Want.

I want cherry Twizzlers.
That's it.
No profound thoughts,
No deeper meaning.
Not even the whisper of poetic justice.

But wait.

Eyes Heavy and the Mysterious Lost Two Hours.

Im tired. I can't sleep.
Im talking with my friends,
I have friends?
Maybe not the ones I want.
Im watching movies,
Breaking rules.
Waiting for the sun to rise.
One, two, three episodes and half a movie later.

It's three AM.
I made a radio station,
Updated tumblr,
Made a new email,
Updated facebook.

But im still no closer to finding you.

We'll stop meeting like this eventually.

What do I look like to you?

I am a fool, and I run a fools loop.

Why is it like there is a pair of hand over my eyes.

Obstructing all the little lights from view.

Im growing more blind by the second.

But somehow you reach through.

I don't know how else to say it.

So I wont try.

But when those hands are over my eyes.

It's your voice that guides me home.

Its a Rant. Run now.

Sometimes i just want to get away from everything. Just run away. The only problem is I don't know where to go anymore. Thing have just hit me like a bullet train and stopped me. Ive relapsed three times in the last month. My wrists look like a cutting board. I just, at this point in time I would swallow a bottle of pills if it meant i could get away from the constant sadness.
It's so ridiculous. And the worst part is I can't just wish it away anymore. The thoughts don't leave. They linger in my head for hours. Whispers of how im the fuck up. Im the issue. Im the cancer that needs to be cut out of the host.
When did that become my life? When did I start thinking the world was ending? Is it?
I just wish I could be around people who gave good vibes. Instead of feeling completely hated. Im a stranger to my mother.
And god knows she doesn't have a clue that my wrists go red, or that i wish it was all over.
I told my grandpa yesterday evening, Or the day before that. Its hard to recall.
I told him that ive been self harming, and that I don't feel safe with myself anymore.
I don't know what to do anymore.
Who the fuck am I supposed to go to?
Who the fuck is going to save me?
I went straight down the vein this last time, hard.
I didn't cut anything to deep, but I thought about it.
Then I threw on a long sleeve and tried to convince them to send me back to therapy.
Gramps was really calm about it.
I think he's worried now.
I wonder what mom would think if she came home and found me in the bathroom.
Im scared.
And I don't know what to do.

Envy.

I want friends like you and yours.

Who miss me.
And worry about my wrists.
Just like they worry about each other.

I want people to constantly worry about me like I do them.
And worry about losing me.
And miss me like crazy.

But I guess that's just how it is for me.
I guess that's just how it works.

So I'll but you in a jar,
And watch as you all blossom.
And leave scars in my wake.

Hoping that someone remembers me.

Heat.

There is a heat that burns you in the summer.
Stemming from a million different things, 
Never being resolved.

You want to go out,
Adventuring, Exploring, Figuring shit out.
But you can't make it out the door without someone shouting

It's too hot to deal with this right now.
The withering feeling in the pit of your stomach.
You're doing nothing with your life.

Forty bucks.
Hundreds of places.
But not permission.

It's the kind of heat that engulfs you.
And burns from the inside out.
And brings tears to your eyes.

The kind of heat that only summer could bring.

Things I Want, And What I Get.

One big ass laptop with a pretty color to match.
Less fire ants.
A little bit of magic.
And maybe an exciting lake adventure.

A sweet kiss.
And an adventure.

Come let me dip dye your hair.
Lets make flower crowns.
We'll make beautiful memories this summer.

But what I get is screaming.
Lies.
And a few more red lines.
-H.L.B

Choices.

I did not wake up today choosing to miss you.

I did not want to recall the cut of your jaw,

Or the way you laughed at my jokes.

I did not want to miss you.

I never wanted you to leave me.

You promised me you wouldn't go.

You made me fall in love with you.

Your smile, your heart.

Even the sound of your voice made my knees week.

I new, deep down that it wasn't meant to be,

But you made me feel beautiful,

And smart,

And loved.

I did not wake up today choosing to miss you.

But I will fall asleep tonight choosing to let you into my thoughts.

Allowing you to invade my mind,

And make it your home.

Night.

It's late and the air is cold. My heart constricts looking at you, you're so sad. I know what you need, but you won't let me in. Your hair curls around your face, gently framing your teary eyes. My poor darling. You fix the whole world, but always forget about yourself. I smile, you're so selfless, giving yourself to everyone. Holding hands and chasing away nightmares. My little super hero. Tears are flowing freely now, and you're screaming out for me. It always ends like this. My baby girl in tears with no one to hold her.

You're so scared darling, my baby is so scared, and I can't do anything to help you. You muffle your groans into your hand, agony rolling off your form. I want to reach out and hold you, take you up in my arms and wrap you up. Just like every papa is supposed to when their baby cries.

"Daddy!" You shout, "daddy fix this please!"

I'm crying to baby girl, watching you hurt yourself isn't what I want child. I know you're scared, oh how I know. But I know you can make it, baby girl I know how strong you are. You have to be strong to fight like you do.

Call out to your friends, stop lying to them. Tell them the truth.

Let them know you're scared.

Scared of losing them,

And scared of what you might do.

Shhh, baby girl, please.

Hunter ,darling, please stop hurting yourself.

I'm holding on to you so tight, I just hope I can make it through.

When your time comes, I'll be waiting for you.

I love you so much kiddo, 

Dad.

To The End.

The end of my first year in high school.
Wow. To think i've come so far.
Homeschooled until sixth grade.
One year of public school that was detrimental to my mental health.
Two years religious private school that tried to white wash my morals (Hint: It didn't work)
And my freshmen year at International Polytechnic High School (thats Ipoly for short)

I was ready coming into this year, I had a no nonsense attitude, and an aptitude for learning.
But that only lasted about a week (maybe two)
Because then I met Brooke Cooper, who would become my first and truest friend this year.
I had to change my out look from being grade driven to live a life based on creation. I had to change my mindset to be proud of what I was creating.
And damn am I proud.

My first project was the mission statement. Mine was all about bravery and being true to myself. But as all things change so did my mission. It became less about being the "Brave Little Freshmen" and more about taking chances to make memories.
Which is how I ended up in a rainbow tutu. Odd progression of events, I know, but still one of my fondest memories.

Later was the first group project, the math song. My first real encounter with a junior (Hi carlos) and my first time singing since sixth grade. I was surprised to learn that they thought I was good. A lot of they(s) thought I was good. So we covered "Little Talks" and made it about Binary Code. Recording was stressful, but it all payed off when my lyrics got nominated for best written at night on the red carpet.

What else? well, there was those talking chips in strands class. Laughing at lunch up at vista, or Up, or Up Up. There was my first day in elective (Hi Mrs.Edwards) and my first seniors (Tessa, Angel, Jacob, Dean, Chris) My first harkness (The First harkness that year mind you.) My first dance. My first meltdown. My first absence (I was throwing up :c) There was my first time talking with people who scared me. Meeting Aiezecck the sophomore and eating with his friends. Oh, and meeting Donovan, who turned out to be my cousin from my uncle Hunter, who is my dad's brother, who I didn't know existed until about a year ago (Small world I know.)

So many things happened and that was just first semester.
Second semester was so much fun.
I got a new House (Eco Tech)
And a new job (Lady Director at your disposal)
And so many new and amazing memories.
My First fullerton festival.
And my first major disappointment.
Issues and problems galore.
My first discovery that I may not be straight (Hint: Im not c:)
And so much more.
But, throughout all of these problems, challenges, amazing times, and memories, my friends have stuck by me and taught me so much.
I had to say goodbye to my seniors.
And some of my friends who wont be returning.
But through all of that, i've had you.
Weither you read my old blog, or you stumbled upon this one by chance, you(the reader) have been through it all with me.
I've made poems and stories, rants and retellings. But you've stuck by me.
Thank you for that.
I hope you'll join me for an amazing summer,
And more importantly my sophomore year at Ipoly.
As my friend once said.
"You'll be okay, you'll make it."
-Hunter Leeann Baugus (the freshmen.)

Its a rant. You may not want to read this.

You're fucking tired?
Getting drained?
Exhausted?
TRY AND DEAL WITH THE WEIGHT OF THE FUCKING UNIVERSE ON YOUR SHOULDER.
(the rest will be capslocked, i will delete this. maybe)
MY MOTHER HAS GIVEN ME NO SYMPATHY.
I DEAL WITH EVERYONES PROBLEMS.
I FIGHT DEMONS.
FIX RELATIONSHIPS.
SEND PEOPLE REMINDERS NOT TO KILL THEMSELVES.
WHEN ALL I NEEDED WAS A FUCKING REMINDER OF MY OWN.
I HAVE DONE THIS FOR NEARLY 16 YEARS.
DAY IN AND DAY OUT.
PEOPLE USE ME
AND LIE
AND THEY SAY THEY'LL BE THERE.
BUT THEY NEVER STAY.
DAD DIDNT
MOM DIDNT
YOU DIDNT
AND NEITHER DID SHE.
I HAVE FACE THE WORLD ON MY OWN.
SEEN THE WHITE WALLS AND BENT FACES
TRIED TO TEAR MINE AWAY FOR FEAR IT WAS A MASK.
AND YOU'RE FUCKING TIRED?
fine.
i guess i accept that.
you can be fucking tired.
and ask me for my silence.
ask and you shall receive.
i just wanted a reminder.
because she took mine.
but you weren't there.
and the knife was.
and the pain made all the difference.
I can see, clearly now.
my fog lifted.
cut away.
you left.
just like they all do.
and maybe thats my fault.
maybe im the one whose wrong.
but i cant afford to believe that.
not with the mother who almost gave me up.
and the grandmother who doesnt want me.
and the daddy up in heaven.
yeah.
maybe i was right all those years ago.
maybe if i disappear.
the world can be happy.

Getting Pretty Good at Being Pretty Bad.

Im the worst.
I fuck shit up.
Even now im making things up as I go along.

One foot, two foot, one foot, two foot.

Just once i'd like to get something right.
Like a first impression.
Or an apology.

For just a second i'd like to feel like im doing alright.
Even though I know im not.
I can feel the heat burn my skin.

Hot and sizzling,
My flesh burns of the bone.
And my mind spirals into a madness that can't be tamed.

I fuck shit up.

One foot, two foot, one foot, two foot,onefoot,twofoot,onefoottwofoot onefoot onefoot.
Shit.

Can I just say...

Hello to all the Russian people reading this.
That's where most of the traffic is coming from.
Which is cool.
I like Russia.

So from me to you.

Я люблю тебя

(Please don't kill me, I used google translate. And if anyone responds in Russian, I will use it again.)

Scar

A silver half moon cuts through me,Pale as paper,Im white as a ghost.

I lost all control that night,Silver sliver in hand,It felt so right.But stung right after.

I am my own destruction.Decomposing right before my very eye,All the clever lies I made to cover up the truth.

I wish you thought me good enough.That I was worth of being your friend.You're the best kind of toxic.The subtle kind.

The kind that kisses you gently,And makes you tea,While stomping on your sanity.

I wish I wasn't brokenBecause im in the island of misfit toys,And even  they don't like me.

Maybe I can carve away my imperfections.
Burn them with petty starlight.All the while creating a new scar.-H.B