clumsy.

My oh my. I’m shaking. What if something could actually be true? Real? Oh gosh, it can’t be. It’s me.

I love him, though. Oh gosh do I love him. He’s the sweetest thing in the entire world. I can’t stand this. I’d like to grow old with him. I haven’t felt this way in so long. I feel like the most perfect person when he talks to me. I can see us together which I’ve never been able to do with anyone else, ever. I feel weightless.

I’m always so starstruck. Like they’re a famous movie star and  really exist and I’m making it all up in my head. But this isn’t think anything I’ve ever had. We have a spot, we talk all the time in the phone, it’s… real. I don’t exactly know how to handle it, and it’s all happening so fast. But I’m trying desperately to keep up.

“You make me fall for you. Over and over again.”
“I already fell! Noob. <3″
“Beat me to it, huh? Well I fell multiple times. You make me love clumsy.”

You are so fucking sexy. And darling, I never say those words. Ever. Usually, sexual jokes make me vomit. But I freak out whenever you make one. You’re changing me… Into someone…

…Who can have a boyfriend.

2:41AM.

And we were so cute
Beneath the stars, we felt so real
never felt so in touch with the world
or each other.
And I stood on your feet as you taught me how to watlz and who cares
that it was negative two,
All I wanted was to be more close to you.

“You are the cutest thing in the whole wide world,” he said. And I laughed.
And for once, I didn’t need to debate it, I just
smiled
and held on so tight
as the snow fell around us, so perfect, so fluffy, so light.
Like us.

And you kissed me all over as we sang I’m Yours.
I really did feel like yours.

I did.

But we’re home now.
I’m in my town and you’re in yours.
You still have her and he’s still waiting for me.
But I have to thank you
for the most perfect 2:41AM in history.

bits and pieces of brain ii.

“Hello?”
“IRIS!”
“Hey, Maxwell!”
“IRIS!”
“How was your day?”
“IRIS!”
“Hahaha, you’re so cute.”
“IRISSSSS!”

“Why do you like girls like them?”
“I guess you’re right, they are bitchy… But they look so good.”
“Adom. You’re the most shallow person I’ve ever met.”
“…Am I really?”
“You like someone for their body. Not for their minds, or lack thereof.”
“Iris, why do you hate them so much?”
“Why do you love them so much?”

“John, may I have this dance?”
“Well… I–I don’t know…”
“It’s okay. I’m not going to take advantage of you. You know me.”
“Do I?”
“You do. Come, on, kid. Trust me.”
“I don’t know if I can yet.”
“Do something everyday that scares you.”

“Hey, Max? Thanks for being so nice to me.”
“Anytime, darling! You’re so cute! Let’s have a playdate ASAP!”
“When are you free?
“Max?
“…Max?”

plastic.

You know, kid? You’re really something else. Really. Good show. It makes so much sense that even though you know full well that she’s a bitch and a slut, you’re still going after her like she’s a piece of meat. Well, guess what, Adom. You mean nothing to her. I’m sorry to say it, and I wish it wasn’t true, but god. I something wish you would love me so that you could be loved. Because you’re certainly not loved by her. She only loves herself, sex, and whoever will give her sex. And you’re not one of those people.

Please. Please, for once listen to me. I’m begging you to take a step back from all of your realities and see what I see. I see you for the boy who writes all this poetry and lyrics that he won’t share with anybody. I see your for your music, for your voice, whether it’s singing or just expressing itself. I see you for how much you care, how much you wish someone else cared. Adom, please, cut the self-loathing. I fucking love you. More than you know. But it’s not like any of this matters.

I’m just everybody’s Jeremy.

paper towns.

The glow of the city lights.
So fake and full of fear.
By day, these cities are rushed through by the hustle and bustle of getting from here to there.
There to here.
And the people move through the paper towns.
And their paper hearts beat in synch with the crowd, and their cut-out mouths don’t make a sound, and their drawn on eyes always look down.
But in the dark of the night, the paper towns illuminate with luscious and luxurious lights.
And there’s a pseudo-beauty of contrast.
And the night crashes and thrashes and thrusts itself upon the cities.
And all the people peek out, searching for something beyond getting from here to there.
There to here.
And the people move through the paper towns.
And their paper hearts flutter at the thought of something more.
And they find a temporary solace from the sidewalks taking them there they need to go.
And for a night, they go where they want, not where they must.
But their sanctuaries are only temporary
For no one can run from the sun.
And they wake up and they go from here to there.
There to here.
And the people move through the paper towns.

piñata.

Have you ever gone to a four-year-old’s birthday party?
Where the parents think it’s a marvelous idea to string a paper mache animal from the ceiling and have the children take turns smashing it.
And oh, how they have such a blast!
They get their eyes choked and they can’t see what they’re doing.
And maybe that’s the point. Maybe that justifies it.
And they spin round and round as the anticipation for decapitation grows strong and fierce within them.
And they swing drunkenly at where they think it might be hiding.
Swing, miss. Swing, miss. Swing, hit.
There’s tears.
“But pinatas can’t cry!” and the littlun takes off the blindfold to see he’s hit the child who’s throwing the party.
And there’s crying and screaming and hustle and bustle.
But after the drama is over, the child decides they want to try.
The process repeats, but the child is out for revenge.
“How wrongly I was hit! I am superior, I am the most important!” And they spin round and round as the anticipation for decapitation grows strong and fierce within them.
Swing, miss. Swing, miss. Swing, hit.
And they rip off the mask just in time to see the animal they’ve destroyed fall to pieces on the floor.
And for less than a moment, they feel a speck of remorse.
But it made such a satisfying crack! And everyone’s diving in to get a piece. And, after all, the prize inside is all that matters.
And that alone should justify it.
And it does.

everything.

“Oh, by the way…”

I love you.

I like you.

I want to be with you.

I think you’re absolutely wonderful, no matter what anybody else thinks.

I think you’re beautiful.

I can’t see anybody else but you.

I don’t want to see anybody else but you.

I get so frightened whenever I’m with you.

I get butterflies whenever I see you, even if you’re 100 feet away.

I feel like I could always love you.

I get so awkward and nervous. I’m not really that weird person that I am when I talk to you. You just make me feel too many emotions at once and it’s disorienting.

I have always loved you.

“I wish I could tell you everything that’s on my mind.”

“Why can’t you?”

“Why can’t you?”

write.

I want to write something that means something to somebody. Something that makes them look at where they’ve come and where they’re going, something that really hits someone hard. Something that makes someone think.

Because, so far, I’ve got nothing.

I write useless things, about trivial problem, trivial people, fake worlds and unrealistic problems. I need to write about something that can and has happened. So I can give someone the chance to really feel.

I have the gift of writing. I am eloquent, I can do it. I just need the time. And the energy. And the courage.

I can’t be afraid that no one will care about what I have to say. I have to just write. And maybe, one day, a lonely girl or a heartbroken boy will read my story and feel just a little better because they’ll know that they’re not alone.

Music can get out alot of what you need to say.
But just free-flowing ideas, things that just pour out you, without fear of putting it in the wrong time, or not rhyming correctly, those are the words that will really matter to someone.

I wasn’t made to dance.
I wasn’t made to sing.
I wasn’t made to act.
I wasn’t made to think.

But I was made to write.
I know that for a fact.
And that’s a lot more than a lot of other people’ve got.

sometimes.

Sometimes, life gets too hard.
It pushes you in a direction you don’t want to go in, or glues you to where you’re standing when you desperately want to get out.

Sometimes, you don’t know what you want.
At first you think one thing is perfect and then something else walks by with a little more oomph and you think “This. This is perfection,” but then something else walks by and the process repeats itself.

Sometimes, you love something when you really shouldn’t.
Something that gives you comfort, like a bad habit, or a bad boyfriend. You want to keep it, no matter how aware you are of its unhealthiness, due to a lack of wanting to change.

Sometimes, people make choices for you.
A choice that you know you don’t want, and you beg and plead for it not to happen, but you either give in or it happens anyway without your control.

But other times.

Other times, you feel completely safe with one person.
Whether it be your partner or a friend or a parent. Anyone. But you just feel like no matter what you say wrong or right, they’ll get you. No matter what you do, they won’t hold it against you, even if it’s the worst thing you can do.

Other times, your wish comes true.
Something you’ve been wanting and yearning for for an eternity has finally shown up at your doorstep. Something you could only dream about, right in front of you. The perfect relaity.

Other times, you’re happy. Truly happy. And there’s no rhyme or reason, you just are.

Other times, everything is working out perfectly.

And sometimes it’s not.

But when things are bad, know they can and will get better. And when things are better, don’t take them for granted and recognize that you have it good; don’t waste the time you have with it.

Time is of the essence. Don’t waste another second doing something you don’t want to do, being with someone you don’t want to be with, letting someone step all over you, what ever is keeping you from your full potential. Let it go and be everything you want to be. Because you can be it.

another.

You’ve fallen yet again for someone that will never be me. I’m not enough for you. I never was.

So how’s the new girlfriend? I mean, it’s only your second this month! Oh, no, I’m not being spiteful, I just keep getting crushed by your ability to bounce back and date yet another girl who will never be me. Really, it astounds me how you can just keep dating girl after girl and not even give me a second thought. Really. It just makes me feel great.
Keep up the good work.

No, I’m not being saracastic! Why would I do that? Sarcasm’s for people who are hurt or trying to make a point! I’m neither of those! Oh, no. Never have I been hurt by you! That’s unthinkable, uncalled for! Why would you do that?

I seriously just cannot believe how you sit back and smile as girl after girl runs through your line of vision and you don’t even notice the girl in the backround, waving her arms wildly and jumping up and down, desperately trying to get your attention.

 

“So how’s the girlfriend?”
“Um, she’s okay.”
“Well, good! I’m so glad that the girl who I’d love to be right now is okay. That’s just great.”
“Iris, are you being sarcastic?”
“No, Adam, why would I be being sarcastic? God, I have no reason to be sarcastic! Why would you even think that?”
“Iris, don’t be smart with me.”
“Oh, but my sweet, sweet Adam. I’m not being smart! I’m just simply stating how you’ve ripped me apart! Taken me in your hands and ripped and pulled until there was nothing left but juice and pulp!”
“…God, Iris. I don’t want to hurt you! I don’t mean it! Why are you doing this to me?”
“Would you rather me give you a nice buttered up lies on a silver platter? Or the truth. As cold and hard as it is.”
“I—I don’t know.”
“Well, maybe you should decide. Because if you want me to lie to you, I will. Gladly. I don’t want to feel like this as much as you don’t want to be the cause of it. But I do. So if you want me to lie about it, I will. Because I’m sick of feeling this way as much as you are.”
“I don’t like you feeling so hurt… But I don’t want to keep hearing about it.”
“Well, then I suppose this is where we say goodbye.”
“Wh—what do you mean?”
“If you don’t want me to keep talking about it, then I won’t talk anymore. Goodbye.”
“But why can’t we talk at all anymore?”
“Because I don’t want to have to hide things from you. I’d rather a clean break than a choppy one. Wouldn’t you?”
“I—… I don’t know…”
“Well I do. I finally know exactly what I’m talking about.”

done.

I’m sick of it.

“I like Jeremy!” “I like Nikolai!” “I like Adam!” “I like Adom!” “I like Siddhi!” “I don’t like anyone!” “Oh, wait, I like Adam!” “No, Adom!” “Maybe Nikolai!” “No, Adam!”

It’s pathetic. I’m pathetic. And I don’t want to be pathetic anymore. I’m becoming vehemently sick of myself. And I don’t like it.

I’m done with my happiness depending upon whether or not I see “seeyouinparis11 has signed on” at the bottom right on my computer screen. I’m just done.

So I’m going to cut myself off from them. All of them. All of the guys that I think I like, I’m not going to talk to them anymore, until I’ve decided that I’m really, truly, done.

I deleted Adam.
And Adom.
And Jeremy.
And Nikolai.

I’m not going to go to the library anymore. I’m not going to talk to Adom or Jeremy in school. I’m not going to talk to Adam on AIM. I’m just done.

Because my well-being is more important than a conversation or two.

I can train myself to be happy again. Like I was before.

…Or was I ever truly happy? I really don’t remember a time where my happiness didn’t depend on how a guy was treating me, or if a guy said “love you” to me, even if he didn’t really mean it.

Do they, should they, will they really matter?

Because I’m waking up from this nightmare. How’s your life, what’s it like there? Is it all what you want it to be? Does it hurt when you think about me and how broken my heart is?

It’s okay to be angry and never let go, it only gets harder the more that you know. If you get lonely and no one’s around, you know that I’ll still catch you if you’re falling down. We came together, but I’m left alone. I know how it feels to walk out of your own. Maybe one day, I will see you again and you’ll look into my eyes and call me your friend. But until that day, I’ll wait with a smile, because I know my greatest achievement was your denial.

I suppose the best thing that happened to me was your denial.
Because it showed me how to truly smile.
I was wasting my time dreaming in a harsh reality.
My wake-up call was that there’s no you and me.

breathe.

Shh, it’s okay. Breathe. Just breathe. No, don’t look at the phones. They’re not going to ring. You know they’re not.

But that doesn’t make it any less painful.

I know, I know. But it’s only until June. That’s only three months away.

Only? Seriously? Are you drugged? Only is a word when you say “I’ve only had one drink,” not “only three months.” You might as well be saying “only three years.”

Stop being so dramatic, it’s not that long. And you’ll talk occasionally. Hopefully.

Please. That’s doubtful. Plus I want her parents to like me, not hate me for calling when she’s grounded. For three. Months.

Iris, you said yourself that nothing’s going to change. Your friendship won’t be affected.

My heart will. And besides, you have no idea if she even wants to continue our friendship even though we can’t talk.

Iris, does that sound like her?

No… But on the other hand, three months of no communication isn’t healthy for a friendship.

On the other hand, you guys became friends even though the whole Adam-fiasco.

On the other hand, I only wanted to be friend with her to see if she was nice because I thought Adam liked her.

On the other hand, you stayed friends with her because of who she was.

On the other hand, I can’t tell her how radically and permanently she’s changed my life and how I might resort back to the same horrible person I was before I met her. How miserable I’ll be without her. How much I miss her. How she won’t even be able to comprehend how much I love her.

She’ll read that.

Maybe.

 

 

 

I hope you read this.