Every Last Word

If you could read my mind, you wouldn't be smiling.

I didn’t go there looking for you. I went looking for me.” My voice is soft, low, and shaky. “But now, here you are, and somehow, in finding you, I think I’ve found myself.

Mistakes. Trial and error. Same thing. Mistakes are how we learned to walk and run and that hot things burn when you touch them. You’ve made mistakes all your life and you’re going to keep making them.

I’m going to show you something that will change your whole life.

What you see ... And on the other side: It isn't me.

You look around at the people in your life, one by one, choosing to hold on to the ones who make you stronger and better, and letting go of the ones who don't.

I have a tendency to overthink things, especially when it comes to my friends, and I don’t know…I take things too personally. I mean, it isn’t always them . Sometimes it’s me. I just don’t always know when it’s them and when it’s me, you know?

I’m merely reminding you to embrace who you are and surround yourself with people who do the same.

Shy, insecure, afraid to speak up? “Act as if,” they say. Act as if you’re not. Stand tall when you walk. Project your voice when you talk. Raise your hand in class. Act as if. Speak your mind. Cut your hair. Be the part. Look the part. You can do this. Just act as if. If you really knew me, If you could see inside, You’d find shy and insecure and afraid. Acting as if. Ironic, isn’t it? The only time I’m not Acting “as if”? When I’m on a stage.

The few lamps we left on softly illuminate the walls, and I think about all the paper around us, all this love and pain and fear and hope. We’re surrounded by words. Nothing about this moment could be more perfect, because I’m absolutely in love with this room and the people in it, on the wall and otherwise. And with this one boy in particular.

The trick is to recognize your mistakes, take what you need from them, and move on" -Sue

Sam: Do you always say exactly what you're thinking? AJ: I try to. I like to know where I stand with people, and I figure I owe them the same courtesy. I mean, I'm never rude or hurtful about it, but I don't see any reason to be fake. That's a lot of work

But now, everything is so quiet. Not just the pool, but my mind, too. I don't even feel the urge to swim to the beat of a song. I'm mentally spent. Out of words. Out of thoughts. It feels so good to be this empty. It's so peaceful.

What you see, it isn't me

The trick is to recognize your mistakes, take what you need from them, and move on.

I also think you’re overcomplicating this whole thing. I think that even when good, totally normal, completely healthy things happen in your life, like”—she starts articulating her points on her fingers—“your new car, writing poetry, spending an afternoon at AJ’s house, meeting me…” She sits up straighter wearing a big fake grin, then returns to her serious tone. “You seem determined to find a way to make them unhealthy.

Yesterday, when I took the stage for the sixth time, I read a poem about unreliable friends, people you love and feel bonded to but can never truly trust. It was about feeling alone and vulnerable, and never being able to fully let your guard down.

Feeling all the pain of letting them go. And knowing I did the right thing.

You are still here stitched into the words on these walls.

I’m here now. Letting them out. Freeing my words Building better walls.

OCD. I’m more obsessive than compulsive, so most of the ‘disorder’ part takes place in my own head. That makes it pretty easy to hide. No one knows.

After you left I stared at the driveway Feeling its emptiness Wondering if you’d return. After you left I thought about your questions Wishing I hadn’t been so blunt Wondering if I scared you away. After you left I remembered how you felt in my arms. How you fit so perfectly there. Like my guitar. Wondering if I should have kissed you when I had the chance. After you left I sat in my room Remembering all the things you said, and Wondering about all the things you didn’t. After you left I sat in silence. Missing you in a way I didn’t quite understand. Wondering if you’d ever come back.

I like to know where I stand with people, and I figure I owe them the same courtesy.

It's me, asking him to let me in. Asking all of them to give a chance to show them that, deep down, I'm not who they think I am. Or, maybe I'm exactly who they think I am, but I no longer want to be.

I have a tendency to overthink things, especially when it comes to my friends, and I don’t know…I take things too personally. I