Glass Box.

I am a prisoner, and this glass box is my jail cell.

Paralyzed in my own skin. A tourist at my own home.
You see, the glass which traps me is so bluntly transparent that I can see others living a life in which I so desperately beg for. And the glass is thick enough so I cannot break out, but thin enough that I can hear their laughter, their pure jubilance.
Is it wrong to pray for the gift of deviance.. Is it wrong to try and hide behind this mask of jovial deceit..
Is it wrong to wish I could delude their precious vision..?
Through these damned glass walls I appear as a Saint, but Im ready to be a Sinner. Because sometimes you've got to get your hands dirty if you want a clean slate.

I am a prisoner, and this glass box is a jail cell.

Nostalgia.

I dearly miss so many things in this world.
So many days I wish I could return to; so many events I wish I could re-create.
But it seems as if nothing really compares, nothing adds up.
I once heard that memory was man's greatest gift.
I question this theory every day of my life.
What if certain memories are meant to be forgotten?

My gift is my burden. My gift is my curse.
My gift is not really a gift at all.

I miss going to school to see my friends, not going to school to be in an eternal competition of who is better. Who is more worthy. A competition where I was branded 2nd place long before the race had even started. School has morphed into a horror story. Where the halls are like hell, trying to dodge bullets and pass by unnoticed, trying to make it out alive. Good grades are no longer awarding and fulfilling..they are asshole messengers. Good grades remind me of how I must maintain them, and I don't get a pat on the back. Why, that is just uncalled for. I get a dumbfounded stare, a questioning sigh. They think I can't hear them whisper "How did SHE of all people get a better grade than me?" Frankly, I'm sick of it. I don't work my ass to the bone just to be chastised and doubted.

I miss playing the game because it was fun. Adrenaline is the best kind of high. Your heart is beating in your throat, sweat is dripping in buckets. You go for the final dive, and even the devil himself shakes in his throne as your exhausted body hits the ground with a roar. You look up to the scoreboard, you look up to your fate.
This isn't how it works now though. Not at all. We don't play, we fight. Fight for court-time. Fight for attention. FIght for the title of "the best". Fight for college scholarships. Fight for glory.
If I wanted to fight this hard, I would've signed up for boxing.

My fingers are just barely grazing my dreams.
But Im not tall enough.
Not smart enough.
Not quick enough.
Not creative enough.
Not knowledgeable enough.
Not talented enough.
NOT ENOUGH.

I miss waking up happy.
I miss trusting everyone I knew.
I miss never getting caught.
I miss not caring what others thought.
I miss knowing who the fuck I was, and what I stood for.


I hate nostalgia.
Nostalgia hates me.

"No I won't wait forever."

Every pore in my skin. screaming.
Every hair on my body. crying.

My lips dance, my fingers shake.

I want to hate with the wrath of a million sins.
Yet I still love with the affection of a million lovers.

Silenced by the angry monsters gnawing at my gut.
There's so much to say,
Unfortunately the words escaped during the dreamy hollows of sleep.

I can't say I didn't know this would happen,
because then Liar would be breached across my forehead.
I did everything I could to stop this manifesto of intangible sickness.
But even the best of doctors can't always be saviors.

My efforts were pointless,
Your complaints were damage.

Im almost ready to knock down the house we've made,
Make a new one,
Be a new person.

But I'm too fucking sick of being the landscaper.

So here are the controls,
do with them what you wish.
Make me, break me.
I could care less at this point.

But baby,
I won't be waitin' forever.





"Perfect words never crossed my mind, because there was nothing there but you."

"Not giving up till I break down"

Try and reach for the stars,
and the ceiling teases your pathetic efforts.
Chase after your dreams,
and the gravel beneath your feet will tug at your ankles and watch you trip,
wipe the blood off your bottom lip and lift your head,
just in time to see your wildest fantasies escape from your grasp.

But with great desperation
comes great motivation
and with great motivation
hope is born.

So pick your trembling body from it's ashes,
Brush the doubt off your shoulders,
Wipe hell off your lips,
Remove uncertainty from your eyes,
Spit out the feeling of insignificance that lingers on your tongue,
And obliterate every last voice that told you, you couldn't.

Silence those who said it was impossible.
Demolish the theory of unattainability.
And annihilate every last skepticism.

Because there is no room for hesitation where greatness is achieved.