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last night i fell asleep next to you on your parents' old couch i remember the way your voice sounded when you talked about how you're planning on driving one-thousand miles away from this city as soon as you turn eighteen and find a place of your own, a place that has an old coffee shop at the end of your street that you visit every day just to talk to the cute barista (she seems to be interested in you but you're both too nervous to say anything), a place that your dad will never visit because he isn't interested in you anymore (not that he ever was; now that you're eighteen, he doesn't have to pay child support anymore), a place that has

the first time i saw you was on a sunday afternoon at the grocery store. it had been raining all day which made my hair more wavy than usual (you told me that you liked my hair better that way) and my socks were damp because my stupid worn-out sneakers had holes on the bottom that weren't very convenient when i stepped in unavoidable puddles. we made eye contact as we passed each other on aisle four. i was reaching for some cereal, and since being five-foot-one is not to my advantage, you grabbed a box for me off of the top shelf and gave me a warm smile. i spent the next five minutes trying to slow down my heartbeat. i saw you again on ais

it's eight pm and you're getting ready for bed when you hear your parents fighting again. you run towards your bed and grip on to your teddy bear, hoping that they'll stop yelling soon. ten minutes later, they both come into your room and kiss you goodnight, as if their whole fight had never existed. two years later, you overhear your best friend talking to some boy about how you still sleep with your stuffed animal and you see the two of them laughing in your face and running towards the other playground to play hopscotch. you didn't realize at that point that she would be your enemy for the next eight years, but you were more concerned tha

I am five-foot-one and one hundred and eighty-nine pounds. At least, that's what I was when I last checked. My mother asks me if I’ve lost weight and tells me that I look thinner today, as if telling me that I look thinner instantly solves all my problems. I shrugged and said that I didn't think so because of all the cookies I devoured last night during a Friends marathon. I’m told on a regular basis that I look good - for a fat girl. Last time I checked, adding a qualifier to a compliment isn’t a compliment. No, I don't want to hear about this new diet that you saw on tv. No, I am not unhealthy. No, I don't want to lose an

I found a space big enough for the two of us that will keep us warm and safe, a space that doesn't look all that great but a space that you and I can call home. (When you were nine years old, you ran away from home and moved into my tree house because that was the only place you felt welcomed in.) Run away with me to our hideaway and I promise that everything will be alright. We can take care of each other and make so many amazing memories.

You asked me if I thought the universe does things for certain reasons, and I said that I suppose so because after all, the universe brought us together and there had to be a reason for that, right? And there has to be a reason for why the universe created happiness and joy but also pain and heartbreak and there has to be a reason why the universe let you leave me so quickly, even after I begged for you to stay.

1. i wake up every morning at seven-fifteen and get dressed in five minutes. i usually have leftovers for breakfast but some mornings i use the excuse that i feel sick because sometimes i'd rather feel empty. 2. my mother tells me that the reason why i'm single is that i make myself look unapproachable, as if that hasn't stopped anyone before. she says that if i was more friendly, i'd probably be with someone by now. 3. when i was 12 years old, i came home from a long day of school, absolutely craving some food. as i was eating my third slice of pizza, my brother called me a "hungry hungry hippo." to this day, i have one or two slices at mo

Our hearts are far beyond repair; bullet wounds and scars decorate the exterior and the poison starts to find its way inside but we both know that the pain won't last much longer. We both knew that we were doomed to succumb to the darkness inside of us that filled us to the brim. As long as we die by each other's side, then this won't seem as bad, right?

Warning! Possible side effects may include (but are not limited to) the following: an existential crisis or two, slight headaches, an decreased interest in things you once used to enjoy, slight nausea, and an increased feeling of mental numbness.

the doctors are telling me to keep taking my medicine but i don't feel quite right when i swallow those small pills and the doctors keep telling me to go to therapy but it's uncomfortable to talk about you to some man who doesn't seem to understand how i'm still in love with you even though you died two years ago and the doctors keep telling me to stop hurting myself but it feels better than when i'm staring at the ceiling and wishing that you were right next to me.