Elizabeth/Lizzie. Kansas State University. Chemical Engineering. Kappa Kappa Gamma. Recent Vegan. Liberal democrat. Loves the Obama Family. Agnostic but has a profound love for the Episcopal Church. Confused about life, and what to do with the rest of it.
I know I shouldn’t be
but I’m scared of my future
of what will come
of what I’ll lose.
I’m so afraid of not achieving anything
and letting people down
or no one staying by my side
or being stuck here forever.
Sometimes I think life is not for me
it’s full of emotions and so much to handle
so much to worry about
so much to feel.
Who knows what life is all about
I don’t know how long it will take me
to realize that life will never make sense
and I just have to try to be happy
and be a good human.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the sound I heard when I was 9 and my father slammed the front door so hard behind him I swear to god it shook the whole house. For the next 3 years I watched my mother break her teeth on vodka bottles. I think she stopped breathing when he left. I think part of her died. I think he took her heart with him when he walked out. Her chest is empty, just a shattered mess or cracked ribs and depression pills.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s all the blood in the sink. It’s the night that I spent 12 hours in the emergency room waiting to see if my sister was going to be okay, after the boy she loved, told her he didn’t love her anymore. It’s the crying, and the fluorescent lights, and white sneakers and pale faces and shaky breaths and blood. So much blood.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the time that I had to stay up for two days straight with my best friend while she cried and shrieked and threw up on my bedroom floor because her boyfriend fucked his ex. I swear to god she still has tear streaks stained onto her cheeks. I think when you love someone, it never really goes away.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the six weeks we had a substitute in English because our teacher was getting divorced and couldn’t handle getting out of bed. When she came back was smiling. But her hands shook so hard when she held her coffee, you could see that something was broken inside. And sometimes when things break, you can’t fix them. Nothing ever goes back to how it was. I got an A in English that year. I think her head was always spinning too hard to read any essays.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s that I do.