EQAO

i'm just a grown-up, burnt-out, would-be gifted kid,
and maybe you'll do better than i did.

it's a horrid thing to swallow,
it's a bitter fucking pill,
it's an awful realization -
i am reeling from it still.
see, they may say you've got potential,
but you have to have the will
because potential doesn't pay
the fucking bills.

no, potential doesn't pay the fucking bills.

if depression were a song

the sun is up, the sky is bright,
i've watched the day blind out the night -
and still i lay hidden out of sight;
the sun is up, the sky is bright.

i'm sorry you can't see it,
'cause it's all inside my head -
it's a beautiful morning
and i can't get out of bed.

the day begins in blazing dawn,
but i will keep my curtains drawn.
i fade away - the world turns on.
the day begins in blazing dawn.

i'm sorry you can't see it,
'cause it's all inside my head -
it's a beautiful morning
and i can't get out of bed.

it's not like i can't see the light,
but shadow seems to stick.
i've tried my best to be alright,
but baby, i am sick.

the morning comes; i knew it would.
and i don't cry, although i could.
i tell myself that life is good.
the morning comes; i knew it would.

i'm sorry you can't see it,
'cause it's all inside my head -
it's a beautiful morning
and i can't get out of bed.

growing pains

i've got issues, i've got chapters, i've got seasons,
i've got all these stupid problems and zero stupid reasons.
if you ask me why it hurts, i'll tell you i don't know
but it hurts until it doesn't; it hurts until we grow.

i don't know how to have described it but a suicide
i don't know how i would have sung it but i wish i died
i don't know how to pass along this heavy thing i hold
i don't know how to bleed except how i am told

i feel as though i could have passed,
indeed, i feel i ought
to fight for ignorance, but all i seem to have to fought
is for this piece of peace that my sub-conscience seems to me to gave bought -

1,
2,
3,
i thought that numbers could have changed the lot.

an old draft

ashes to ashes,
dust to dust.
pull out your lashes,
cry if you must.

eat 'til you're sick,
or don't eat at all.
sleep through the thick
of the summer, the fall.

let your heavy heart sink like a stone.
let the sea rock you slowly to sleep.
let your broken parts remind you that you're all alone
and there's no need to hide when you weep.

stare in the mirror,
break through the skin.
is it just fear, or
hope still within?

float like a feather,
sink like a boat
lost in bad weather
with salt in your throat.

let your heavy heart sink like a stone.
let the sea rock you slowly to sleep.
let your broken parts remind you that you're all alone
and there's no need to hide when you weep.

an old draft

ashes to ashes,
dust to dust.
pull out your lashes,
cry if you must.

eat 'til you're sick,
or don't eat at all.
sleep through the thick
of the summer, the fall.

let your heavy heart sink like a stone.
let the sea rock you slowly to sleep.
let your broken parts remind you that you're all alone
and there's no need to hide when you weep.

stare in the mirror,
break through the skin.
is it just fear, or
hope still within?

float like a feather,
sink like a boat
lost in bad weather
with salt in your throat.

let your heavy heart sink like a stone.
let the sea rock you slowly to sleep.
let your broken parts remind you that you're all alone
and there's no need to hide when you weep.

unborn

i never asked for my people to mourn.

never asked for my actions to suffer their scorn;

never asked for their piece when my burden was shorn.

never asked for their time, never asked to be born.

love being wanted but hate being had;
learning to trust after hurting so bad.
banking on flight 'cause the fight drove us mad -
love being wanted but hate being had.

greener pastures

this is where i live.
this is what i got. this part. right here.
everyone's yards are just a part of the same field before the houses are built,
but now i guess i have grass to cut.
there used to be a lot more space here.
it was open, you know. spacious? airy.
what really drew me in was the view,
but that was years ago, before all
this.
that view used to seem endless from the roof of my house.
well, one of my houses.
not that i have more than one, no, but -
i have had more than one...
i just keep tearing them down.
see, when i first got here,
nobody had built anything yet.
and that was fine. we were young.
but then when we started i just kinda
threw together anything i could to
get the house up quick, you know,
i never had the patience for planning.
bricks? uh, yeah, just
put 'em over there.
yep, got wood down, good enough,
throw those two walls up, great,
cardboard? yeah, fuck it, good enough,
lego, whatever.
just get it done.
i just wanna stand on top of my house and look at the view.
people were always so impressed
with how quickly i could build my house.
but when they started looking over my fences,
i guess i just wanted to impress.
so i tore that one down.
threw up another, this time with white siding -
didn't matter that the inside was bare,
it only had to look good from the outside
and keep me standing on the roof.
but i'd get bored, you know,
tear everything down again, build it back up,
i always seemed to be ahead of  the game,
best in the neighborhood.
and i got to watch the sunset from whatever house i had that week
and watch the dark wash over everyone's yards
until they were just the same field again.
and all that was lit up was that horizon.
god, beyond that horizon could be anything,
i just wanted to keep watching it forever,
thinking of every possible landscape
just waiting for me beyond that line.
but i spent so many nights up there
that by the time i saw the sun again
it was through the space of my neighbor's houses.
and i don't know when it happened,
but i blinked, and suddenly i wasn't
the star of the place, i was
just another house.
so i tore down, started again.
and again, and again, and again,
but see, while i'd been content to be ahead so i could
wonder what would happen next,
standing on the top of whatever wobbly structure
i'd thrown up just to look like i was fine,
whatever, it didn't matter that the inside was bare.
but it seemed like i blinked,
and everyone caught up.
it seemed like i blinked, and i
woke up from dreams of what that green field could be,
what it could become just beyond my view,
all that potential -
and while i wasn't looking,
my neighbors finished their houses.
the ones they'd taken all that time to build,
done it right, fuck lego.
just the one - for each of them - just the one.
solid and sturdy and full of life and
"oh," i realized. "homes."
they built homes.
and i was building empty houses like some
makeshift stepping stool,
fixated by a view i thought was mine until the skyline hit,
and i didn't want to share.
it was all i had.
and somehow, those nights on the roof
made me believe i could reach the horizon someday.
but i don't see the sunsets anymore.
i am small and cold and lonely and scared
and not good enough anymore
and everyone else has done all these things
that i don't know how to do
because i never had the patience for planning,
and i never even thought of
home.
i am this empty, haphazard shack of a human being.
because i spent all that time admiring
my potential.
i haven't cut my grass in years,
holy fuck, what are bills?
how am i supposed to live like this?
everything seemed so green and good
when this was all just a field and
how could i let this happen,
let this time pass,
why was i asleep while others were building?
why did i think fooling people with an empty shell was good enough?
god, if i could just go back,
maybe i could do things right,
but GOD, the view.
when the field was dark,
and the horizon was mine.
maybe i should just move out.

a song that is stuck in my head even though it hasn't been written yet:

only the good die young,
and i've never been enough of that.
so i tried cheating my way into heaven,
but i guess that's why they sent me back.

tayloren

i'm not typically the kind of person who struggles with words. for those of you who know me, you'll know that most of the time it is way harder to get me to shut up than it is to get me started. and it's not like loren didn't give me enough notice for this - loren's only been planning her wedding since we were, what, eight? i've only had like the majority of our lives together to figure out what i wanted to say to you today, which is why panic hit me like a freight train 25 days ago when i realized i didn't have anything written. and i had no idea where to start either - the beginning? well that'll take way too long. the end isn't here yet. and the stuff in the middle, i mean - to try and summarize that? it's impossible. so i kept trying to pick out these snapshots of what our friendship has been - what it's meant to me and what i hope it's meant to you... and there are so many stories i could tell, and one i know i'm not allowed to tell, but... there's one story, out of all of them, that refused to let me put it away. it's not a very long one - it's not even a very good one, but. this is the one. back in elementary school, you remember, we used to hang out on that playground in the back corner of your mom's complex - most days we stuck to the swings or the monkeybars - you knew not to trust me on the teeter-totter - but on this particular day, we decided we wanted to take turns trying to run up the slide. and of course you, being all of two feet tall, were having significantly more trouble than i was. so i'd successfully run up the slide a few times now, while you were still working on your first go of things, and on one run you juuust managed to hook your wee fingers over the top lip of that slide. and you're hanging there... like mufasa... and i'm standing there... like scar. and i peeled each of your little fingers off the lip of that slide, and i tossed you back down. and you FLEW - like, it was unreal the amount of air you got off the end of this slide - and you landed like five feet away, face down in the dirt. and you lifted your head up and you had all this muck packed in your upper lip, and you were crying, and i was crying... laughing. and we went back to your place, and you patched yourself up, and we called it a day and spent the rest of the evening inside. and not a week later, we were back out on that playground together. and we were on top of the monkey bars, and i slipped. and i bashed my two front teeth off the bar in front of me, and i'm bleeding and freaking out - and you jumped down to where i was. and we went back to your place, and you patched me up, and we called it a day and spent the rest of the evening inside. and if you're wondering why, out of all the stories i could have told, that was the one that wouldn't leave me alone? yeah. so was i. but i thought about it, and loren - you've always been there for me. even when i didn't return the favor. even when i didn't deserve it, which was often. you've always known how to take care of not just yourself, but everyone around you too. and i'm pretty sure that it's at this point in the speech that i'm supposed to make some sort of threat on your life, taylor, but instead, what i want to say is this: thank you. because there is no one else on this earth worthy of sitting where you are today. you two deserve each other. which is not something i say lightly. the way you two look at each other... is gross. and for the record, loren: i'm sorry i threw you down the slide, it won't happen again. but if it did? i'm glad you found someone who'd be there at the bottom to catch you.

rest in

i'm so close to the edge
of falling in love with being alive,
and i hesitate, but in my defense
i don't know what it's like.

there's a voice in me
that lays me down
in the soft, familiar dark.

there's a choice for me
to make when i have time
to think of what it is i want -

it used to be peace,
but i don't know how i
can live with that.

take from me your calm and more -

rip from me your tired duress,

rage at me like you do best,

tell me, what are friends for?

pride

it's hard enough to admit to fucking up,
nevermind fucking something up this bad,
but here it is:

i regret going to university.

and it sucks, because i had so many wonderful experiences because i did go,
but i can't shake this heavy feeling in my chest. i met extraordinary people,
had the privilege of higher education - how spoiled and selfish must i be
to say that i regret that?

but i do.

and there's guilt and there's shame and there's
so many feelings i don't know how to say,
but god - i used to know what i wanted.

theatre was my life. i was a drama kid all through high school,
my life revolved around this show, the next show,
any chance to get up on stage.

and the people i met at university?
they have no idea.

because i told myself that it was impractical,
as if any dream is ever logical,
and did what i thought i was supposed to.
i took the safe route, i thought.

five years out and i realize that this was never the safe route.
not for me.

because i don't know how to function without passion.
i don't know how to be okay with being something else.

who the fuck am i?

because when i was growing up,
i didn't have a single shred of doubt in my mind -
i was samantha hogan, and i was going to be an actress.
that's it, that's all. that simple.

and i know that there are so many people in the world who don't get to pursue their dreams.
people who have the same thoughts i did, about money and comfort and happiness.

but no, not happiness -
ease.

i've realized that i am not happy with what is easy.
or, more accurately, i'm not happy with what i thought was going to be easy,
because it turned out to be so hard i thought i couldn't survive it.
i tried to kill myself three times, doing what was "easy."

get a degree, get a job, be comfortable.

i don't fucking want to be comfortable. i don't fucking want what is easy -
i want to feel alive again, put my fucking soul into something,
god, i thought auditions were life and death.
i left my heart on the stage.

and i was right.
it was life or death.
all along, it was.

who the fuck am i?

i'm about to move into an apartment in the city,
and losing the commute will give me three extra hours per day.
and everyone keeps asking me:
"what will you do with all that spare time?"

and i have no fucking clue.

what do i do?
what do i like?

who. the fuck. am i.

and pride kept me going,
kept me struggling, self-destructing,
trying to tell myself that this was what i was supposed to do
for four fucking years.

my parents saved tuition money for me for my entire life,
and i used it all up and have nothing to show for it.
i used it all up on the wrong damn thing.

god, i wanna become someone else. if only for a moment -
just one scene.

and this time i'm not talking about a play.
wow, fuck. this is my life.

i left my heart on the stage.

mcgrgr

they repaved the stretch of road that used to mark where you were gone,
and i guess it goes to show that life goes on.
but when i'm driving 'round the curve, my hands go tight around the wheel,
like they might know how it feels

to lose control.

it's getting hard to tell which tree it was that put you down to sleep;
there's new bark to make the impact not so deep.
and i wonder what it's like to never know what happened here,
never think of all the souls who held you dear

when you were whole.