I’m worn down
By the people
I should care about
That I’ve never cared about
And missing someone
Who longs for something
They may never find
Their home
Whether it be place
Person or people
And I long for everything
Every place
Every person
I may never find
And I never want to have a home
Whether it be person
Or place
Or people
And I never
Want to make sense
And I long to be alone most times
But I can barely handle
Being lonely most days
Because once the sunsets
Or rises
Or the seasons change
My heart grows hollow
And I can’t seem to keep
A thing that fills it
Because I cannot mold it to the outline
If it does not fit
And I refuse to lessen myself
Just to complete the puzzle
If I were to need to expand
I would be happy to do so
Though it seems I have
And though it seems that’s what
Has made this more trouble
And though it seems I’ve lost
Any sense I’ve never made



Comfort In Complexity

It’s easier to let go of someone when you realize that when they look up at the sky at night
They only see stars
But you, you see the universe
You think too much and think too hard and take life too seriously; you keep aware of everything
And who’s to say there’s nothing poetic in that
But sometimes it’s the ugly truth
And it becomes difficult, doesn’t it, when you meet someone just like you
Aware of the galaxies and the planets and the stars
They think like you and have the same awareness you do and take you seriously
Nothing is too complex of a topic
And you imagine what it’d be like to lose that
What’ll scare you most are the odds of finding someone who shares the same comfort in complexity
When you think about how rare it was to find someone like them in the first place


Love Never Made Sense To Me

And I want someone
who loves me at all moments
Even if I’m being horrid
and even when I’m being lovely
To love me the same
yet in all sorts of ways
And to think of me
when he sees something beautiful
And to think of me
when he hears his favorite song
And to think of me
when he’s angry
At the most unexpected moments
I hope he misses me
And never believes me
when I say “I’m fine”
Or “I’m just tired”
because he knows I’m always tired
And to persist
when I won’t admit my issue
And to not say a word
when saying “I love you”
I don’t want it to ever make sense
but to be the only thing I understand
But I do ask of him to think of me
at sunrise
So I can think of him
at sunset



It occurred to me
From the rise of your hypocrisy
That if you’re going to judge me for not believing what the churches teach
Then you better practice what you preach
And if you consider ending our friendship because of the fact
Then you should probably take a look at how you act
Because I don’t remember Jesus telling his disciples to fuck around
Or drive other people’s self esteem and opinions to the ground
Or talk about their life involving such profanity
So let’s talk about this insanity
And believe me, I’m not uneducated
Even even if the book is a bit outdated
From what I clearly recall, there are a few things that are shunned in the bible
But when it comes to doing those things, you’ve been quite liable
And you can act superior
But no matter what I do, what matters is your interior
And if only “God can judge me”
Then who the hell are you supposed to be.

Funny how I’ve been called the hypocrite
But your name seems to be a synonym of it.


Raising A Child (The Idea)

The idea of raising a child scares the hell out of me
Because I know how unfortunate I was
And I know how much it stings to look in my parents’ eyes
And feel their skin
And how much “I love you” feels like it’s being branded onto me
Rather than gently planted, like a flower
And how much the idea of retorting it back pains me
And how much I wouldn’t mean it even if I forced the words
I know how much they don’t understand and how much they don’t know about me
Who I am
And I can only hope with all of the love that I can hardly contain that my child thinks of me as the one who brought them into this world
Rather than being the one that made them feel like they didn’t belong here
And with every fight and misunderstanding, they will never come up with the idea that I will ever hold against them the 9 months we were inseparable
To make up for the life time I could potentially screw up
And that I will never view them as the screw up, but myself as one for ruining the time we were allowed to have


We’re The Middle Children Of History

Let me explain what it is like to be the middle child from my personal experience :

You’re not the oldest, and you’re not the youngest; that fact is obvious information.
But you must look further into that.

Since you’re not the oldest, you’re disrespected by the youngest because “you can’t tell them what to do”
And, in my case,  the youngest thinks they can boss you around in return
And youre somehow more closely grouped with them, you’re “the girls”
Looked at as a unit rather than individuals
So why would you respect them as someone who practically helped raise you? I’m still somehow on your level
And not being the oldest calls for the oldest treating you like a child
Them acting as your parent
And that’s fine, but they’re more of an authority figure rather than a sibling
They took care of you, they looked out for you, you’re someone they guard, not someone you can share every detail of your personality with
And you’re also the middleman
When there’s a problem with either youngest or eldest, you’re the one to ask because you’re the median, you’re supposed to keep close ties with both, I presume
Yet your opinion is over looked or completely ignored
Because you’re more closely associated with younger than with mature
And no matter how much you know, simply by what you figured out on your own, because you somehow have an overwhelming amount of isolation
Or what you learned by experience
There’s no way you could have experienced so much greater than the oldest

And when it comes to comparison,  you’re compared with and compared to
“Why aren’t you like your older sibling?
They want to talk to me like an adult, it’s about time you do.”
But I’m not my older sibling, I’m far beyond who they are and completely opposite that there’s nothing to compare


When it comes to the youngest and being compared with, “but Megan does this or that”
The response is always, “but I’m not her!”
But when it comes to something they want it’s,  “But Megan gets to do it!”
And we’re complete opposites as well, even more so that I sometimes question if we’re actually really related

And how dare I get offended or stand up for myself, I can’t have an opinion without “she’s your older sister, you have to respect her” and “she’s your younger sister, just be there for her, she looks up to you”

But I honestly don’t give a damn who is or does what. And that isn’t taken seriously either.
My opinions and problems are a joke because I’ve always been the middle child. The “problem child” no matter how worse any of my other siblings have done.
And out of everyone of my siblings selfish fits, my breakdowns when I’ve just had enough make me the over dramatic one

The middle child.

I don’t know “fair.” I never have. All I know is that everyone is out to “get even” with you. Getting even isn’t being fair.


It’s mind blowing that three years ago I was the polar opposite of who I am today
And who’s to say I won’t be saying this another three years from now?
I never saw any of this coming
Even the idea of it used to scare the hell out of me
Or disgust me
Or excite me
And they say that “day by day, nothing changes, but when you look back, everything is different”
And it is incomprehensibly true
And it’s funny how you can’t recall when it changed
Was it gradual or was it sudden?
Either way, we casually sink into these things until they redefine who we are
How we think
How we view the world
How we view ourselves
And I don’t know who to thank, what to thank,  but damn it am I thankful for this.