Somedays & Secrets

You have no idea who I am.

You have no idea where I have been, where I am going, what I want to do with my life, what I want to wake up every day and see. I have been to places you cannot possibly imagine -- I have built worlds that you will never be able to comprehend.

And I'm lost. Turning around in panicked circles smaller smaller smaller until eventually I'm gone and disappeared forever. I hate you for haunting me. I hate you for giving me a taste of something divine, something heavenly, something beyond this world.

I will never find someone else like you.

But I'm glad, because while I felt something so incredible with you, someday...

Someday I will find someone who loves me back.

Someday I will find someone who isn't afraid of reaching out to take my hand in public.

Someday I will find someone who is willing to really, truly, do anything and everything to keep me with her.

Someday I will own the world.

Someday my body will tell a story more complex and deep than any novel.

Someday my art work will be examined in museums and gallery shows.

Someday my writing will be analyzed and will save someone's life.

Someday my name will be precious and painful for you to say.

Someday I will leave this place and never come back.

Someday, the somedays will kill me.

But until then, I'm holding my head up high and dealing with the consequences of killing you. I need you gone, forever and always.

YOU WILL NOT BE MY ONE AND ONLY.

...even though at one point in time, you were.

I am strong, and I am beautiful, and I am one of a kind and I hope you never see me again.

Tell me a secret?

Drugs have destroyed my life.
Drugs have saved my life.
I'm proud to be a stoner.
I'm proud to be an intellectual.
I have wristband tans.
I think I look good these days.
I haven't cut in nine months.
I'm going to go home, and smoke alone.
I haven't done any work in weeks.
I pray at least once a day.
I am addicted to smoking.
I eat too much.
I have books on my shelves that I bought with no intentions of reading whatsoever.
I'm positive my cause of death will be suicide.
Given the choice between you and drugs, I would pick you every time, even though you are so much worse than any drug I could possibly do.
I wouldn't have it any other way.
I'm terrified of ending up like my mother.
I'm leaving, and I'm never coming back.
I hate you for fucking up my world.
I regret ever bringing you to the fire.
I'm glad you got an alcohol ticket.
For all of my talk, I'm sure that I will end up forgotten and none of this will ever matter.
Quite a few of my best friends are total douchebags.
I feel like I get taken advantage of all the time, but that never stops me from wanting to share even more with you guys.
I'M NOT RICH.
I think I would be better off in a prison.
I fantasize about running away and never coming back all the time.
These aren't even my good secrets.

~Alisa