excerpts from stories i will never write

how can i have the gall to wallow in my feelings at the slightest inconvenience-- destructive, self destructive. i'm ready to hurt something. i'm ready to hurt myself. how can i do this when i am surrounded by the fatherless, the depressed, suicidal,  anxiety-ridden,  addicted,  struggling, falling? gone, now. flash floods of emotion. is this what it's like to be bipolar? i wonder. --3.28.18

"I realized it, today. I always accept that I'm a loser, so that I won't be let down. But by doing that, I automatically lose. Without confidence in myself, I always lose." --3.25.18

"Strange. For someone who forgets everything about himself, you sure do remember an awful lot about me." --3.25.18

and i suppose  this will be my life, now. pushing people away  to keep them safe. ruining friendships because i'm scared of the future possibilities. closing up,  retreating, bottling my emotions so that i cannot be harmed. although-- i am more terrified  of harming another than being harmed. i cannot let anyone in and i cannot allow myself to latch onto anyone. how much different would life be if one facet changed? --3.20.18

summer night in my closet tears streaming down my face he didn't hear i didn't let him i couldn't  he wasn't ready i wonder if i should put all this to rest finally Father, let me know if he can bear it --3.19.18

i can't believe it. that you would be so self-absorbed to think that he wanted you. catching feelings in a couple short weeks. no. look at you. to jump to conclusions like that? what an idiot. friends do that, not lovers.  friends care. friends stay for you. how could you believe that he wanted you? never. you are sheltered. you are alone. you will stay that way, until-- until never. you will stay that way. so shut up and leave me alone.  --3.19.18

tell me why you loved them.  tell me all about her eyes. the one with eyes like burnished bronze, flecked with gold, who made you feel warm inside. tell me about the one with eyes like the deep blue sea--the tropics, green and gorgeous. or the one with eyes of forest-green, the eyes you could lose yourself in. tell me about her laugh, each one of them; different, but lovely in their own ways. tell me about how her hair felt when you ran your fingers through it, or how you always loved the way her long waves bounced when she walked. tell me about how her hair smelled like coconuts, but hers reminded you of apples, while the other's always smelled like fresh-baked cookies. tell me about how they loved you--fierce, soft, young and beautiful. tell me about how her nose would aways touch your skin when you hugged, but you loved the way that another's would breathe you deep before you pulled away. tell me about the late nights you had with each of them. tell me about how she'd

   He absentmindedly runs his hand over the mudstained, no longer white truck.  "It's old, but classic."    She smiles. "I like it." "It needs a little work."     "All the best things do." --3.16.18

"I love you." "Please, don't. Don't do that to yourself. It's a mistake you'll wish you never made." --3.15.18

i hate my big forehead. i hate my bumpy, too-big nose. i hate my too-wide mouth and smile. i hate my round face. i hate my stubborn, ugly curls. i hate my big shoulders. i hate my long, skinny arms. i hate my small nails. i hate my scarred up back. i hate my small chest. i hate my belly. i hate my misplaced, nonexistent hips. i hate my ugly, scarred, bruised legs. i hate my big feet. it's late at night and i hate myself again --3.12.18

"Strange. People are so different. I've noticed, I feel things differently than others. I've always known it, but I just figured out how to put it to words. I feel things like… like a firework. Loud and angry, quick and dangerous; intense, but short. It's like it all builds up inside of me, like a burning fuse, till I explode in rage and sadness. I lash out; I cry without ceasing. And then it's over in a flash and a bang. I noticed it in comparison to you, actually. You're more like a thunderstorm. Long lasting and sad, drawn out and brooding, depressed and steady. It's strange. Neither is better and neither is worse, of course. It's just fascinating, these things that make people different." --3.12.18

i knew this would happen.  i am finally the wolf king,  hurting who i love to keep them safe.  from myself.  from the future.  it was one of the hardest things i’ve ever done.  i tore my heart apart, doing that.  i hope i never have to do it again.  this is not how i wanted things to go.  i’m so achingly sorry.  --3.7.18

we carefully  portray ourselves to different people,  picking and choosing what parts of us to show. time to spin the wheel of personalities. who should we be with them? we cannot let him know this, but it will be okay if she knows. why do we do this? why is openness selective? why do we pour out our hearts to strangers and wish those around us would  know us like they do? why do we act differently around some people than around others? why are we not consistent? of course. it is simple. perhaps it is because we are scared. terrified that openness with him will break us, but openness with her will cause us to heal. is it true? family leaves. friends leave. lovers leave. everyone leaves. maybe-- how curious. maybe we are open to strangers because they are so open. accepting, not judging. they are blank slates. maybe we are open to strangers because it is as if  they have already left us like everyone does. --3.6.18

her eyes dart back and forth, still,  muscle memory kicking in. her fingers, too,  remember where to click. it's automatic. an unthinking movement. old habits die hard. she just wishes  it would fade  quickly. --3.5.18