Someday
Someday..
You will return.
Someday..
I will see your smile again.
Someday..
We will get to hug.
Someday..
I will feel your arms holding me tight.
Someday..
I will feel love.
Someday..
I hope to hear you whisper three words of truth and love into my ear.
Yet..
You being gone, someday is only a dream. So, someday may never come.
moving on isn’t easy
When you left, there was a hole that wasn't there before, and I wasn't entirely sure how to make it go away again. Every day was the same as the last day, and I kept waking up, not sure how I'd make it through the day. I would go through the motions, praying that no one would notice that I wasn't okay. I couldn't help but feel alone, even though I knew I wasn't. I knew I had my friends and family by my side, but I couldn't not feel as if I was alone. There is nothing like the feeling of being lonely in a room of crowded people. That feeling is miserable and hateful, and you made me feel like that. You made me as if I was no longer good enough for you. I went through the motions of my life because of what you did to me.
You don't get to show up now. You don't get to walk back into my life like you didn't completely devastate me. You gave up the right to call me yours when you walked away without a glance back. This doesn't work like that. Life doesn't work like that. Love isn't something you can flip on and off depending on what you feel like on a certain day. I loved you and I believed that you loved me back because you said so. I took you for granted, and lost my heart and my mental health because of it. So I'm sorry, but no. You don't get a second chance. You don't get to know me again; I've moved on.
Am I healed? Not even close. But that doesn't mean I don't want to get there. You want to know how I plan to heal? Without you. I plan to find myself again, and I plan to rebuild myself in the person I want to be, without you. Does that mean I want someone else? I don't know yet. But I want to find out. I want someone to be there when I find myself. But I don't know how it will end. The one thing I do know, however, is that I want you as far from me as possible when it does end. You broke me, and I will fix myself. But you won't get to break me again. I won't give you the chance to. Because love, love is something I can't pick or choose. But I know damn well I will never choose you again.
Things People Told Me When I Said I Was Graduating Early, and My Internal Struggle
You can't leave!
You are the only reason I come to school!
I'll miss you so much!
I can't imagine school without you!
All my best friends are leaving me, not you too!
Please don't go!
But I need to . . .
Why don't you take easy classes next year?
You won't even come for the cheap college credit?
Have a half year schedule!
No one understands . . .
What are you going to do?
Where are you going to college?
What are you planning on studying?
What do you want to be when you grow up?
I don't know!!
I'm not graduating early to go to college early
I'm not graduating to get on with my life
I like school
I just can't do this anymore
The stress is too much
I'm not leaving you
I'm leaving the situation
I can't stay to help others anymore
I need to put my oxygen mask on first
I need to destress, take a year off
Learn how to enjoy life again
Wait, you have anxiety?
You always look so put together!
There's no way you are that stressed.
Ohhh but I am.
I wear my mask of confidence very well
I've trained myself over the years.
But I can't hold it up much longer.
I need to go.
Well, I'll miss you!
I'll miss you too!
But even for you, I can't stay
I'm sorry
The scent of childhood
Childhood smells
like my baby
that day
I buried my nose
in his neck
and found
his warm baby smell
was gone
replaced by the scent
of fresh air, sunshine
and
the sweet sweat
of growing child.
I was thrown back
to when I was young
running outside
with friends
away
from the comfort
of Mommy
to
life.
I smelled
this
and
eyes filled
heart ached
for I knew
my baby
was
no more.
A
All awesome American, African, Antarctic and Asian authors are adept alliteration artists and are also average autobiographers. Although African authors are all about antelope antler allierations and art. American authors are about angry alligator alliterations. Antarctic authors are all about army ants. All Asian authors agree avocet alliterations are an admirable ambition. Astronauts also author assorted anthologies about alliterations and astrophysics. Acclaimed Australian archaeologist, Andrew Ayers, authors awesome articles about alliteration and anthropology.