Dead Day

Lies, rumors, whispers, truths, facts, assumptions, actions, wishes, wants, losses. . . trickle through my mind slowly, at first, but then racing, as quickly as speeding cars on the highway. They all infect my brain working my emotions into overdrive. I can't keep up with them. I don't stay in one state long enough to fully embrace it. My emotions, like your mind, change so quickly and though neither of us obviously have any idea what we want, we both need to slow down. I need to slow my feelings for you, lower my vulnerability and want for myself before I want you, reach for you. You were once at a complete stop and I'm not sure what happened, you picked up and took off in full speed before I could even say go. But everyone knows if you're going too fast you'll just end up crashing. My car wasn't as fast as yours and the wheels blew out before I could even catch up with you halfway. I never got to really say all I needed to say, all that should have been said, and that was my fault. Girls love fast cars, so I went along for the ride and what's sad now is that I crashed too, but not into you. Our bodies were blown from the car on opposite sides and with different thoughts on our minds. So now for the lies, "I can handle this, you." The rumors of you and your relationships with other girls. The whispers of my friends and I, and those that crossed through your lips. The truth, oh the glorious truth, I liked you, as cliche as it may be, the moment I laid eyes on you. I wanted you so much that I was willing to let go of him. The facts, I'm a girl, you're a girl, we're both very much capable of love, both very much hurt by love. Assumptions made by a foolish girl who could of let you in. Actions that will never be unmade or taken back. I've made so many wishes these past few months on starlit skies, scribbled hearts and stars and clocks with "11:11" on them, mostly all for you. The wants are always the same within each wish and along with those wants are everything I've lost or could have lost. I could tear my hair out and scream, shout at the top of my lungs for all the hurt I feel. Slit my wrists and focus on that pain for a while. Cry my eyes out til I can't cry anymore and all that's left are dry, red, sore eyes that only need sleep. But I know that afterward I'd still have to face it, so I stop myself, swallow that lump in my throat, no matter how many times it comes back, and maybe let a few silent tears escape my dark brown eyes, the clearest window to my soul. Let today be a dead day in history and hopefully wake tomorrow to a sunny day.