These Are the Things You Do to Me

Everything is fine, I lean against these walls thinking about my life. Everything is fine. But if such things are so true then why does this pain burn deep in the depths of me? Reaching up into my throat bursting out of my mouth? I lay on this bed thinking of this world, my world, thinking of what I hold what is mine.

For once in my life I should be feeling good. But these anxieties are harsher than any man could ever describe. Eating away little by little, piece by piece. Till you are left with nothing. Till you are left feeling like you're stranded. Nothing left to your name.

I possess so much, happiness, sadness it all stands under my name. These feelings that are dealt with daily. The little cries for help I see running around in my brain, darting every which way, their path, unpredictable.

Rising like I do everyday, to a text from you. You have become so routine, it seems to run like clock work. Why? Why would you chose me, of all the people you could chose, you decide that I am the one. The one you send late night love filled hearts to. Never did I think that I would be sending them back, sending them first even, at certain times. Just to know that I will get them back, sometimes even double the amount that I so generously gave. How and where do you find so much love? Where does this happiness come from, you are a person with so many battles. You clearly have so much pain. But you chose to spend those last few drops of love on me.

Everyday I walk into the building that I call my second home. Not by choice, but just because of the plain fact that I am forced into this establishment along with every juvenile teenager in the country. There I see your face, and once again that clockwork performs its magic. Suddenly I find myself walking to you, smiling, smiling like I never have before. I look to your face and see joy. I so badly envy this joy, wishing that the anxieties that eat away at me would be replaced by this beautiful face of joy.

But the anxiety shows no mercy. At the most brutal of times it comes, eating away. Rekindles the fire that I try so hard to tame. Tells me I am not worthy of such happiness, that I am not good enough for such a perfect soul. So badly do I want you to be mine but the anxiety that sits inside is one that whispers to me to hang back.

What do those hearts mean? Are they true, a message that has its own secret words within an already prominent quota? Are they as genuine as you are kind? Or are they just little cover ups, little grains of food, feeding my addiction that is your attention. The sweet demeanor that you have leaves it hard for me to digest, I want to pick you apart. I want to read the innermost secrets that lie upon your soul. But I must wait, for a time will come. I can feel it all building up, like the plot in every story.

I want you unlike I've ever wanted anyone before, I want you because of the genuine love that you make me feel. Just thinking of you lights up my world. Although these unprecedented anxieties have seemed to come at the same time as you, I would rather live a life with you in it. Even if I have to deal with the monsters that eat at my mentality. Through it all, those little hearts that sit on my screen mean everything in my minuscule teenage world. The little moments that we have shared and the stupid inside jokes that we contain within the confusing thing some might call is the beginning of a relationship, is what runs my life.

No matter how my brain tells me I need to feel, you trump all of that. You make me happy and that is what matters. You make me smile in the darkest of occasions and I know that the coming months hold something for you and me and I cannot wait to see what's in store.