In a galaxy; far far away, there lays a dream. A common dream we share as humans. One we tell others that it can not happen. We bring each other down. Telling each other we are stars with more dividing then uniting because we want to witness it for ourselves. It's to succeed. To grow old and be content. To move on like shooting stars dissipating at the sound of raindrops and not to fear commitment. We say this dream on repeat. On a constant loop saying, "I can, I can, I know I can." Yet there's something- there's something we can't do. We can't except ourselves for who we are and who we want to become. We cannot notice that we were never meant to be common we were set on this planet to be comets. Setting ideas around the world making our friends and family grief in our success. We will one day say we did it and I will scream that I belong among the stars and so do you. Your father will say Sky is not the limit, he'll tell you to take this dream, and smile while he brings you your galaxy. And as I stand here today. With my two feet on the ground defining all laws of gravity. I'll slowly countdown the numbers again, until we can take his dream and show that we are not astronauts trying to fit in on the wrong moon. In 3,

2,

1.

Blast off.

I've never noticed the constant rearranging of the furniture in my house. Sometimes when I run into the coffee table instead of the couch I forget to ask why. It's ten past six. My mom move the furniture around like puzzle pieces, lifting up pillows as if they were gateways. She uses the creaks on the wooden floor to measure wheres she's checked already. It's seven now. Eight. Nine. My mother moves slower at time moves up. She reaches for a knife to cut something and see what's inside. My father awakens at ten. We push the furniture south to wherever it was moved and we sit in the kitchen as if we were normal. His raspy voice is enough to make us leave. My mom passes him a plate through the table. It slides and hits the floor. He leaves it be and he goes to work. When he leaves, we rest; dreaming about all the knooks and crannies we haven't checked in the house and how there has to be one place to leave. It's ten past six. My meal sets in. I begin to feel drowsy. I fall asleep.

In my dream, it feels to real. I wake up in a room. Bars surrounded me. There's a picture starting to fall off in the corner showing a path I started to make with my fists. The bars where Windows should be show blood from too many attempts of me trying to crush my brain through the walls and maybe giving my ideas to someone who can actually do something with it. Sometimes I run into the wall instead of my bed. A man walks by. Black suit: hat, microphone on his shoulder and gun in his pocket. He moves my gate open, then closes it, almost only to make sure there wasn't an escape. I'm so tired. It's seven now. Eight. Nine. The guy moves slower as he gets more tired. I try to reach for his keys through the bars but he awakes. He comes with a plate. He slides the plate through the opening of my door and it reaches the floor. I leave it be. I face the wall. Thinking. Tired. Still thinking. I turn to see who's watching on the other side. I face the wall. I reach for a knife to cut my wrists and see if there really are bees rattling inside. I throw the knife on the ground trying to open up this cage because it's so fucking small and I'm claustrophobic.

My alarm goes off.

Ten past six.

It's been 16 years.

And we're still looking for an escape.

2:15 in the morning and my head is covered with a blanket as heavy as my thoughts and my mind is all over the place. Creativity comes in waves when a memory is this vivid. The simple word, "what" is said like it's sung at a church questioning answers. I had no explanation for why I was so memorized other than the fact it's you. A moment where the sunlight shined perfectly on our skin. I know the human heart beats 4,000 times per hour but in that exact moment mine was palpitating 4,000 a minute and when two star crossed lovers feast their eyes on something they've been craving for too long, they take it. No more fields of misopportunities. No devotion for salvation and no artificial flavor because each time when I'm laying on my lovers chest I'm afraid if he can hear my breathing patterns and how they're not synced up to his so I intertwine them to be perfect; just like him. But in this moment was all natural flavor. A wall being broken as we saw it. With my head tilted upward and yours faced down we locked eyes.

3:20 now and nothing is to be heard just like staring at one another feeling each other's heart beat blossom at the sound of our names. I'm left sitting here thinking about how that moment changed my eyesight. I no longer saw you as my other half, more as a piece of me. We come together. I will no longer think I will be never good enough for someone else to ever love me, but think about that time we shared secrets with silence. Your eyes weren't just brown, they turned into my favorite color with our lips pressing firmly against each others. Creating sparks to light up, the Fourth of July.

My weakness? Where to start. I'm bad at cooking I'm bad at laundry I'm bad at homework. I'm bad taking criticism and staying on task. I'm bad at being happy. I'm so weak at commitment and promising things forever. I'm bad at love. I'm bad of staying on track. I'm bad of remember what happened after day 425. I'm bad at a lot of things, but I'll try my best working here.

When I feel lost,I always go back to this one spot.With swings creaking and the kids laughing in the distance it's somewhere I'll always go.Although,Being in area your so found of is a lot like childhood memories.To left there's the play ground with the slides all rusty because no one cares to clean them.To the right there's the library with the librarians you couldn't stand and if you look in front of you, it's blurry.there's this piece inside of you that you can't find and you start shoveling.Digging deep within the abis that holds your thoughts.You peel your eyelids open making it seem like your staring at the girl who broke your heart while she's laying there handing you another.You can't see what's in front of you and you think she's half the reason.These childhood memories contain only specs and puzzle pieces of what used to be known by you.This oblivion your staring into, this darkness is a beast dwelling on your behavior while your thinking of what's supposed be laying in front of you.You can't remember your childhood memories.You sit down.You cross your legs.Criss cross applesauce.And hope one day,the teacher can bring you to momma.

I am an elite idealist of love ;A hopeless romantic. I believe in love, in all the sweet, old timed ways of showing affection and consideration for the one i love, and I persist in that no matter what. I crave the heart eyes and late nights staying up until one another falls asleep. I would play with their hair until even the slightest noise of them breathing comes out. I'll shower them in a million kisses at noon and walk around naked in the house. I'm only one in a million, but I do believe that out of all the chances we get, love is not given easily. And with you here, It just shows how much I got lucky.

Listen. I don't know where you've gone. Or why you left us. I don't know how long ago. Or how close. But i know your not here. I know you can't breathe the same air as us. Or none at all. I know we all miss you. And we crave you here. And for some reason we look for charms flowing in the wind making a sound and consider that a sign of your presence. I know it was in January. I know I was home. I know I didn't get to say goodbye. I know I blame myself. I know I'm not the only one crying. And I know for some reason , even after all these years, you pop back into my mind like my first love. And maybe you'll never hear this. And maybe your not watching down on me. And maybe you don't remember me. But, the few things I remember of you are so distinct. But they will disappear one day. And that's not my fault. But I just wanted to remind you. To remind you that I hope your proud. Of me, of grandpa, of your daughters, of your son and your grandsons and granddaughters. Because without you here we are different. Differently struggling throughout different streets. But we all hope one thing, and we hope you are proud.

I'm scared of history quizzes and geometry tests and seeing who stays and who leaves me next

When I am scared I see the faces of those who's fate I destroyed and I think about the consequences when I shouldn't be thinking at all but all I can do it's think and think and think until my brain can't think anymore.

That's not it though.

Im scared of cuts sinking into the veins of my skin

I am scared of coughing until my lungs deflate

I am scared of being alone in a room filled with people

I am scared of being apart from the people I've known the longest

I am scared of getting too attached to someone who left years ago

I am scared of what I saw when they came back

I am scared of looking into the sun for too long because even then my eyes don't burn

I am scared of falling asleep and waking up to a quiet house

I am scared of repeatedly telling myself to breathe

I am scared of her.

She is who I am afraid of.

She is the one who takes my eyes and staples them back so I can't blink and miss something

She is the one who shakes my eardrums

She is the one who counts the cracks on a curb

She is familiar.

She is

I am

I'm scared of me.

maybe I want to be at this party, maybe I want to be here surrounded by intoxicated tongues and smoky eyes, maybe I want to feel something other than sadness, maybe I want to feel, calm. Calm as in the burning feeling I'm supposed to taste when I swallow vodka, it doesn't actually sting so why are so many people choking on it? Calm as in that tingly sensation I start to feel thorough my fingers. Calm as in my fingers attached to his. Calm as in him. He is calm. I am sad but I mistake it for calm. I am calm, I am calm, I swear to god I am– he's leaning in, I shouldn't be here. No, stop thinking that, I am calm, I am not sad, just take another shot, I am not sad, I deserve to be happy for once. "Wait—" I say, he looks so calm and I ask him if he wants a drink, and we drink, one, he stares at me like I am beautiful, two, I begin to see double of everything, three, him and I become a part of the intoxicated tongues, four, I choke this time but mistake it for laughter, five, oh gos in yhink I hsd too much ti deink, six, his hand grips my waist and everything I do is sloppy, six, he tells me his name but I can barely focus, six, we kiss, six I feel something, six, how many shots have I taken? six, he kisses me again but my lips feel like they aren't there, six, he asks if I want another shot, seven, I forgot how to count, eight, he says something and I can barely hear him, nine, his voice starts to fade, he is calm, ten, he is gone, eleven, I am sad, twelve— (I just want to feel calm.