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When I Need ThemI have learned to quietly do as i'm told,
Not to argue or joke,
It seems wrong when i'm sad,
Because it's when i should be mad,
I crumble so easily,
It barely takes anything,
I reach out only to see,
Everyone walk away from me,
The ones i really want to talk to,
Seem to not care when i need to,
It hurts when they ignore me,
It's like they only like me when i'm acting silly,
I wish they would talk to me,
And even when they do i feel guilty,
I feel so guilty dumping all my problems on someone else,
I don't want anyone to worry about me,
I just want them to care,
I know how hard that is,
I know it's hard to be there.
Especially for me,
I over react,
I may everything seem like a tragedy,
I can't help but wonder how they tolerate me.
sick of meI'll go off somewhere else,
When where i am turns to hell,
I go to where my friends are and ask for help,
Turns out they don't care either.
I feel ignored by them too,
I'm so foolish to expect them to care right now,
I just got so used to it before,
But now it's like they are all sick of me.
ArtMy pencil is broken,
I ran out of paper,
My mind isn't working right,
I need to write or draw,
I need to get the ideas on paper,
Out of my head,
I can't concentrate till i do.
I write to keep sane,
I draw to stay calm,
Art is part of who i am,
I need art so i can hold on.
Don't you dare say it's pointless,
It saves lives and brings joy,
It's beautiful and wonderful and always perfect,
All art has meaning.
All art is important.
Nine TimesI saw him nine times.
The first time we were both sitting in the room together, getting ready to take the math test that would determine our placement. I was scatterbrained and throwing things around, trying to find the pencils that I had known I would need but had still just tossed in my purse. He was lounging backwards in his chair, looking for all the world as though he didn’t have a single care in the world, including the upcoming test. It annoyed me, that I was frantic and ready to scream, while someone else could be that relaxed.
I tested out of the class.
I don’t know if he did.
The second time I saw him, it was a few months after I arrived on campus. He was the one rushing and frantic this time, running across the square. He was probably late for class, though I had no way of knowing for sure. I was already lost in my own thoughts and ideas, deciding on my major and convincing people that yes, this is what I really want to do with my life. If they weren
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