-fin.

it’s about now i start to drift into my ginger moments and
forget whose arms wrap around my waist and it’s about
now i get scared and remember that i need a
vaccination and to learn about injustice, inherited and
that the light died and the season changed and so have you.



“you’re tired.”


and i was trying not to get broken in class with the teacher talking about disorder and abnormality and being in therapy and statistics to show all that and i am seventeen in an hours time and just don’t care and i thought it’d be easier to breathe in the shower but the steam is too heavy and i’m drowning, i’m drowning and all i do is essays and background reading and i’m tired because of it and in some classes i stare at the boy in front of me and wonder about his corrugated cardboard hair and pencil like fingers and i wonder if he could love me, if i loved him back and it’s all because i’m lonely.

and when i’m lonely i forget the difference between seams and your fingertips and i end up writing letters to you, which i know i’ll never send, never be happy with, and i write to you as if you’ve died and i guess it’s because you sort of have and when i’m lonely i hurt and i hurt myself and pain coils across my muscles like bile and that’s all too true and i’m afraid to close my eyes because of what goes on up there and the pictures that i can’t get rid of, i can’t stop them and that’s scary too. when i’m lonely i think of my dad and how he’s dead and i think of my mother and how she’s buried and i think of you and how i miss you and how i keep on missing you.

and i’m missing things i never had.
and i’m missing times that never lasted
and i’m crumpling because you’re not here.
and i’m wishing for something real.
and i’m in therapy because i wasn’t enough.
and i’m scared of the future
and scared of the past.
and i’m scared about love and life and me.
and i’m scared about not being okay.

and i’m lonely.
and i’m hurt.
and i’m insufficient.
nothing.




"i'm sorry."