60 seconds

I set my alarm to 6:36 because 6:35 was a little too early.
Because 6:36 ends with an even and 6:35 is just a little too odd.

Because we all need that extra minute.
Those extra 60 seconds to save a life
those extra 60 seconds to remind you to keep yours.

We all breathe in the same clean air and with each exhale we release the same dirty sorrows.
The same dirty regrets.
The dirty regrets that 60 seconds can't change, but we wish they could.

For some reason we keep breathing.

Breathing in and breathing out.

And with each exhale we add to the pollution.
But isn't it beautiful that with each exhale we remove the fog that once obstructed our lungs.
The fog that blinds our hearts and blinds our minds.

So keep breathing.
Because your heart keeps beating.
And it will continue to beat approximately 60-100 times a minute.

That's 100,000 times a day
42 million a year
and more than 2.5 billion times in a lifetime.

And this all started with 60 seconds.

But that one minute turns into an hour
and the hours turn into days
and those days turn into months
which soon turn into years.

And pretty soon you have a lifetime behind you.
And even when the days get hard and the 60 seconds seem to be taking too long
remember that your heart keeps beating.

And you are worth more than 2.5 billion heartbeats.

Because you are alive.

And don't you dare stop breathing.

thunderstorms

You live through the wind as you drift through my hair and tingle my spine.
The wind that brushes across my skin and leaves me breathless.
The wind that messes up my hair and leaves me restless.

You are rain.
And I swear you can take my pain away.
The smell of rain fills my lungs and I breathe you in. Never quite letting you leave.
And I can hear you. As you softly hit my windowsill I let you sing me to sleep.
You are the rain. And you are soft against my skin.
You are warm.
Each droplet lingering. And I can feel you.
Each touch everlasting and I remember.
I remember you.

And I remember that I am living.
but you forgot that you were too.

The wind doesn't feel the same now and the rain is getting colder.
The wind and rain once familiar, but I don't recognize it's touch anymore.
You forgot what you were living for and the gentle rain turned into a hurricane.

You are thunder and lightning

..but you've always been scared of thunderstorms.

I don't drink coke.

There are things I wish I could change. Things I wish I could do differently.

If I were different I wouldn't be so short, and my eyes would be blue.

If I were different I would be a little more considerate and a little less loud.

If I were different I would think before I spoke and wouldn't drink as much coke. 

And if I were different I would never tell a lie, and I would have to be honest and tell you that I don't actually drink coke and that I actually just needed something that rhymed with the word spoke. If I were different I would laugh a little more and cry a lot less.  If I were different I would look to be happy instead of looking to be sad. And I wish I could look at a cup half full instead of seeing it as half empty. I would be nicer to my mom and tell her that I love her. I wouldn't be scared to go sit next to the girl sitting alone. 

I wouldn't be scared to be alone. 

If I were different I wouldn't care what others thought of me and I would do things for myself instead of doing it for someone else. 

I would be happy because I want to be happy and not because someone else told me to be. 

If I were different I wouldn't be looking for all the things I wish were different. I would be happy with me and happy with all of me. Not just the good but the bad, not just the perfections but the flaws and the insecurities, the weaknesses and the strengths.

If I were different I wouldn't be hiding behind a pen name.
If I were different I would be proud of who I was and how I've gotten here.
I wouldn't be Zoe
I would be me.

I would know that I am flawed, and that's okay.

running.

My minds been running all night for the past seven nights
but somehow still stuck in the same place,
on the same thought, on the same face.

 My mind running in circles. And I can feel the desperation with each heartbeat, pumping through my tangled veins as they cling onto the only thing I have left of you.

My tangled veins rooted to the ground of never letting go and never moving on.

 But you keep running, and you're getting further and further away.
And I can't keep up anymore.

I'm getting tired now. The desperation is starting to wear off now. And my twisted veins are starting to lose their grip now.

I keep praying that you'll stop to catch your breath
 because you've seemed to have stolen mine.

 My head still hurts and my heart still aches.

My heart still aches.

Aching for something I can no longer provide..

Something you are no longer willing to give me.

Aching for the truth.

Aching to be loved.

Aching to be found.

Because I can't run anymore..

 I can't run anymore.

you forgot.

You told me you would never forget me.

And I think I died inside that day.
Because those words were worse than a thousand goodbyes.

Because the things you remember are the things that can be forgotten.
And the things you never forget are the things you only remember.
And the things you remember are the things you no longer really know anymore.

And just like that I was put into the back of your memories.
A memory you would soon replace with a new name and a different face.

Its 12 am and I still can't seem to forget you.

Youre not here anymore and I thought that would help.

But I still see you.

And every song on the radio seems to be written about you,

about us..

but mostly you.

Because there never really was an us, I just liked the way us sounded.

You're in my late night thoughts,
and morning and afternoon.

And I miss you.
I miss you.

And I miss me..
because I've lost myself trying to find you.

I lost myself by losing you.

You promised you would never forget me..


















but you did.

They always do.

its okay to be a little sore.

My hat is old and tattered from all the days spent trying.

Your hat is new and pretty from all the days spent thriving.  

You let me try yours on once 

but then you noticed I was happier wearing your hat 

and so you took it back.

You took away the only happiness I had ever known

the only happiness I had ever wanted.

So I stood there alone while reality came rushing back.

Insecurity running cold through my veins all linked back to my beat up old blue baseball cap.

I've been hiding behind this hat for so long

..for too long.

The hat ripping at the seams.

Beat up, worn out and torn.

The hat is less of a hat now.

Now only patches and holes.

And I am tired.

Tired of wearing this hat.
Sick of letting the rips in my hat become rips into my soul.
Sick of remembering what I once had and what I have now
and how they aren't the same.

But one day you came back.

And I was standing in the same place.

With failure beating in my chest and the same insecurity running through my veins. 

 You came back, this time with your same hat now worn out with holes.

I asked him why he would ever let his once beautiful hat become so out of control.

You told me that life is meant to be lived. 

And that its okay if we come out a little worn out and torn.

He said that the holes can be patched and the tears can be sown.

He said we aren't meant to live life without coming back out a little sore.

And so I put back on my torn up old blue baseball cap 

and left.

Only this time with excitement flowing warm through my veins
and confidence beating softly in my chest.

Because he said Its okay to be a little worn out and sore.

And I wanted to believe him. 

we are going to be okay.

I'm scared of being seen as vulnerable.
Scared of being seen as weak.

But I'm not strong.
..I cant be strong anymore

My tongue strangled around my helpless words.

I'm sick of feeling empty.

Sick of walking crowded hallways but feeling as if I'm the only one there.
How is it possible to still feel lonely when I'm walking along with thousands of others?

My mind is screaming but my tongue says nothing.
My mouth motionless.

Quiet.

I am not depressed. Just lonely.

I am not sad, just hurting.

I am happy..
at least that's what I keep telling myself.

I am confused but at the same time I know exactly what I am feeling
..and it hurts.

High school hurts.

Boys hurt.

Girls hurt.

3 am sleepless nights hurt.

Living hurts.

They say to leave a mark on the world,
and I've left mine.

I've left mine with each tear stain permanently etched into the fabric of my pillow.

With each heart aching, blood curdling, tear jerking scream into the coldness of the atmosphere.

I left my mark on the nights spent on the bathroom floor.

And the nights spent praying for something more.

My marks been left on the scars on my heart and the scars on my soul.

But I keep walking, and I keep trying.
And with each step I leave something more.
And as I stumble and as I fall my marks been made through the blood on the walls.

Crying has left me empty and cold.
My heart swollen, stomach twisted.

And I feel nothing.

Its dark.
And I am alone.

And as I stare out into the darkness
I lose myself in the confusion of my thoughts.

And I remember that its okay.

High School is going to be okay.

Life is going to be okay.

And I and you and me and us are going to be okay.

And I will be happy.
I am going to be happy.

And you are going to be happy.