Sometimes we don't see ourselves the way we really are. It's you that's getting the world wrong, not the other way around.

I issued an ultimatum today but I already know how it's going to turn out. I'm packing you up tomorrow. Someone had to do it.

it's okay to cry sometimes.

Just when I thought I was rid of you.

It's hard work being your biggest cheerleader and your toughest critic. I thought I was relieved of my duties, 1 new message and you're back (to your old ways). I don't know what it is about you that's always got me cranked to 11 but it wears me thin. In my weakest moments I wish that I could keep you.

I know it's all wrong.

That day that the leaves followed me home - you wouldn't know because I never told you (you don't really ask), I thought I might. Yes, we could have. You ruin who you love.

At what point do you have to say enough is enough? It has never been more clear to me - I deserve so much better. I've made a lot of mistakes but I'll give thanks to gods I don't believe in that I didn't give you that. The more I learn about you, the less I like. The lies are beginning to pile up and every word that comes out of your mouth makes my stomach turn and my blood boil. I get sick with the thought of your hands on me, your taste in my mouth. Even still I find myself making excuses on your behalf, but learning to compromise, to respect, to be considerate - they're all things you should have picked up by now. You asked what I see in you, and now I really don't know. Selfishness, mostly. Things make more sense now - it's no wonder they always leave you.

I'll be damned if I waste one more thought on you. You're not worth my trouble, my time, my grief. Go off in the world and screw up your life, sleep with girls that you're incapable of respecting, and then blame everyone else for your problems. I'm done with this, with you.

"what's the meanest you can be to the one you claim to love?"

This hurts me more than it hurts you.
Cliche', but true.
You've always been an asshole but the lying thing is new.

Addicts are all the same. If you think they're friends then I don't want to be included under that title. People who don't have any regard for their own safety aren't gonna lose any sleep over yours. Real friends help you solve your problems, they don't encourage you to develop new ones.

I can't decide if I'm sabotaging myself or fighting for you. Is it that I think you deserve better or that I don't think that I do? Have I really not made myself clear? I find it hard to believe that you don't know what this does to me. Loving you is easy, it's talking to you and being in your presence that's wearing me thin. You're only mine when the rest of the world is asleep, when you're still and warm and just close enough to consciousness to rub your thumb over the back of my hand. I want to get inside you and tear out everything that she said to make you this way. I want to kill her for making you think for one second that you weren't good enough, that you didn't deserve love, that you weren't strong enough to deal with your problems. I want to be a mirror so when you look at me, you can see yourself the way I do. You don't need to be numb, you're strong enough, and when you think you're not I'll be here to help.

It would be so much easier to give up on you but I just can't bring myself to do it.

It's time for you to choose, me or the drugs.

I really need to get myself back together.

Why do I continually let people walk all over me? I'm making the same mistakes over and over and it's just wasted time. Wasted experiences. Wasted effort. With someone who is on the path to being a waste of a person. I don't get how someone can change so drastically so quickly. Am I that stupid that I'm duped by pathetic, insincere declarations of affection? I can't even flesh out my thoughts right now. Mercifully, I'm about to pass out.

I hate that I can't fight without feeling guilty. I can't remember the last time I was this stressed. I'm ready to snap at the smallest provocation.

Once again, you're doing it all wrong.

For all of my shortcomings, I know that this wasn't any fault of mine.

You made it on my list too, you know. People who have let me down.

nobody move, nobody gets hurt

Decisions, decisions. If you have to ask yourself if you're really attracted to someone the answer is probably no. Sometimes loneliness makes us do things we're not proud of. Is this what two people using each other looks like? I've been exploring a new dimension of "friendship" with limited success. I need to take a step back and really think about the what and why. Patience. It's just not my time yet.

Gateway Drug, by Erika Meitner


When I asked him over beers one night
what the meaning of life was
my friend Jon replied, We all think we’re ugly,
but we’re not. And for once

I agreed with him—how seductive, the idea
that arbitrary cruelty might evaporate
if everyone felt beautiful
in their own skins. I went to talk

to the local eleventh grade class
about writing poetry, was reminded
how everyone is asymmetrical then,
heads huge and ungainly, limbs restless and taut;

the kid in the back row hiding behind a curtain of hair
carving swear words into his arm with the staple remover,
the girl in the second row sizing me up
with her jeweler’s eye. In high school

they showed us films once a year
to boost our self-esteem, keep us
off drugs—lavish multi-screened productions
with titles like The Prize, soundtracks singing,

My future’s so bright I gotta wear shades.
We are what we think we are, and one thing
inevitably leads to another—drugs to sex, sex
to cigarettes. A head leaning on a shoulder

and suddenly you’re naked, I’m naked,
air conditioner washing over us like ocean,
moon shining off the brick wall in the back
of a Tribeca art gallery, the detritus

of the party around us, trance music spinning
on a turntable, making out high like high-schoolers
in front of someone else’s locker. Remember
being the kid who had to get your lunch or math book, ask

the lip-locked couple in front of your locker to move?
Did you say, Excuse me, tap them gently?
I never had that courage, shared
a neighbor’s book, bought hot lunch. But tonight

we are as cool as our daydreams were then,
magazine pages and mirrors, straight-edge skaters,
drama queens, hair gods and punk princesses
smoking in the back row, the health teacher’s nightmare,

impossibly drugged, and when I touch
your clay lips with my iron fingers,
trace your beveled collarbone
with my fluted mouth, the tune I play

pushes hallway lockers open with gale force.
Uneaten lunches and uncovered books fly,
everything slams, and blinded
we all get a good, fluorescent look at each other.

I'm not stopping.

This past year was an exciting one. Landmark. One of the most important in my life so far. A year of beginnings, and a few notable endings.

I moved to Chicago. It was a dream 9 years in the making and I finally took that step. It really is all I hoped it would be and more. The city calms me down. I feel like this is the best decision I've ever made.

I started art school. Another dream fulfilled. Ever since I was a little girl I've wanted this. I'm surrounded by this incredible community of creatives and we're all here, working hard to try and live life on our own terms. We love what we do.

I made some life-long friends. I came out of my shell. I fell in love. I got hurt. I said things I'm not proud of. I was supportive and supported. I made a lot of people happy and they did the same for me.

I grew.
But I still have a long way to go.
23.

I wish that you could accurately convey pure, violent rage with a keyboard.

"Part of Eve's Discussion" -- Marie Howe

It was like the moment when a bird decides not to eat from your hand
and flies, just before it flies, the moment the rivers seem to still
and stop because a storm is coming, but there is no storm, as when
a hundred starlings lift and bank together before they wheel and drop,
very much like the moment, driving on bad ice, when it occurs to you
your car could spin, just before it slowly begins to spin, like
the moment just before you forgot what it was you were about to say,
it was like that, and after that, it was still like that, only
all the time.

I am the patron saint of lost causes

Are there words stronger than "fuck you"? Take some responsibility.

I can't believe that this is what I've been reduced to. I was stupid to ever trust you.

I build things up in my head to be infinitely better than they ever were or could have been. All I want is for my brain to be quiet and my stomach to stop twisting. It's tempting to just give in. I have to keep my constant mantra: that which doesn't kill me will only make me stronger. I was due for a little tough love from myself. Keeping my phone within reach is as reckless as smoking while pumping gas. I would set you on fire if I knew I'd get out alive. Someone remind me that you're not worth the effort. Someone save me from myself.

write it down but don't ask for help

revisionist history.

Blank pages have more potential for beauty but the straightest line I can draw is from my brain to the keyboard. It's a dangerous disconnect in that modern war sort of way. A city is destroyed with the push of a button. Game over.

You checked out early. I need lessons on letting go. You could use refresher courses on apologies and fidelity.