Let me explain something to you.

I'll tell you about how my bed fears my name, and how I fear it, too

There are too many thoughts

Too many memories

"Not enough pain," society tells you.

I'll tell you a joke about a girl.

One who couldn't stand the cracked screen on her phone,

Because the reflection showed her broken face.

A girl who spent more hours with her head in a book than in reality.

And she sat in the guidance office,

Afraid of the hallway windows.

She couldn't take one more cuious glance. 

And this may sound cliche, but she was drowning,

In a swimming pool of her own tears.

And choking,

On the venom of her own god-awful thoughts that wouldn't leave her alone.

She tried to change the world,

But the world tried to change her, too.

Let me explain something to you. 

I'll tell you about a boy whose room is buried in glass bottles.

His walls caved in.

They left him in a graveyard of

Broken hearts and disintegrating skeletons.

He hid in the closet with them.

I'll tell you a joke about his life,

Because the kids would laugh,

When he stuttered.

And I know this sounds cliche,

But it happened everytime he saw

Her.

She took his breath away.

And eventually,

His life, too.

Let me explain something to you.

I'll tell you about this world,

And the people in it.

So many people and-

I'll tell you a story about life as I know it,

And how the hole in my soul is now deeper

Than the Pacific.

I'll tell you a joke about this world.

A joke about this world.

A joke.

Enough said.

And I know this sounds cliche,

But this story can't be told

Any other way.

I'm drowning.

And I can't say it any other way because

The water

Is already in my lungs and I

Can't

Breathe.

Can't 

Speak.

Can't

Cry.

Can't 

Scream.

I'm suffocating.

And I'm wondering:

How can something that is already dead inside, be dying?

Help.

Let me explain something to you.

I will write to you,

So many stories and

I'm sorry.

It's just the way I am.

And I'll keep apologizing,

Because I didn't have a choice when it came to

My creation.

And the way my mind,

Fails to satisfy you with my

Drunken thoughts.

And I'm sorry.

For these stories.

These sad stories.

These poems,

These words.

My words.

They may not rhyme,

But they pass the time.

And I'm stuck wondering:

Why do these stupid words hurt me more than they should?

Too many thoughts.

Too many memories.

"Not enough pain."

And I'm stuck wondering:

Why did you leave?

But I know the answer to that question.

It's written in my expression.

It's written in my face.

It's written on our empty apartment walls in

Blood

and 

Tears.

And I'm still stuck wondering,

Why you showed up late to my funeral.

Or why you came at all.

Let me explain.

I should have expected it.

I'll cry out for help,

I'll choke on my words,

And yes, I'll use cliches.

But since when has

"Help"

Become a word,

So overused,

In this world we live in today.

I can't stress this enough,

For you need to understand.

Please,

I'm begging you to.

For if you don't understand,

Let me explain something here.

For maybe,

The real problem

is

you.