Torn

Have you ever wanted to move on
But your heart wouldn't let you?
No
I don't like him that way
I have standards
"Like?"
I hate brown hair
Under 6 feet
Musicians are fucking psycho
There's not a X, V, or Z in his name
And there's a U after the Q
"Those aren't standards, you're a picky bitch."
My heart stills reads Skyler Raye
"Sky's heart still reads EX."
Blah Blah Blah
"It's okay to have a crush."
I DON'T HAVE A CRUSH
But I should
Here I am
With a guy I find very attractive
Who I think I have a chance with
And I'm finding excuses
To why it's never gonna happen
What am I so scared of?
Could it be possible to replace my Raye of Sunshine
With a Ray of Sunshine?
Or could I just wash my hands clean of it?
Pretend I never thought sinful thoughts
What the hell am I so scared of?
I could move on
Succumb to their teasing
And find happiness
Or I could bask it what will never return
Why do I keep choosing the second option?
It's like I'm fighting with the me inside my head
Half of me wants to replace him
Half of me refuses to move on
Half of me says he's not good enough
And half of me says I  don't deserve anyone at this point
By the way, I'm two whole people
According to that equation
What am I so afraid of?
If I move on
Does that mean what we had is dead now?
And that you're permanently gone?
I gave you parts of me
That I gave no one else
If I give myself to him
Does that mean it wasn't special with you
And that it's not special with him?
Does that make me a whore?
Easy
What am I so afraid of?
I'm afraid I lost my best friend forever
And by letting you in
It's confirming it

Crisis

Everything is in order
Everything is perfect
Going fine fine fine
Black
Time of crisis
Revert to panic mode
Everything is gonna be bad
I'm gonna be here all night
I'm gonna die
I'm gonna die
I'm gonna die a virgin
I never made peace
With the one person I ever loved
And I'll die without that
Hurry up
Hurry up
What's happening?
What's going to happen to me?
LEXI WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!
HURRY THE FUCK UP!
WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!
The power has returned
And I think that shocked me just as much
Causing a mini heart
As I praise the Lord
For coming back just in time
I wish I could handle a crisis better
And not revert to panic mode

Gentlemen

Intellectual intercourse
In a cashmere sweater
Now I really have to pee
But pee doesn't come out
I said no to the world
To my friends
To my family
To you
And the fact you respect that
Makes you so much hotter
That was the best night of my life
My dream come true
Dancing and screaming
As my hero stood on stage and touched my hand
It would have been the best night of my life no matter who had gone with me
But the fact it was you
Puts a little moth in my chest
And a teehee on my lips
%100 real
No faking it
Truthful about everything
Nothing to hide
But you tried nothing
You respected me
I told everyone I know
That there's no attraction
That it's not even a question
Then how come all night
As I layed in my bed
Hugging my Charmander
I pretended it was you
I could talk to you for hours
Just listen to you
Talking about life
Spiritual warfare
Rights and wrongs
Half of it almost made me cry
And the other half
Could have had me on my knees
If I wasn't in a car
It could've been
But I chose it not to
And being a gentlemen out of respect for me
You chose not to for me

Painting Grapes

I remember in sixth grade when I found out her parents had gotten divorced. She has been my friend since I was about 3, we used to go to the same church and my mother taught the preschool there, so her and I had grown up together. Her family had always seemed like the ideal family. Asian dad, white mom, one daughter, one son, perfect straight A students, mom was the homecoming queen and voted most likely to succeed her senior year, they all went to church every Sunday. To the naked eye, they were what every family wanted to be. What my family had wanted to be.

In sixth grade, she told me she was getting free lunches, and it didn't seem to click in my head why she would get a free lunch, both her parents were employed and they lived in a nice house. I asked her why and she explained to me that since the divorce, she had been put on her mom's income early, which qualified her for free lunch. I was shocked to see that such a perfect American  dream had sunk.

Throughout middle school, we had transferred to separate schools for seventh and eighth grade, and were then reunited once in high school. We would usually correspond between letters and emails, and we would send each other copies of our poetry, comparing and contrasting, ripping each other to shreds and praising each other.

In high school, she always wore sweatshirts everyday and underneath she always had a camisole. One day we went out on a lunch date together, but it was too hot for a sweatshirt, but instead of wearing a tank top, she said she 'didn't want to just have bare shoulders' so she borrowed one of my long sleeved fishnet shirts to wear underneath her tank top. She borrowed in again when she wore her short sleeved dress in the talent show to recite poetry and she then hennaed every inch of her arms so anything on then was no longer visible.

The summer before the previous once, I had gone swimming with her in the river and then spent the night at her house, leaving her in a tank top, the entire time. I noticed thick, white, straight lines down each of her arms, they looked like mine, but instead of the way mine blend in with my porcelain complexion, they completely stuck out against her dark skin. I never asked her about them, but later that night when i saw her take a pill for bipolar medication, I felt the need to ask her about that.

One day I was sitting in her kitchen eating, and I noticed all the walls in the kitchen/dining room  were decorated with grape vines. The vines went down and around every wall and there must have been tens of thousands on grapes on them. I asked her mom if it had been the type of stick on application that one buys at a Home Depot and then it looks exactly like paint and she said "The vines were." So, I asked how the grapes were done and she said "I painted each grape separately myself. I went through a time in my life, and to get through it, painting grapes became therapeutic for me."

So, I guess the point of this whole recollection, is I guess that's what I'm doing right now. Group therapy, workbooks, three new prescriptions, counseling, etc. I'm painting grapes. It's going to be boring as fuck at some points, and it's gonna take a long ass time. There are some points where it's gonna be kind of fun, and there are some points I'm just gonna want to give up, because it's goddamn tedious. But once I'm done, I can look at the walls around me and know that it's finally over. That I made something beautiful and it truly didn't take forever to fix it. So, for the time being, I'm painting grapes right now, but I know there is a finish line and in the end it will all be worth it.

I'm Sorry

I'm sorry that I refused to do simple tasks when asked to
I'm sorry that I'm stubborn about doing new things
I'm sorry that changes of schedule and routine upset me for no apparent reason
I'm sorry I wore grey pants when you said wear black
And that I wore a striped sweatshirt when you said solid dress shirt
I'm sorry I splashed you once or twice because he splashes me much more every night and I thought that was what I was supposed to do
I'm sorry I got food on the floor when I had to dumped 104 trays of food into a bucket in half an hour without dumping in silverware and garbage as well
I'm sorry I gave you attitude because you wanted me to watch a movie I hated
I'm sorry I can't stand any of your music
And that you can't stand any of mine
I'm sorry that I don't understand how to do basic math and science
Yet I know quantum physics and psychology
I'm sorry I cut your hair too short
Even though you originally said buzz it and I thought I was doing my job correctly
I'm sorry I yelled at you
Because you made fun of me too much
I still had no right to embarrass you
In front of all those people
I'm sorry I didn't want to sing second
When I told you every day I sing first
I'm sorry I wouldn't open up to you
When you made me cry in front of everyone
I'm sorry I'm not what you expected
For a perfect student
For a seventeen year old to look and act
I'm sorry I have nightmares about you every night and I can't support my friends if it involves ever being around you
But most of all I'm sorry
For being a human being
For being a child who never deserved what you threw at me and expected me to be
I'm sorry for ruining festival
Because you took my medicine and way of communicating to my mother
So I got scared shitless and had an anxiety attack on stage
And my hot pink mohawk made it that much more obvious
I'm sorry for spending seventy dollars on that dress to be in uniform
And then have you expect me to find something else to wear
I'm sorry that I was never perfect
That I was a human being trying just as hard as you to get somewhere in this world
But you had no right to treat me like you did
You had no right
And I have no reason to be sorry

Next To You

The new girl walks in
A Russian gypsy
Stands next to me
Towering over
And weighing less
The music starts
And the routine begins
It's your first time
And it's my millionth
Yet I'm completely off rhythm
And you're already with the advanced routine
I'm short
Like, one of the shortest here
And I have the second biggest thighs
Short, ugly Manny Santos thighs
Short, stocky Italian legs
Why is every single new girl?
So tall
So thin
So hot
So fresh
So talented
I start to think I'm doing good
Till you stand next to me
I see us next to each other in the mirror
And I feel so sick
I hide behind the instructor
So ashamed
And she says
Move over there
Between Pretty Tall
And Prettier and Taller
I want to see you in the mirror
I wonder if she knows
I don't want to see me in the mirror
I walk into my room in shame
Seeking your comfort
But you wouldn't understand
You're part of the problem
When I walk with you
You stand almost exactly a foot taller than me
Tanner
More lean
I'm pretty sure
My stomach comes out
Further than yours
And my thighs are thicker
If guys really do like big butts
Then I must be the most likable
I hate being me
I hate how embarrassed you must be
Of how I look next to you