"fuck the poets of the past, my friends.

there are no beautiful suicides

just cold corpses with shit in their pants

& the end of the gifts."

postsecret is amazing.

the battle

for my heart

is not waged

by any men

nor the pull

of femininity

it is the war

of good and evil

|| another-proser ||

author's note:

my father used to say

that the most important lesson

is learning how to fall

and how to get back up

I'd like to modify this lesson

into one I taught myself

-----------------------------------------

take a deep breath and stand. take the hall pass and head out the door as if nothing is wrong. avoid the teacher's eyes. if it's in the middle of a lesson he will be sure to give you a look, but pretend you don't notice.

go to the nearest bathroom. look for feet under the stalls. go into the one farthest from any occupied. lock the door. sit down and let go.

do not rub your eyes or worry about your makeup. touching your face will make everything worse. let everything flow and worry about it all later. don't worry about anyone else in the stalls, they don't have to know who you are. cry as long as you have to.

wait until the bathroom is empty to exit the stall. asses the damage.

soak a paper towel with cold water and press to your eyes. do not rub or scrub, only dab. reapply makeup of you had the foresight to bring it with you. if you have contacts and also carry glasses, wear your glasses, they hide almost everything, plus you can say that your eyes were red because there was a scratch in your contact.

take a deep breath. head back to class. sit down and make some excuse about your dumb contacts or allergies or anything, really. they will believe you.

hold it together and try to pay attention. chances are your teacher is already mad, no need to make your day any worse

"Oh my gosh, mom. You'll never guess how much fun I just had it was AMAZING. Oh my god i had such a good time."

"Okay, bye. Love you so much mom."

Yeah, that hurt overhearing the conversation of the girl sitting next to me on the bench.

Because i'll never have that.

I'm never going to have that "mother-child" bond.

Never.

Ever.

It's not possible- impossible.

It hurts hearing kid's love their parent's and it hurts hearing how easily they can talk to them.

It hurts.

It hurts.

Everything hurts.

You wonder why I always skip "The Best Day" by Taylor Swift.

You'd say "i guess you just don't like hearing about the bond between a mother and her daughter, do you? Wow. What else should I have expected?"

No, Fuck you.

I don't like hearing that song because it squeezes out tears from emotional scars. It hurts hearing that song-

Because that's not us.

I hate hearing about their love and they're support and their communication

'Cause you can't do that.

And I can't either.

That's not us, and it can't be.

It can't.

I can't.

We can't.

This year I learned that I can't trust my heart.

I'm not interested in getting words of reassurance that "Time heals all wounds", keep that garbage for yourself. I learned that if I invested everything I was and had in someone, they would still find a way to show me the ultimate disappointment. I learned that love was an overly exaggerated idea for two individuals. Sure, the world can use your love and in some cases make you a better person, but that's where I must draw the line. I have also suppressed my will to approach physical or mental attractions, I have found so much more in myself in this way, and have killed far less of my personality and mind as well.

Persevere and conquer, in all feats.

This year I've learned that love is real.

And it is so far from what I thought it was.

I've learned that it's not about changing yourself,

Or forcing another to change.

It's about accepting and allowing.

Allowing that other person to be just who they are.

Allowing and accepting them for all they are.

And in doing so,

Learning to do the same for myself.

Open up yourself to the beautiful, wonderful opportunity of being loved. It is terrible and fearsome, but once you have known it, the sweetest thing in all the universe. Open your heart to the possibility that maybe, just maybe, there is someone out there who can actually see the beautiful, broken, twisted little soul inside; someone who will love it regardless. The transformation in indescribable.