growing up
 my mother used to tell me
 during her more lucid moments
 of motherhood
 that people who lie often 
 lie enough that they believe themselves
 and I used to think that wasn’t true
 like 
 how could that be possible
 when surely
 we all live in the same reality?
 but the older I get
 the more I realize
 she was right
 and maybe in that strange way
 she knew herself
 the way we all eventually understand ourselves  

 none of us really grow up
  
 for most of us
 our spirits break
 we are the ones who grow bitter
  
 for some of us
 our spirits stay intact 
 we are the young at heart
  
 and even less of us
 were born broken
 we are the old souls
  
 but we are all the same
 for to dirt we will return
 at the end of time 

 there’s the core
 and then there’s everything else
 a lot of pointless details and fluff
 that lead to nowhere
 and everywhere I am lost
  
 you bring me out of myself
 each and every moment that I’m with you
 and even when I’m not
 I’m starting to understand  
 you’re truly my better half
 but it feels like I’ve always known that
 on some level
 deep down
 buried beneath the unimportant fluff
  
 you’re always enough
 even when I’m drowning and my voice is cut off
 you see me
 and even when you don’t understand what you see
 not because you don’t want to
 but because you cannot
 you still love me
  
 you say you fall in love with me more
 each and every day
 and I believe you
 because I know the feeling
 but sometimes I feel sad thinking
 there was ever a day I could have loved you less
 because no one can love what one does not know
  
 but then I remember
 you’re my better half
 and somehow
 in a way that words cannot explain
 you were always there
  
 you’ve always made up the parts of me I love
 and now that we are one
 you are every part of me 

 what a joke to be a rational being
 who was born with a sick brain 
 there is no reason or meaning
 it’s just painful
  
 life hurts
 but it doesn’t have to
 that’s what you told me
 but you still hurt
  
 it can get better
 but it’s never really gone
 and that’s a truth you’re saving for later
 isn’t it? 

 when I start writing
 and the waves roll in
 I have a lifeline to who I was
 to figure out who I am 

 don’t you need 
 to be warm-blooded
 in the first place
 for your blood
 to run cold?  

 it’s easier
 to hate others
 when you see yourself in them 

 it’ weird 
 trying to explain
 how I can feel happy and depressed 
 all at once
 it’s like
 my feelings never learned to take turns
 I don’t feel one thing and then another
 there’s forever this cloud 
 of depression and anxiety 
 on top of everything
 covering how I’m meant to feel
 how I want to feel
 and that’s difficult to explain
  
 when you look me in the eyes and ask
 do I make you happy?
 the answer is yes
 always
 I’m just depressed  

 remember that time we drove down the hill
 you behind the wheel 
 and me in your passenger’s seat?
  
 take the wheel
 steer
 and you closed your eyes
 while my sweaty palms took over
 both our lives in my hands
  
 in that moment
 I couldn’t have cared less if I lived or died
 neither could you
 probably 
 but I cared for you
 and I was strangely happy making sure you lived 
  
 we don’t talk anymore
 and I suppose that’s my fault
 I pop pills now
 just like you
 but that’s no excuse
  
 I hope you never call
 some puzzles are just too hard to solve
 there are too many pieces scattered and lost