Lying in Roses
Tags: Relationships, Heartbreak, Reality, Poetry, Mental Health

ALL CREDITS TO PHOTOGRAPHER/ARTSIT

The First Thorn

As I sit here in this dimly lit room, and hear the rain so gently , but yet so roughly tapping on the window, I am reminded of him. His smile, his laugh, his funny, but yet weird jokes. I’ve managed to get through a couple of days pretending to make it look like I am okay around him. Today I cracked every so slightly, and told him I still cared about him (through text) and I of course, as expected, did not receive a response of any sort. It hurts knowing that he may not care about me anymore. It hurts knowing……it was probably so easy for him to move on. He seems so happy, and seems like he is doing just fine without me. Don’t get me wrong I am extremely happy for him. I only want the best for him. I just wish he would think of me as “the best for him.”

I don’t know if anyone I have talked to about this, thus far, knows how it feels to give your heart to someone, and then just crushing it, leaving you in pieces. As an almost 13 year old with insomnia, and social anxiety, I have been through situations where people just drop me and leave me, because I am too much. I do wonder if this is my fault, and if I was just too much for him to handle. Seeing him smile makes me want to cry. Seeing him frown makes me want to comfort him, even though I know I can’t anymore. If I could show him a visual representation of my heart, I wonder if he would feel bad at any point. I think the worst part about this is that…..I still love him. I would still do anything for him. I still see all the good in him.

As soon as he told me we should break up, I think I broke in a way I didn’t think was possible. I didn’t think it was possible to hate, and love someone at the same time. I still get butterflies around him. I still feel like hugging him all the time. Then I remember…..I can no longer do that, and I start to tear up. I wish there was a way of reading his thoughts. I wish there was a way I could just have all my questions answered. It may not be what I want to hear, but they would, ultimately, put me at peace. Maybe I’ll try asking him tomorrow. But then again that’s what I always say. Trust me, if I could talk to him for hours, I would. I would want to know what exactly is bothering him, and what exactly caused him to make the decision to break me in the way he did. It hurts when I see his Instagram name pop up on my screen, and I instantly think of the words, “I love you, but we should break up *heartbreak emoji*.” At the beginning there would be time-frames, where I forgot he broke up with me. There have been times where I almost texted him for advice. There have been times where my mind forgot everything that just happened, and I would think about what he was going to do tomorrow morning. Whether or not I would be getting a kiss or a hug. Then the cruel reality would come in, and I would then mentally fall to the floor, and have a breakdown about him.

Rain

It was a lovely ride

The carousel went slow

I was loved for the first time

I wasn’t sure how far it would go

Not knowing how to breathe

After those few subtle words

How could I explain how badly I was hurt?

My first love

My first heartbreak

How painful it was

My tears rolled off my face

Like how the rain was falling from the sky

When we hugged for the first time

Your scent was sweet

Like chocolate strawberries

And your words made sense

For the first time

My life made been correct

I wasn’t alone

But fairytales don’t last

I wish I would’ve known

Realizations

It’s been ten months. Ten months since I wrote that. Self discovery has happened in those ten months, but self destruction has come with it. But with every falling apart there is a putting together. I’ve lost friends along with beliefs and dreams. I have gained morality, and realized that this world might be falling apart at the seams, but we will always describe it as beautiful and wholesome. Our minds are built to think the worst, but are programmed for the best. Realizations that things don’t last forever, but in my augmented reality that I call my mind and imagination they can. I have walked through hell, and managed to keep my wings and gain a found appreciation for my darker personas. I am a demon and an angel in one system. One body. One functioning set of cells and membranes all together. I have thought of things that I would’ve never imagined. You must be broken to be rebuilt into a better person and that will happen more than once. No matter the circumstance, no matter the life and privilege, being broken comes with life. I am the person I want to be. And I would like to take a moment to thank the people who broke me, and left me in ruins. Because, I surpassed who I was when I met you, thank you for making me realize that I am independent, and that I don’t need you. A moment to thank the people who left me when I was vulnerable. You made me realize that the weakest are the strongest. A moment, to thank everyone who made me cry. You made me realize I don’t need to waste my tears on anyone who doesn’t deserve it. And a moment to thank my past self. You are the most perfect person I will ever have the pleasure of encountering. You will forever be apart of my heart and my mind. You held your own hand when no one else could, and I will remember the sacrifices you made to get me here. She is deserving of happiness. She is the exact same person I am today. Me.

It’s 3:48 A.M

Is love real? I feel like that is a common question in this realm of the universe (are there different realms?) I’ve always had an understanding of the concept of love. I’ve had an understanding of a lot of things since I was very young. I’ve always had the same thoughts. Same voices in my head. Here’s the thing, they say you don’t know what love is until you experience it. WRONG! I’ve had the same mind-set on love since I was about seven. My mind has always had the thought that there is no set definition of love. And your definition will change as you get older. Like for example, people say when you’re younger you don’t know what love is and how to experience it. Well, I believe that when you fall for someone at a young age, at that place and time, you are indeed head over heels. They are experiencing the same emotions that any adult could feel. Our emotions are not programmed differently, we are not robots. So when you get older you might not think of that and have it fit your definition of love, but in those memories you were in love. It was how you felt back then, and nothing can change that. I believe that you could fall in love at any age. Well starting from the age you know how to process thoughts and emotions. So yes, young love does exist, and it is an experience that you should treasure for your whole lifetime on this earth. Fresh, new, exhilarating emotions that send you screaming on your floor (either happiness of anger, whichever one fits.) I remember my first love experience. I was twelve years old. My first heartbreak was the one I explained at the beginning of this jotting down of my thoughts.. My personal not so personal journal

Euphoria

Happiness is rare

I must say

But when it happens

I don’t dare disarray

I have everything in order

My emotions are in check

My eyes are dry

And I am not a defect

I don’t think of myself as an epidemic

Without a cure

A walking tornado

That is muttering words

Smiles and laughter

While watching the sunset

But once those cotton candy skies are gone

Is our euphoria real?

I have to Coexist

I haven’t had the heart to add anything to this document/ journal in a long time. School is just a matter of days away and I don’t know what to do. Everyone is dealing with their own “teenage crap”, me being one of them. Last time I wrote anything here, I was full of happiness and euphoria. Now. Now I feel like I relapsed on a drug and rehab is no longer an option. We learn from our trauma. We as a surviving human organism should take our trauma and dissect it. Learn what it means to have trauma and why it exists. I, however. Feel like I have done that enough times to know what I am feeling, when I am feeling it. But yet. I sit here. Not knowing what to feel, or how to feel it. Heartbreak can come in all forms. Me, knowing multiple of them. But this. This is a new discovery. Breaking up with someone because you felt they would be better off without you, and not just saying that. Covering it up with detailed things that were planned as the day finally came to a close. I wrote more than I ever had in a text. When all it took was one sentence. I blame myself for everything. At the same time. He didn’t respond to the words I so desperately, yet so carefully put together to give him peace of mind. I know this is a very cliché thing for me to put in here, but I don’t think I was fully prepared for the relationship. You’ve heard the excuse about a million times I take it. But this was something different.

I wanted him to see through it. Ask me if I was okay even though, in retrospect, I should have been asking him, even though I knew I would not get the honest response I was looking for. He may never find out the truth. But I do very much want to tell him. Even though some of the things I wrote, and some of the things that I think are very true. He will never know the full extent of what I was thinking. I wanted it that way, sort of like a payback to him. I never knew how he was feeling, and he will never know how I was feeling. Bittersweet, right? Fight fire with fire. Give him a taste of his own medicine. But. As the days continued. Every second, a new ounce of guilt was added to my body. It was as if my subconscious was yelling at me to take it back. To take it all back. They are screaming, involuntarily. And by “they" I mean my subconscious that I have split into the good and the bad, have been screaming at each other. No, I am not insane. I am wild, yet in touch with reality, imagination. It helps me sort out my emotions in a healthy way. Every time I take a moment to think. I drift into my headspace. I drift to the keepers of my emotions. Them. Constantly nagging at me about what I did wrong and what I did right. And me. The keeper of my being. Decides who I want to listen to, and when. Who I want to believe. Who is the stronger one? Who… I become.

That’s the thing about the universe. It has upon millions of ways, millions of paths your life could take. And you hold that responsibility within you. You decide. How you respond to situations that will define your being in the universe. And my response… was to run into the wildfire I started in my head. In my memories. And try to put it out. Because I knew I was the only one who could really do that. Who could really salvage everything. No one else can legitimately get in my head. And that’s why each individual tends to feel alone. No one knows what’s actually happening. How organized your mind is, or how messy. So. Yes. I feel regret and sorrow if I actually hurt him in any way. But just like he will probably never find out about this. I will actually never find out how he was feeling, or is feeling. If he is hurt. If he needs comfort. But. He said the three magical words that either break it or make it for the human race.

The three words that either scare people away or bring them closer to your heart. What’s the phrase? “Dumb kids in love”? I’d like to believe that’s what we were. And don’t you dare say teenagers don’t know what love is. Because we do. We may not know how to show it correctly, but we do know how to love. How to cherish. Because when it comes down to it. We are the only people that understand each other. We are experiencing the same things at the same time. We may have an absence of knowledge in our heads. But we are not missing anything else but that. Knowledge will grow with us. Our bodies will produce new cells every 7 years. We will survive in this god forsaken place, with or without each other. Because every human has a survival instinct. And unless that is stripped from us, and we feel helpless enough to give up everything we have done to stay alive so far. We will no longer have the will to keep going. We were in love? I don’t know how to answer that correctly. We? Maybe. Me? Yes. We find ourselves not believing in the concept of “love” when we are younger. We were never really given a set definition because it’s the hardest thing to explain. The hardest emotion to dissect and take apart. It is different for everyone. Everyone has their own fairy tale to tell. It’s just a matter of listening. It can also be the hardest thing to execute. Making someone truly fall in love with you. Now. I can say I failed at that with this one. I tried my damn hardest. But. In the end. I didn’t try hard enough.

September 2nd

I’ve heard the phrase “love is overrated” or “I’ll never love again” too much the past week. Two of my friends. Two of them have said that and meant it. Both of them are male. One of them is recovering from a heartbreak. The heartbreak was severe. Well “severe”. He is being a bit over dramatic about the whole thing, but I am trying to help him as best as I can. The other one is my best friend. I’m telling him not to get overly attached to anyone new. He’s moving to Florida next year, and I just don’t want him getting heartbroken before he leaves. I want him to enjoy his time here. But it is inevitable. He’s emotional. And I love that he is. He is so genuine it makes my heart stop. So I want the best for him. I have cried about the fact that he is moving and that he will most likely visit once every blue moon. But I have come to the realization that everything will be okay. But hearing people say these horrible things about something that should be all around enjoyed by everyone. School is on September 5th and it’s currently 10:56 P.M. on September 2nd. I’m anxious. I’m panicking. I’m pacing. I’m still in middle school. It’s gonna be my last year of middle school. 8th grade. This time next year I will know what high school I am going to. I will have experienced my first high school orientation. I will be separated. I will be fresh bait. It scares me.

Everyone I know is a bit on edge about the new school year. We get a dance at the end of the year. I wonder if I will be dancing with anyone. Or holding my own hand like I am currently doing. I’m taking you guys on a journey. Taking you through what our generation is dealing with. The truth. And right now. I’m filled with anxiety. There seems to be a lot of that in this generation. Maybe it’s our “advanced” mindsets. By “advanced”I mean that we know too much at a young age. We know what a lot of things mean when society says we shouldn’t. That creates anxiety in us. We are scared of people. And all we have is each other. The only people we can trust are each other. We talk to each other and see each other more than our biological family. And at the end of the day, we call each other family. We are a dysfunctional generation. And we will keep believing it the more everyone says it. We just want to be loved.

We.

With every breath

With every mistake

We don’t feel like we belong

We don’t feel how we should around everyone

We will only understand each other

We will cry in each others arms

We will walk ourselves through our storms

Cause we strive to be adored

We will be around each other at our worst

And brag when we are on our best

Because it is rare

That we are not overly obsessed

We experience heartbreak early on

We will forever tear up on certain songs

Teenage drama is embedded in our minds

It’s just a matter of time…

Apocalyptic

I was laying in bed last night, not able to sleep because I was mortified. Not because I heard a noise, or because I thought there was an intruder in my house. Not because my neighbors were yelling so loud I thought one of them was gonna snap. But, because the world almost ended. An asteroid almost hit earth, and every single living thing would be demolished, and be a memory or a story to whatever comes next. Everything would’ve been gone is a split second. Given, it is estimated that at this moment in time we have about 17 months to save our planet, before apocalyptic things begin to happen. Which was also a thought that I had. The show “The 100” had also crossed my mind. It is possible that the human race could survive in space, until the earth was survivable again. Or we found a new planet to inhabit. But all of that comes with complications. Would there only be a couple thousand people chosen to be sent off to space and live? That’s a very little amount of the human race that would get the chance to live. Would how relevant you are, matter? Would famous people have a guaranteed life? Because, that is a bit unfair if you ask me.

Late night thoughts always seem to get to me. When I was younger I used to imagine that my memories were stored in this city, and it was a tainted red city. All different shades of red, and to this day I do not know why (probably something to do with my anxiety or along the lines of that if I am being honest here.) But, I am having panic attacks because of the world almost ending. It’s scary to me.

Love Bound.

October 18th, 2019. I fell head over heels with this guy. Curly hair, light hazel eyes. When the sun hit them, they were like stained glass. We watched the sunset together this one time. The sky faded to this light pink and the clouds were swirling around each other. He hugged me and time stopped. He told me he adored everything about me and I believed him. It was so perfect. He was so perfect. Too perfect. He then started fading. He told me he was bored with the same routine. I tried changing. He told me he wanted something different. I changed. He was tired of my feelings. I hid them…. You know where this is going. He didn’t want me to change, he said, he wanted me to better myself. How? How can I better myself when this is as good as I can get? How do I exceed my limits? How can I be deserving of your love? Your time? How can I be worth it?

November 12th, 2019. I woke up wanting to be with him. Feeling lost in the dark without him that day… he told me was going to be out. “Have fun” I thought.. But those were just the bitter words my naive mind made out. I looked in the mirror. I saw my heart on the floor. All I wanted at that moment. In those seconds.. Was for him to show up at my doorstep and tell me everything was fine. That we were going to be fine and that this is a bump in the road, not the void of emptiness that I knew we were falling down. The void that doesn’t have a happy ending. The void that when we hit the ground, I am alone again. I sat in my bathroom and cried on the floor. I watched and felt myself break because I knew what was happening… I got too attached too quickly. It’s something I despise about myself. I find out that we have something in common and it’s like I am in love with you. By 8:00 P.M. I felt empty. Numb. Out of my mind. I felt helpless. More helpless than Eliza and Alexander. More tragic than them and their story. For once in my life, I didn’t want out, I wanted in.

November 17th, 2019. It was a Sunday. I had school the next day and I was excited to see him. We barely talked about that day, but at 7:43 P.M. I asked a question. “Are you or have you lost feelings for me…?” he responded with, “I’m sorry.” I reassured him that I was fine and he didn’t have to worry. “These things happen, we can’t control our feelings.” 13 days. It’s been 13 days. Healing is a process that I wish I could speed up. I’m tired.

Leaps in Time.

My memory is known to be a good one. I can remember dates, and even certain times. Like my friend’s birthday. June 13th, 2006, 8:15 A.M. I remember things fairly easily. The same thing doesn’t apply for when I was younger. I have maybe 15–20 memories from the ages of three to nine. I don’t remember anything else. It might be because something happened that traumatized me so bad that I didn’t want to remember it and it’s in the depths of my memories. Today, it’s like I had a flashback from something, and it just all added up. My grandmother always used to tell us to make sure the stove was off. She would drill it into our heads. I found out why when I was twelve years old. She told me that when I was seven, and my sister was twelve, she had left us alone in the house to go get something down at the corner store. She said she had left the stove on, and when she got back, there was smoke coming out the windows and she could hear my sister screaming for help. She asked me if I remembered.. I said no. Today, I was staring at a fire, and a memory came rushing back to me. I was standing at the window in my room, looking outside. When I turned around, there were people in hazmat suits rushing into my house through the front door. I don’t remember feeling scared, but just numb. No one was with me, and the house was foggy. I remember the smell of burning, and smoke. It was sunny out that day, and it was a Saturday.

The next thing I remember is being lifted up by someone and being escorted to the hospital. That’s it. That’s all. I don’t remember anything past that. I don’t remember anything before. That’s how it is for most of my memories. The only thing I really remember clearly is the sounds of my parents constant arguing and me having to stay awake listening to them argue about stuff. I remember my dad going out for a drink, and my mom having an anxiety attack at 1 A.M. because we didn’t know where he was, and when he got home, he would be mad that I had been crying. I remember falling on my steps and hitting my lip, and being taken upstairs and hydrogen peroxide being poured on my open wounds and screaming. I remember those clearly. But nothing else. Nothing else clicks. Of course, a few things that are important to me click. Like meeting my best friend when I was three. Meeting someone who taught me what love was when I was seven. My first kiss. My first time crying in front of my friends (I was in first grade and I was in the bathroom). My mind seems to have bleeped out a bunch of stuff. I wish I remembered.. I wish I knew who I was back then. I wonder if she would be proud of me. I hope she is..