please, darling… i’m begging you not to leave me here. in the heavy weight of my loneliness, where not even the flimsiest of daisies might grow. where i get taller, and somehow the days get longer and longer… because i can’t walk this road alone.

hey honey… if my mind is nothing but a bed of needles, what will happen when i let go? when i walk across the expanse of sharp, bleeding points barefoot, screaming at the top of my lungs, because i want you to know.

oh, sweetheart… please don’t yell like this, your voice a shrieking fever pitch. you’re scaring me so…

o my beloved, i’ll do anything. even if i only get your love for less than a second… it’s worth it. and i tell myself each time that you’ll pay back what you owe…

dear lovebug… please don’t go.

Summers… have always been a difficult time for me. I guess this long period of transition just gets to me. I don’t know. Even though I’m not going into a new grade yet, it feels like things are already changing so quickly.

People are leaving. I’m looking for jobs, and I have a temporary thing gardening for my mom’s coworker, which isn’t that big of a deal but also totally is. I feel so old, all of a sudden, I don’t know. (And so young at the same time.) And, I mean, I have a mini-breakdown every time the seasons change and I realize it’s time to start wearing jean shorts rather than regular jeans–I’m not exactly the greatest at coping with change, is what I’m trying to get at here. And it’s really terrifying, I guess. I feel like I’m in this weird state of empty limbo, not really sure what to do with myself, just really lost and confused, and feeling kind of abandoned, in a lot of ways–by all these things that characterized a period of my life… now becoming history. (Which I’m supposed to be excited by, right? But I’m not. I never am. Even when leaving things behind is for the better.)

This is why this poem has such strong themes of the past and the present, I wanted it to have a really vintage vibe, with lots of mildly melodramatic old-Disney-movie-vibes. I think I might make it into a spoken word track, because, well we all know that I am weak for a retro aesthetic. I wanted it to feel sad, and scared, and just a little needy, with the same kind of voice you might have used when you woke your mom up at 4am because you want a glass of water, or you feel sick, or you have a nightmare or something. Because I think a lot of people still have a small piece of that little kid in them, buried deep down.

Anyhow. It is, yet again, very late, and I am tired, so I’m going to go to sleep. I hope you all are doing okay.

Lots of love,


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