To Her

Angels bleed and fall in silence Don't Let Me Down by Automatic Loveletter
In case you couldn't guess by the title, I'm dedicating this to her. She knows who she is unfortunately... And she's driving me freaking insane. I HATE CRUSHES SO MUCH. Especially this one because I know I have like no chance whatsoever. So anyway. Here we go, time to embarrass the fuck out of myself.
I don't know much about you, but if I knew everything, would I still be interested? I would like to say yes, but nothing is certain. I do know a bit, enough to know that my feelings aren't just random, hormonal instincts that move me from one person to the next. You are not just the next. And even if you are, I'll be stuck on the next for the next long while. You are different. In good ways, and bad ones, but these are what make you who you are, this next that I am stuck on. I know you can see it. My eyes betray my feelings, my giggles, you know, the ones where I sound like a cutesy four year old? Those aren't voluntary, nor are they normal for me. Sometimes I float on these feelings, high above the clouds, high from you and oxygen deprivation, due to the height at which these feelings have pinned me. And pinned me they have, like a decaying butterfly in a collector's case. My heart is pinned to this board and enclosed in this transparent box for all the world to see. Only you can allow me out of this cage. In case of love, please break glass, please pull pin, set off the alarm and let me know. But like all alarms, please check that they are real, that this fire is not a drill, that it wasn't just some suspicious smelling smoke that drifted in from someone whose reality just got twisted. My thoughts surround my heart, trying to break it out of this clear encasement, but like feathers they only float when the wind is in their favor. When this soft wind dies down, my thoughts plummet to the earth, turned from feather to rock, and find themselves dead and decaying in the depths of hell. When this soft wind turns into a tornado, my thoughts are ripped limb from limb, and find themselves strapped to the bed in a mental hospital, being shot up with sedatives. Next thing you know, I'm deep in a dream, dreaming of you and only you with no way to stop this. Apocalyptic feelings shatter my body, but leave my heart in this unharmed box. The world collapses around me, and yet the thoughts only swarm my heart, attempting to release it to no avail, attempting to release it in vain, attempting to set me free from this spell you've put me under. So silently, they scream. They scream the poems that I've written. La Luna, a new series, just for you, because the thoughts haunt me so. They scream:
The sun shines
Only for the moon
But gets all the glory

The sun shines
Only for the moon
So that it may light up
The darkest nights
And though it may be dimmed
By light-pollution
Of distant humans
It is no less impressive
It will never die

When the night sky
Lets loose the rain
Beautiful, but obscuring
The moon
But when the rain slows
Or clears
The moon is the most precious thing to behold

Shadows made by sunlight
Show us all the way
To hell
But the light provided by the moon
Brings us back
To life


Lying silently in wait
Underworlds will rise again
New, fresh, ready to annihilate
And when they attempt, the moon will save us all

These and so many more, these are the stories they whisper. About the way la luna has driven me so insane. How it has left my coherency and reasoning murdered, bleeding in a ditch somewhere along the highway I'm running from, the highway of denial and rejection. I run to you and from you, dropping analogies to and fro, attempting to get your attention, attempting the break the dam that holds my feelings so deep in my soul. The feelings that feed off my soul, blackening it into depression, unhealthy obsession that I can not seem to control. My eyes control my outtake, but my eyes are suddenly glued to the mirror that reflects my ignorant soul, my captured heart, my illogical feelings. I can't take this, so I write in hopes that once my feelings flow onto a page, and the ink helps them stick, but instead I somehow inhale the essence of this ink, releasing this disease back into me. So then I scream them out, but inhale them back in. They will not disappear. So the logical part of me picks up a knife and goes to murder these bipolar feelings, but my logical thoughts have brought a knife to a gunfight, and reincarnation takes a long while, so I am overrun with these emotions. Moksha, please, let me break this endless cycle. I am crawling up this mountain with the lowest energy, attempting to rise from the Untouchables to Brahman. What did I do to deserve this kind of karma? What sins did I commit that made Jesus want to strike me with these kinds of feelings? Zeus, Thor, please, I beg you, strike me with lightning, fry these feelings to nothing, for I know they'll not be returned, and I'll be stuck in this cage forever. Flying Spaghetti Monster, rip my heart free of this cage with your noodle-y appendages, Space Unicorn Gods, let me join you on Onowon. Just let these feelings free, and leave me be, un-tortured and somewhat innocent, only scars left to tell the story of this tragic event in the illogical, hormone-ridden brain of a fifteen year old.

So, um, this actually turned out kind of morbid. Whoops... >.< I dunno, just... heavy fucking crushes guys.

And I know her life is really hard and shitty right now, and I want to help so bad, but I dunno how. I'm just really awkward. And if you read this, I dunno, like ignore it or something. I don't want you to be, like, burdened or something. Or feel as if you have an obligation. I'm just overly dramatic, and I know you don't need any more drama. Your life is falling apart, and I know I've said this like fifty thousand times, but I'm sorry.

And on that note, um, bye.

*disclaimer* with the religious analogies, I'm debating taking them out because I probably messed them up(excluding the christianity and Space Unicornist references) and feel like I might end up offending somebody. So, if I did offend anybody, I really didn't mean to, and I will remove the references.