Survival

Written during sophomore year.

It’s a way of survival,

a way of surviving in you.

Because you lift me up and save me,

this phenomenal thing you can’t see.

Even when I tell you

that you are the one;

the one I listen to,

the one I turn to,

the one I so foolishly depend on.

You are the sweet fuzz,

the hypnotizing static on the TV screen,

if nothing else but to save me

from an over-dramatic, strangely obscene

attempt to teach myself some reality.

Reality in everything but me,

and some sick, twisted dream.

And when everything goes as planned,

the plan’s not so beautiful.

When tears are shed, and somehow

you’re still there for the awakening.

Way past the black stains on the wall,

way past coming home

to this world, never the same.

When acceptance only comes

when it’s too late to take it.

But with the unexpected,

somehow it’s not too late.

And blurred faces become so clear

when the world seems so much fuller.

When it spills out the hope remains,

when it spills out,

nothing matters anymore.

Confusion in that emptiness,

lost without the chaos of my thoughts,

I start the new cycle.

In honor of the broken and in hope for the future.

in hope for L.A. and in hope for Chicago.

And with that, I think it will be,

that bliss might just come for me.

And I can’t stop smiling,

singing stupid songs,

spoken words of the future

and those to spend it with.

Never have I been so sure,

so thank you.

You’ll never be forgotten.