The Beautiful Bright Side.

Look on the fucking bright side.
At least you're not dead yet, right?
What counts as dead anymore?

What?
You're surprised that I'm not okay right now.
Just look at the fucking bright side,
At least I don't cut too deep.

I'm a dead leaf,
Falling to the ground in the middle of
Autumn.
Cut from my power source.

Yeah, look on the bright side.
I'm not dead.
But I wish I was.

And I may be mellodramtic,
But I get that way sometimes.
Sorry.

Keep talking,
About bright sides,
And sunshine.
I'm going to fight on.

We're tradgic,
Teenagers as a whole.
Doomed to live a repeat of all our parents mistakes.

What,
You're surprised that's the bright side here?

I just wanted you to understand.
I needed someone to understand.
But I guess that's not the way this works.

Little Flickering Lights.

Everyone I love leaves me in the end.And maybe it's like this for everyone.

Maybe I'm not exempt.

I lose friends, family,
Anything I put my heart into eventually leaves my side.

I was okay with this once. I thought it was my role.

I was there to lift people out of their darkness.
I was there to help people move on.

But I'm tired of being alone.I don't want to lift anymore.

I don't want you to leave.

But it doesn't matter.Because this is the part I was born to play.

I am the lantern that gets left outside.Light always flickering for the lost.

Battered, and bruised.I shall continue my watch.-XX

I'm a Mess of Emotion, and You are Detatched from Us.

What words shall I use to describe what we've done.
Broken toys from a magic little box.
I was always told to fix it.

Every single time,
"Just fix It."
 Break and fix, breaking and fixing.

This is what I've been made into.
A mess of broken springs,
And impossibly shattered dreams.

You look at everyone around me now.
I'm surrounded by small reminders that we are not Us.
You are made too break me.

And I can't fix me anymore.
I'm not your idea of friend I have learned.
You think me wrong.

Over dramatic,
Over blown.

Home.

I want to go home.
To a place where I feel safe,
To a place where I feel loved.

It's always so angry here,
This place is filled with so much pain,
There has been so much fighting.

I don't know what to do anymore.

I want to run.
To let my feet carry me past the city's,
And past the oceans,
To a place where I can hide.

Take me home.
To a place where I'll feel loved for the first time.
And where I'll be loved forever.

Take me to a place where I feel safe,
Loved,
And warm.

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.

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

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.

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.

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