I miss the past,

And I’m scared of the future. 

I’ve had so many highs, and so many lows. 

I’m afraid to try to be happy,

Cause it might crash back to depression,

But I’m afraid of letting myself feel lonely,

Cause what if joy was right in front of me while I help my head down.

I’ve had so many highs and so many lows that I don’t know how to feel.

So I guess I’ll just feel numb.

roaming bodies observe their surroundings

beautiful, perfect, whole.

riding inside them are minds that are hopeful

that the bodies are actually meaningful

lovely little universes expressing information

repeating what they see and making something unique with it

and they can love each other, wow.

and they can hate themselves

and they can see the world as twisted

or as the beautiful mess that it is

and they can look down to the ground and follow preset "rules"

or they can roam uncaring finding meaning in the search for it

or they can spend a whole life waiting for something to happen.

beautiful bodies designed to be perfect,

billions of individuals

unaware of the whole they're apart of

making messes just to clean them

staying busy, working, sleeping

i'm one of 'em

and i don't know how i feel about it.

how on earth is it even possible

for a thing to hate itself?

as if by looking at a mirror

the mind decides it should do better

even though it is not seeing

what it thinks it is.

we only see our bodies

there should be self to witness,

even though you think there is,

noticing the difference, feels almost like

trancendence, but that's not really what it is

that shit will rock your world, man.

In the middle of summer, an email was sent out to the entire school.

It was short, a single paragraph of news, but after it was read, it hurt.

She sat across from me- bright smiles, strong opinions, stubborn and terribly outgoing.

The first friend that I had ever lost.

She would always be more adventerous than me, had a small tattoo on her stomach with plans on getting another, spent a weekend drinking vodka just to see how drunk she could get.

And she was kind.

We would talk sometimes, about relationships and family, dreams to go to college soon, how she wanted to go but didn't feel comfortable leaving her younger sister with their abusive father.

How she felt selfish.

And once, she told me she left her house through the window when she couldn't take it anymore, said it felt free.

Sometimes I will think

About the email that was sent out.

It said that she had died.

And to this day, I'm too scared to ask how.