I Remember Hating Nostalgia. (the remix)

I remember.
I remember.
I remember.

I remember the bone shattering sound of his breath.
And my breath.
And the muscles that ran up his spine like smoke.
I remember the “almost” and “maybes” of never being good enough.
I remember all the wars inside myself.
I remember waking up to, “You’re broken. You need help.”
And in that moment, my universe and all my pieces were exposed.
I remember hating myself.

I remember looking at his wrists and my wrists and thinking how they looked so perfect together in a 
world so full of hate.
I remember August 27th. It was raining.
I remember how much he loved hating me. And how much I hated loving him.
I remember how my bones screamed inside of me when you touched me.
How I smothered them with a pile of skin that didn’t feel like mine, just to keep them quiet.
But that skin got heavy. And my bones weren’t strong enough anymore.
I remember looking in the mirror and wishing on all the stars that I didn’t have to be me.
I remember the burning in my throat and how my hands were shaking and my heart got cold.
There was so much blood and acid.

I remember the morning I woke up covered in nightmares.
He smelled of coffee, cigarettes, and s i l e n c e.
And he was beautiful.

I remember all the sad poems she wrote. 
How she ran out of things to keep herself numb.
I remember how we owned the sky, and nothing could touch the paint in our universe.
We were beautiful accidents made in hell, and we found a place to breathe.
And that was all that mattered.

Until now.

I thought of the perfect title and then forgot to write it down.

 

Dear friend,

 

I don't exactly know how this works, but I heard that you listen.

I've been thinking.

About tragedies and beautiful people.

And how they can sometimes be the same.

How she was a terribly real thing in a terribly false world.

I think that's why she was in so much pain,

even though no one knew.

 

Until now,

Sam.

 

Don't Cover Your Ears. (the REAL real talk)

"This isn't the beginning of something beautiful. This is the end."

But despite the monsters inside my heart; I found Paris.

And Paris found me.

And she let the bad weather of words come and pour all over me.

They spilled; and hearts shattered. Just like I said they would.

And maybe it was just mine.

But my soul-painted universe cracked wide open.

You saw my imperfections.

You held my heart.

And it was brutally beautiful. Brutally beautiful. Brutally...beautiful.

I mean...we were all beautiful once. 

But at the end of the day, the sun...and the moon...and the stars; they don't seem so important anymore.

I find myself drowning in the beauty of smiles and the miles of endless words. But I'm tired of eating the sugar-coated ones. The ones that kissed the inside of my neck with hell fire as they went. 

Damnit! Feed me happiness. Shove it down my throat. I want to feel something. Even if all it is, is choking on the wrinkles of my own smile. This broken frame and these tired eyes were meant for more than just the darkness.

There's this thing crawling inside my heart. It makes my skin tingle and itch with desperation.

Because I'm scared as hell.

Scared of the truth behind these eyes;

Scared that to close them because I might miss it all.

Scared that if I let go, it would mean adding another failure to the already overflowing piles in my backyard.

I'm claustrophobic is this skin;

Covered in little white memories from the people I've touched.

I'm scared of my reflection.

Scared that I'll see you on the other side of that mirror.

Perfectly flawed and covered in stars.

And that I'll fall in love...

All over again.

Yours forever,

Just Alex.

this is one of those "shit gets real" kinda talks.

that's not actually the title of my post. and this isn't actually it. i'm in the deep and insanely aggravating process of writing it. and i might post it tonight, and i might read it tomorrow. or i might just go to Paris and hide there forever. 

either way. it's been lovely.

Paris Was Mine.

I met Paris on Tuesday.

We were categorically strangers.

And that first day was so thick you could catch the excitement and unsurity on your tongue like raindrops. 

And there was a thirst for the unknown that was beautifully unsettling.

At first the map seemed almost more important than the view.

Surrounded by humans that walked through static with painted faces and glazed eyes; desperate for the truth. 

We were all tourists in a place we did not understand.

But Paris became the map of my heart; 

something unspokenly captivating just waiting to be discovered. 

I tore at the edges wanting more, but never fully satisfied.

I was so helplessly drawn in by the unkind and honest lips of this dangerous place. 

And the words...they were all I wanted.

The sky was red with rain. 

And it poured out the words they could never figure out how to say.

Because they never sounded quite right in the sun. 

That sky was perfect.

Stained with memories that turned into cosmic masterpieces as they danced through my veins and across my tongue.

I was finding myself for the first time. And it scared me. But it was so beautiful I never wanted to stop.

We were endless.

And it was endless. It seemed.

But what goes up comes down. 

And despite what Paris told you, the sky is actually blue. 

And the painful truth, is that it is all ending. 

Everything ends. 

Even Paris.

And as much as I wanted Paris to be infinite, there weren't enough words in my lungs that could keep her.

 

my life story...

I'm sorry about this. I just felt like I needed to post something...and I've been so frustrated with my writer's block lately. And I'm scared as HELL. And...uuuuggggghhhhh. 

That's all. I'm sorry.