Wanting part 1

I want to be done with this. Physics is driving me crazy. I want to work in a tropical rainforest where the birds and the frogs are so loud that I can't sleep properly for the first two weeks. I want to get back to knowing exactly who I am and what I want and where I'm going. I'm tired of feeling lost and confused and frustrated and having to do stupid things that don't apply to me. I'm tires of being treated like another student who's going to med school because I'm not. I'm going to make a bigger difference. I'm used to being supported but I also know how to face those who are armed with "you can't"s. Because I can and I fucking will. You can try to stop me but I've come too far to turn around and be deterred. I just wish I didnt have to slog through all the bullshit of required nonsense when really I know exactly here I want to end up- and it doesn't have to do with a category three GE. let me follow my passion- is it really so hard to believe that ive known what I want to do since I was twelve? Because I do know. I have known. Stop trying to mold me into all the cookie cutter filler students who just want to go to med school so they can please mommy and daddy and live in a house with a white picket fence with a white husband and white kids and white walls that feel more like bars. I want to escape from this apathetic crowd that I'm drowning in. Someone help me please- tell me I'm not the only one who cares.

Writer's block

they said
"You're the worst thing to happen to my writing."
I didn't understand what they spoke of, until
I put my pen to paper only to trace your name
to see how your last and my first look like the best poetry i could write.
because it rings in my ears like it should have when I was still in middle school.

all that comes out is a stream of consciousness
and I'm in a broken boat without a paddle
floating past lover's metaphors and eloquent verbal melodies
I just wave at the banks of syntax
as i flow past anything decent to perform.

Heat

they said
"You're the worst thing to happen to my writing."
I didn't understand what they spoke of, until
I put my pen to paper only to trace your name
to see how your last and my first look like the best poetry i could write.
because it rings in my ears like it should have when I was still in middle school.

all that comes out is a stream of consciousness
and I'm in a broken boat without a paddle
floating past lover's metaphors and eloquent verbal melodies
I just wave at the banks of syntax
as i flow past anything decent enough to perform

Maybe it would help if I told you that I'm new to all of this.
I have no idea what I'm doing
and I thought that when it was right, I would know
but this- feels so damn perfect.

But I should warn you- I may be more innocent than I seem.
I've yet to know how it feels to be caught up in the moment
bodies intwined, defenseless and silent
to go past the point of no return.

that being said:
I want you to make me sweat.
have my desire for you pour through my pores
so that the shimmers on my skin
look like heat waves rising off the pavement
and I'll think that you're a mirage.

I want you to know the roads of my body
not just the well traveled highways of my face and my hands
that all eyes have traveled over.
I want you to know the unlit backroads
that you can only find by taking the long way home.
but understand that some drivers don't know the meaning of the word respect
they blazed past yield warnings and through red lights
leaving skid marks on my psyche.
But I've since let the water wash away and fill the cracks in the pavement.

So
I want you to turn me into a storm
let your fingertips send lightning bolts through my chest
the thunderous response will be a purr in my throat
your name, murmured into the rain
that trickles from my shoulders to my legs, like the path of your eyes
when you put me in a bed of rumbling clouds.

I want you to make me your fireplace.
wrap me around the heat that burns so bright in the night
the one that flickers in the windows of your eyes
flames that licks the bricks with soft tendrils
leaving an ashy charcoal
the perfect tool to write with

I'll turn you into a poem.
each curve of your body etched onto the page
make your mind into a metaphor
swirl your soul with the ink of my pen
translate your love into letters
that i'm almost too scared to let leave my lips.

so these words are said with apprehension
in hope that the fingers that snap together
will turn into flint and tinder
starting sparks to ignite your fire
that keeps me so inspired
keeps me standing up here;
knowing that I have the courage
to stand naked in front of a crowd
to strip myself down in front of strangers
but I'm afraid to let you touch me
to learn the secrets of your skin
but when I'm finally brave enough
know that I won't hesitate to let you in.

Doctor's Note

I think I need a doctor.
Because my brain won't tell my lips what to say
whenever you look at me that way.

All my witty comments are lost
with my quick comebacks
missing somewhere in the fields of "what ifs" and "could be's"

So I think I need a doctor
because I've contracted laryngitis
I'm speechless around you.

Words just won't do
to explain the knot that ties up my tongue
like a five year old's messy shoelaces
when your hand touches my shoulder
It tingles like there are miniature lightning bolts in each of your finger tips
I would say that I can feel the static electricity between us
but our energy is dynamic
it changes with each time you lock eyes on mine
how your smiles make me rhyme

So I think I need a doctor
because something is wrong with my balance
I can't put one foot in front of the other
without thinking
that I'm falling for you.

And I'm not very good at communicating that
so I let my actions speak louder than words
but apparently, you're not listening

so maybe some flashing neon signs will make this more obvious
bright lights that spell out
I like you.
those three little words that get caught in my throat
whenever you bite your lip in the middle of a thought

Because I want to be the girl that holds your hand in public
so all your friends will whisper "oh, that's her?" when I walk in a room
the girl that you stay up all night with
just to talk.
But talking gets old, I want to be your complement
I want to be the up when you're down
the blue to your orange
the lock to your key
the answer to your question

So say yes, you'll be mine
and when February comes around
you'll be my valentine
that you'll stay by my side and I'll stay in your mind

because I don't want to have to go
to the doctor's
and ask them to fix
a broken heart.

Enough.

You would think that after two and a half years, this would be easier.

You would think that after everything we've been through, everything we've put each other through, I would know better.

You would think that given recent events, I wouldn't be so stupid to trust you again.

but you don't really think about me, do you?

After two years of emotional ping pong, we both got hit back and forth across the table enough times to quit, but we didn't- and have the bruises to prove it.
we were stuck on a relationship rollercoaster, terrified of the drops but loving the ride anyway.

Finally figuring out that calling you my best friend was enough. That neither of us really wanted anything more, that loving each other without being together wasn't as painful as we thought it would be.

But now, I don't even think I know you anymore.
You've been poisoned
with the belief
that you're better than everyone else
simply because you can hide your cowardly face behind greek letters and a newly found social life

you lost yourself and everything you stood for.
you became what you never wanted to be.

I remember you telling me how you hated your older brother
because he didn't care about anything you did; he disregarded your actions and all you stood for
he let the devil on his tongue do all the talking.

but I guess being an asshole is genetic because you've got that gene too

don't act like you care what i've been up to
we both know that we're too old to play pretend anymore.

Don't act like you don't understand why I'm upset,
your attitude makes me sick.
physically makes me uncomfortable, like I need to purge something from my body
and I wish I could vomit memories
but you're stuck in my mind
afternoons spent together are branded in my brain
unwanted recollections of a person that I was stupid enough to trust over and over.

I told you that you were my kryptonite, my one weakness
I thought you would respect that
I thought you would respect me.

but obviously, I've been wrong before
I thought that we could be friends
but you're just too fucking cool for that.
So I'm sorry that I'm not your bro
that I don't sleep with the bitches
that I don't act like I'm the shit when I'm an insecure little pansy
and I just want to protect my ego

except wait-
I'm not sorry at all.

fear is a four letter word

You want to know why I'm scared.

I can't tell you.

but I have three reasons to be.
and maybe they'll help you understand.

One.
The first. my first. first real boyfriend, first time being a couple, first time staying up late because for the first time, reliving memories was better than dreaming.
He was my best friend turned lover. A sweet 16 relationship- because I was 16 and he was sweet.
Sweet in the way he said my name, how he would reach for my hand, how his lips tasted when they met mine the first time, how his breath felt on my temple when he first whispered
"I love you."

First one to break my heart. First one to lie to me.
First one to tell me that he didn't love me anymore.
No warning signs, no reasons, no explanation.
He was the first to deceive me and leave me.

Two.
He was comfort. I fell in love with his skin- all of it. How it smelled soft. I would lay next to him for hours, wishing that my fingers could remember every smooth inch of skin that exuded heat and desire. Tracing his outline into my bedsheets night after night. learning him, learning his touch, learning how to feel my own sparks of pleasure.

Wanting to give myself to him, to let himself in to the heat at the base of my being, letting him become the key to my locked secrets
but knowing that I couldn't. and trusting that he wouldn't ask.
But, he did. Knowing full well that he didn't love me, he became a person I never thought he would be.
and so trust was broken by his desire, his lust.

Three.
He was the tarzan to my jane. The jungle man of a foreign country to my city-raised but nature loving self. He was the unexpected, the improbable, the unknown. The potential for the rest of my life.
The one that I wanted the most, even though we were separated by an ocean
I was willing to cross every kind of treacherous terrain to get back to his arms.
and he walked the same electrified tightrope I was already on, with no safety nets to accompany our balancing act. trying to get to him.
teetering between sanity and taking a chance on someone who sent lightning bolts up my spine whenever he even said my name.
I was never so sure of anything until I knew we would be together. knew that he was the closest thing I would ever find to a soul mate.

Until he walked away. decided he didn't have the poise to stay balanced with me.
decided that I wasn't worth the effort.
and that another girl would be an acceptable replacement.

three reasons why I'm terrified of love.
irony is, I've never actually been in love.
I'm beginning to think that I'm just good at being deceived.
So my guards are up, my trust is broken,
and my potential with you makes me want to run away
because I've learned
that if you say you love me
you might take it back
if you say you can wait
you might change your mind
and if I think you're my soul mate
you might find someone else.

I don't expect you to fix me or help me through this
but maybe this will help you understand
that I don't want you to become a fourth reason
for my irrational fear
of four letters

Invisible

Shakespeare
Can suck it
All of those love sonnets and stories are so sappy
Always make me feel crappy
Cause there’s no Romeo
To my Juliet
Or maybe I’m Michael Buble
And I just haven’t met you yet

But that’s a lie, all my friends know
That there’s… this guy
He’s sweet, he’s charming, he’s handsome, he’s buff
He’s like a drug
And I can’t get enough

He’s the tall dark and handsome
That every girl swoons over
Creamy mocha skin and a smile
That reaches up to his electric blue eyes
That sparkle like there are two miniature stars on either side of his face
So that when he looks at me
I can only blush and look away
He’s like Beethoven, playing symphonies on my heartstrings
A sweet love song that I can’t find the words to sing
About the bruises and skinned knees I got when I fell for him


But whenever he walks by
In my head I’m poetic
But all that comes out is “hi.”
I’m this clumsy ball of nerves
Who laughs too loud at all your jokes
Even the ones that aren’t funny
When you smile at me, my legs turn to honey
And my girls say to just bee yourself
But I wish I was more like her.

The girl you pine over
The short, stick thin asian
With greek letters on her chest
Who always looks half dressed
Because she thinks leggings are pants
But that’s not the point
Of this love triangle

Because she’s taken and I’m not
But when it comes to love
I’m invisible
You see right through me
To gaze at her
Long sleek black hair
That I want to pull
Behind her ear
So she could hear me mention
How lucky she is to get your attention

I don’t understand it
Because that girl you drool over
Is the one I whipped past
On my way to the top
Of every class
Looking over my shoulder yelling SUCKAAAA
But you like her. Not me.

Mother ffffffff
Of mine, tell me I’m awesome and he just doesn’t see it
That he’s too busy watching Twig Legs
To notice who’s sitting next to him

My mom said go out, have fun, you’ll feel better and plenty of guys will ask you to dance!
Well… yeah… but they’re only trying to get in my pants

I’ve yet to find a decent guy
Whose best friend is Ed Hardy
Does the fist pump at every party
Arms look like miniature tanks
Pickup line is hey what’s your sign
Or shawty lemme buy you a drank
But you ain’t T-Pain
So No, thanks.

When all seems lost on my night out
I spot a nerdy wallflower
Who I’m sure would love to grab dinner and watch the Two Towers
So I saunter over with my best sexy hip swing walk
And I
Open my mouth to talk
But he
Cuts me off only to say
Sweetie you’re cute, but I’m gay.

So it’s back to square one
With my one square
Who prefers lines
Over curves.


I know I’m not the Kate
To your Leopold
So I’m resigned
To having lots of cats when I get old

But remember that while you’re chasing the girl of your dreams
My heart is tearing apart at the seams
And you can’t get why
She won’t give you a chance
She or even a second backward glance
When I could stare at you all day

Just know that when her rejection
Pushes you down, flat on the ground
I’d lie in the grass with you
And watch clouds go by
Until the sun was chased away
By the night sky
And we could gaze at all the little lights
That looks like fireflies
Who twinkle their wings
Like the ones that flutter in my stomach
Whenever you walk by

But I’m still an awkward caterpillar
And you prefer the slutterfly

So I’ll stay wrapped in my cocoon
Of shy glances and unspoken thoughts
Because I wish I could be what you want
But I’m just… not.

So I’ll stay hidden in the background
Emotionally camouflaged from you
But of all abilities I wished for as a kid
I never wanted to be
Invisible.