Heroin pt. IV

I lay down, wait and watch closely,

I know what’s coming now. 

The closet door slowly creeps open, 

As the hour gets later and later.

You crawl into my bed,

Cuddle me to your chest. 

How was your day?

I ask in fear,

You tell me it wasn’t very good.

But tonight you’re tired, 

Can we deal with this tomorrow?

Tonight you hold me close,

Whispering you love me,

Your lips mouthing the words into my hair.

But tomorrow,

Tomorrow is is where you strike.

I anticipate all day,

I lay down,

You lay down,

Pull me close,

To make sure I hear you.

I listen silently,

You are the reason why I am this way,

You are just too much to love, 

Everyday. 

I love you when I can,

You don’t deserve more when I can’t. 

You broke me first remember?

No one could always be nice,

To someone like you,

Someone who inspires so much hate,

You weren’t a good person then,

And you’re not now.

I listen silently.  

You are lucky,

To get what you do,

You can’t possibly expect more from someone,

From someone who loves you,

But someone you have,

Also caused so much hate inside,

I sob, you tell me it’s okay.

You tell me you’ll never leave me,

You tell me how much you love me,

Convince us both to stay.

Tell me everything is my fault,

Tell me I created this,

Inside of you.

Tell me I created the life I’m stuck in,

Ask me if I love you, 

Of course I do.

Ask me if I’m happy,

We’re together forever,

I am,

You tell me you’re not,

I’ll never be as fun,

As the alcohol.

I’ll never take the pain away,

Like the drugs.

I am your bona-fide suicide,

Attempt waiting to happen. 

It’s a race for whose heart,

Gets broken the most,

Who can forget the least,

Whose skeletons are the worst,

To lay beside.

And all night long,

You whisper to me,

Through my tears,

All night long, 

Until morning. 

Until it’s time to decide,

Whether today you love me,

Or today you will hate me.

The ghost that never leaves.

My life long friend. 

Just Call Me Juliet Because I Am the Downfall

 What am I to you?

Other than a home to hate,

A closet and a well kept haircut.

A companion for your late night,

Movie notions.

A warm body so you don’t wake,

From your dreams alone.

A sometimes memory of your youth.

A reason to never seek more,

From life.

Someone to talk to,

When everyone else snubs you.

A failed attempt to be something,

To you. 

A distant idea you never missed.

The number one thing, 

You never needed. 

The nagging thing,

Standing between you and happiness.

The bitch you wanted revenge on.

An alive and well reflection,

Of your behavior.

So you can hate us both.

The thing you almost wanted.

Something for you to abandon,

The way they abandoned you.

The cause of all wrong-doing.

The whore that never saw you.

The sociopath that never,

Cared for anything.

The small pleasure inside,

When you think you’ve won.

The always there, never ceasing,

Villain in your story. 

The girl not even a mother could

Love. 

Heroin pt. V

 It’s not 5:30 but goddamn,

It feels like it could be.

You creak the door open.

I had a bad dream.

Can I come get in bed?

The word no,

Screaming in my head.

As my body instinctively,

Moves to make room for you.

I miss you, you say.

Did you miss me?

How does one not miss,

Their favorite little skeleton,

I tell you.

You curl up between us, 

And look at me with those eyes.

Eyes I haven’t seen,

In a thousand years.

I’m sorry, I say.

You tell me that you know,

That’s why you have to keep,

Reminding me,

So I don’t forget.

Thieves don’t deserve,

Peace from their crimes.

And I stole,

All that was good in you.

Can I hold you tonight?

You tell me to,

Hold him instead. 

But I can’t make,

My arms reach out,

To the man,

Who is fueled by hate for me.

Please don’t leave,

I ask of you.

I don’t want to be alone.

Then make him,

Want to do it.

I don’t know how,

I sob into the night, 

As you disappear,

Leaving me with,

Everything I destroyed. 

A Ghost Story

Why am I nothing?

A nonexistent blimp on 

No ones radar.

The text message

No one ever waited on.

The name no one 

Ever spoke.

The girl 

No one ever asked.

Orphaned into her

Own abyss. 

And the harder 

She tried to be something

Other than nothing

The less attention 

Everyone paid.

‘Till she really only 

Existed in her own head.

If you speak in a forest

And no one is around to 

Hear it

Did you even really 

Speak at all?

Are you even 

The molecules inside you?

Just made up of 

Unheard tears.

Cried over those 

Unmoved by her words.

After all, who moves

Out of the way 

For nothing? 

No one.

And no one even noticed. 

Love Is a Reward, and Sometimes You’re Not Worth It

 

Wishing I was dead

Because it’s better

Better than watching you chew 

my emotions.

Spit them out with an ugly grin. 

Tossing and turning,

in what isn’t supposed to be an empty bed. 

Nothing but thoughts of the pain 

in my head.

Dragging my heart all over town,

like it’s a demolition and you,

Well you, you need the prize money. 

Wishing I was dead 

Because it’s better 

Better than all the tears,

that make me hate myself. 

A silent house, 

the place where laughter came to die. 

Alcohol is better than conversations, 

and quality time are those rare moments

you’re not totally alone. 

Care is a two way street. 

Care, as in I care for you

And you also care that I care for you. 

Abandoned,

that’s what living here is. 

Alone,

just like the place I grew up in. 

The place where I love you

is only important if you’re acting fine.

Wishing I was dead

Because it’s better

Better than being told I’m impossible,

Impossible to make happy. 

While I scream so loud I can hear

nothing else, 

“Just love me.”

But did I really scream,

But am I really horrible,

Or is caring enough to notice when 

someone isn’t okay, a deal that’s off 

the table. 

Holding and hugs are only for good girls.

“Everything is going to be okay,

I still love you.

I’ll always support you,”

Seemingly exist only in my head.

But the sadness, the sadness, 

that’s not all in my head. 

Seeps into my bones,

whispers in my ear,

a permanent chill I feel. 

Love is a reward, 

not something meant for everyone. 

Can you do your tricks for me today?

Anger and sadness are bad behaviors.

You lose control, you’re a freak,

you’re the reason no one loves you,

you. are. the. problem. 

Mental health isn’t for everyone. 

Unless that everyone is how 

the things you feel inside,

affect them. 

Needs aren’t met, life continues. 

Pins drop, dogs bark, you are still

alone.

And no one notices.

Real as in Relative to Him

 Sit down, shut up, 

and smile. 

Communication is a one way street.

Hurt feelings are just misheard things, 

that serve absolutely no relevance 

to your real life. 

You've spent your whole existence doing this. 

You know the drill. 

A little more of this, a little less of that. 

Losing pieces of yourself to appease your fellow people.

Nothing new, I just thought this was different. 

Love and acceptance your inner child never found, 

don't have a place here.

A smile you perfected at thirteen. 

Practice it long enough and no one notices. 

In the floor of the shower, 

Is your only place to just fully exist. 

You're supposed to laugh there, 

And spread your legs here. 

Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it. 

Half of you can become all of you, 

if no one ever sees the other half. 

Chin up, go cook dinner. 

Tell him everything is fine. 

If you just try harder, 

you'll be his perfect person. 

Someone can finally love you. 

Where the hell is my off switch?

 

Dear Mase,

I hope this letter finds you well, but if you’re anything like me, it won’t. That’s how this whole blog started in the first place. Everyday for a very long time, I would write you a letter. I just missed you so much and I thought if Mase were here right now, what would I tell him? The whole blog was originally supposed to be letters to you. Now, it’s just filled with broken pieces of my life. Little orphan Samantha to be put on display for all of the world to ignore, just like they always have. Do you feel like anyone has ever seen the real you? I used to think that if showed people all of you, that was the only way you knew whether or not they really loved you. Modern Samantha is much more sophisticated in the ways of the world. No one really cares about the real you, as long as you’re a version of yourself they like. I think maybe I just wasn’t meant for all of this. I care about the real in people, I care about how they are. You never want to show me the real you. I think that’s sad. I’ve met several versions of you and they are all my favorite. I just think maybe I wasn’t intended to be around other people. I’ve always been an orphan, which is totally irrelevant, until you realize that being an orphan, means you never got fulfilled as a child. It means when no one loves you, you’re not really surprised. When no one cares about the real you, it’s just another day. You know, my whole life, I always thought if I could just find one person in the whole world who really cared about it, and took my hand and took me far away from everything else I had known out of life, I’d be the luckiest kid in the whole world. But the truth is, at least in my case, there’s a reason no one ever really loved me on the inside. I’ve spent my whole life altering myself to be less emotional, less unhappy, less fucked up. I thought having a home would change those things, that was stupid. A fraction of yourself is still yourself, right? I think you know a little bit about that. The difference is, people would still love you, you’re scared of what’s on your inside, not them. I, on the other hand, am best served when my inner child is buried and shut down. When I die, do you think anyone will really care if they knew the real me? Do you think they’ll even know the difference? Not if you smile big enough. There’s a reason I never had anyone really there for me. There’s a reason none of them spent time with me/ There’s a reason I was always last. There’s a reason every single person I have ever known has left me abandoned. I guess they all did me a favor? I never thought the shit that happened to me would come back and bite me in the ass, no matter who said it would. That just makes me a whole idiot. But it’s good, teach them early. People only want the absolute best version of you, it doesn’t matter what inside of you has to die to make that possible. I don’t think there’s a single person in my whole life that was ever happy to see me. I was always best served quiet and ignored. No one ever cared how many nights I spent awake alone, no one ever counted how many birthday’s I spent alone, no one ever, never, not once in my whole life, laid down beside me and cared about how I felt inside or what was going through my head. No one ever texts me and asks me if I’m okay. Why would God put you on a planet surrounded with people, and no once has anyone ever listened without the need to respond and hear themselves talk. I’m still alive, that’s all that matters to everyone, right? Just once, I just wanted one person to ask about my insides. I hope wherever you’re at right now, you feel surrounded by the people that I know love you. I think your insides matter. You used to be a great listener, and I think I really needed this. Life won’t be so bad. I’ll do better for you. I’ll be happier, smile more, feel less, throw away sadness, it’ll be great for you. I wish you wanted to talk about yourself sometimes, I’m not totally ugly on the inside. Wishing you good things for your future. – Samantha