pound the walls around me.

Startling me.

Scaring me.

Causing me to hide away until the storm has passed.

And sometimes

I worry

That I will be the one like my father.

Do I have regrets

That we aren't together anymore?

No.

To have regrets

Would imply that I didn't try

When I was the only one who did.

I've always to have a surprise party.

A day planned out for me.

Not one that goes by like just another day.

I don't want to share my birthday

With someone who doesn't even like me

Just because the days are close

And just cuz it's convenient.

I want to feel appreciated

And loved by those around me

I want them to think

"Let's throw her a suprise birthday party"

without any prompting

Is it mean

If I secretly hope

You fail?

Don’t get me wrong,

I’m proud of you regardless,

But part of me wishes

You’d fail.

You put yourself on this pedestal

And constantly preach

How much better you are at everything.

How you don’t need to study

How you don’t need to work on yourself

How you don’t need anyone’s help.

So yes,

Maybe I’m the bad guy

Maybe I’m the villain

But I hope you fail

So you can see

That you’re not all that different

From me

I wish I could go back

To a moment when we kissed

When your hands would roam

And find a place around my hips

Grabbing at me

Wanting me.

I wish I could go back

To when the kiss would speed up

Where we wanted each other so much

That time stood still.

I wish I could go back

To laying in your bed

Your hands grabbing at my clothes

Taking off piece by piece

Wanting to shower me with affection

I wish I could go back

And see

That the only time you truly wanted me

Was in the bedroom.

If people knew that the way they talk

The way they act

The way they respond

The way they react

Would be written down

For others to look at and critique,

Maybe

They wouldn’t talk so much

About things they don’t understand.

Will saw his life past by in a blur, unable to speak, unable to tell them to go back, knowing that if he didn't he would hate himself forever. And when he arrived in California, he wondered why he couldn't tell them he wanted to stay. It defined him. A kid unable to say anything that has a remote chance of hurting somebody's feeling, a kid who regrets most of his choices, a shy kid.