I really need to start believing in a god or something because I'm running out of things to distract myself with. I'm running out of things to save me.

And I die when you mention his name. And I lie, I shoulda kissed you when we were alone. What am I, darlin'? A whisper in your ear? A piece of your cake? What am I, darlin'? A boy you can fear, your biggest mistake? Cheers darlin', here's to you and your lover boy.

Looking in.

There's no one to talk to so I'm just going to talk to my blog.

You'll probably never read this. You'll probably never know that I'm still in love with you.
Even if you did read this, you would probably never know it was about you.
And it would kill me.
It was high school, I get it. We were young, we were trying to find ourselves, trying to be different...
It was scary, I get it. No one understood except for us.

But for me, it wasn't about the physical aspect. It wasn't seeing how good you could feel or how much you wanted me.
For me, it wasn't what everyone else saw. Us holding hands, us being different.
It wasn't about being made fun of.
It wasn't about what everyone else thought.
For me, for the first time and maybe one of the only times in my life, it was about the flowers that grew when we kissed. For me it was the electricity running through my body when you slipped your hand into mine. It was being able to hold you, to save you, to try as hard as I could to protect you from any harm, from anything you were afraid of.
It was holding you when you cried over everyone else. It was comforting you when no one else did.

And it's funny. Because you'll probably never read this. And you probably won't ever know how you really made me feel. I don't know, maybe I'm not still in love with you. But you were everything to me. Holding you in my arms was like holding all that ever mattered. When I was with you, everything disappeared. When I was with you, we were a secret, nobody had to know. It hurt, yeah... of course it hurt.
And you never understood. Maybe you never will.
You never listened when I wrote you a song.
You never thanked me when I gave you my all.
You never internalized my words when I told you I loved you.
I didn't mean it as a best friend.
I meant that I would die for you.

And you took that for granted.
You dated, kissed, loved others.
And told me about it.
And we meant nothing.
We meant nothing.

And it's funny.
Because you'll probably never read this.

I get it.

Alright?
I get it. I have allergies.
But I'm sick and tired of my allergies getting in the way of me being able to perform and try out for solos and shit like that
I'm sick of it.
EVERY SINGLE TIME I have something important come up, I lose my voice because the weather changed or some stupid shit.
I'm sick and tired of this.
I just want to sing and this continuously gets in the way of that.

On top of them, I'm stressed as ALL HELL trying to get all of my work done. Does it look like I'm getting it done anytime soon? No, it just continuously gets piled on top of me with no FUCKING mercy and my parents keep stressing me the hell out with everything THEY want to pile on top of me.
I just need a break.
I don't know how I'm going to get it, but I need a fucking break.

And I need my voice to come back.
I'm sick of this shit.

Allow me for a moment, to reminisce.
Allow me to think about all of the times an apology was necessary the times that apology never came.
Allow me to remember all of the kisses, the hugs, the three words, the apologies that weren't true.
Please allow me to remember the lies, the truths, the tears, the smiles.
I'm going to remember everything that's ever been said to me.
Every promise that has ever been broken.
Every promise that I kept.

Everything.
Just let me remember.
Just for a moment.

And so it begins...

I'm finally back at school.
I'm not yet readjusted, though... It seems like this is just a dream, that I'll wake up in my own bed back at home, surrounded by pink and orange walls, posters of bands I once loved, and stuffed animals from the various occasions throughout my life.
It feels like I'll wake up in my home, and I almost feel like that's what I want.
For some reason, growing up seems a lot closer this year than it did last year, growing up no longer seems like a possibility, it's a necessity. It's the only means of survival.
I have to teach, I have to learn, I have to live a life I've never truly considered.

I don't know what's next. I don't know how to get from college to my career.
And to be quite honest... I'm afraid.
I'm afraid of the people I'll meet, I'm afraid of the situations I'll encounter, I'm afraid to leave home and live on my own.
I just want things to stay the way they are... I want to wake up in my comfortable bed, even though it's a little bit too short for me.
I want to have all of my very easy chores at home, even though sometimes I'm reluctant to do them.
Sometimes it feels like I'm growing up too quickly.
I don't quite know where to go from here.
And it makes me want to go home.