A maze.

That's all my life is.
A maze of meloncholy feelings.
and terrible obstacles.
Once the sun starts to shine,
a tragic storm hits.
In a normal maze, you stuggle through the obstacles to reach the trophy waiting ahead.
But there is something different about my maze.
My maze never ends.
There is no trophy waiting at the end.
Forever trapped with tragic storms and terrible obstacles.
As soon as I think I found a way out,
As soon as I get my hopes up,
and think I've beaten it.
It shows that it has control.
The only way out, is to call game over.

I love you.

Because you turn red when someone puts you on the spot.
Because you have a billion different laughs.
Because you're obsessed with horror movies.
Because you're a push-over to everyone, except me.
Because you fight me on absolutly everything.
Because you anger me more than anyone else can.
Because your smile brightens up my day.
Because you have the weirdest humor in the world.
Because you laugh when you're nervous.
Because you can dance like a mofo, but are too shy to.
Because you know what I say before I say it.
Because you had an obsession with sandwiches.
Because you stay up until 6 am playing sims during summer.
Because your face brightens up whenever you see a baby.
Because you act yourself around me.
Because you only lower your gaurd for a few seconds a day, but when you do, it's the most amazing thing.
Because we have a strange language.
Because you know absolutly everything about me.
Because you yell at me for having shitty taste in music, but end up loving all of it.
Because you're you. The only perfect thing in this broken world.
I could write this list forever.

I still see it as if it just happened.

Laying on your floor.
Listening.
To everything.
The sound of your heart under my head.
The sound of cheesy Secondhand Serenade songs.
The sound of your family, laughing and joking just outside the door.
The sound of you kissing my forhead.
It didn't matter what was happening at home or with school.
Just laying with you made everything ok again.
The world was beautiful and calm.
It seems like it just happened.
Like I can still run to your house and lay with you everynight.
Like I can still hug you and feel ok.
Like I can still go with you to Disneyland and watch the fireworks.
Like I can communicate with you, just by a glance, you knew what I was going to say.
And I knew what you were thinking, just by an expression.
Everynight I expect to get a call.
A call that just says "I'm going to bed, babe, I love you. Sweetdreams."
That call was what let me know, I could go to sleep and have sweetdreams.
about you.
and wake up, with a smile on my face, to a text that said "goodmorning my love, how'd you sleep?"
Like there was nothing I could fear in the world.
But now, all I feel is empty.
The world is full of hate, and no one cares.
Now, I fall asleep terrorfied.
Scared of having those sweetdreams about you,
because when I'd wake up,
I'd wake up to a nightmare.
Those dreams are my reality.
Because everything is ok in those dreams. You're with me. Like the world planned.
In this nightmare I call life, You're not with me.
You can't be with me.
Because of your mom.
Because of society.
Because of friends.
I can't text you, because I'm blocked.
I can't call you, because I'm blocked.
I can't message you on facebook, because I'm blocked.
And the worst part is, You don't want me blocked.
I have no control.
and it makes me affraid to be alone with myself.

He acts like it's nothing.

Everytime he yells,
Everytime he punches a wall,
Everytime he loses control,
and aims for me,
Everytime he calls me a dissapointment,
Everytime he calls me names,
I'm suppose to be ok with it.
I'm suppose to be molded into his perfect child.
but I'll never fit.
I'll never belong in this family.
Everyday it becomes clearer and clearer.
I never fit.
I see 'normal' families that fight, but at the end of the day, sit at the dinner table and talk about their days.
Or just laugh together.
I've never had that. I've always been the type of person that goes straight to my room.
Sit in there for hours. Block out the world.
I've always dreaded hearing a knock on my door.
That knock means I have to pull myself together enough to be yelled at, or pushed around.
to be called fag, or bitch.
It always ends the same.
Me slamming my door.
Him breaking it down and grabbing me.
All I think about is how powerless I feel.
How strong he is compared to me.
How I can't fight back.
It's part of my daily routiene.