Writing

Professor Thale’s eyes flicked to me. “Alright, Ryder. Your turn. Go on—cut it.”  

Third of December, a day I could never forget.
I hold onto the sweater that was meant for me.
I ran to you, excited to share my day,
but your eyes were fixed on her
while we talked.

It all started with the big bang — the mighty "thwack"-ing noise that connected my body to the prickly embrace of the wood chips below. My descent from the jungle gym was far from graceful, solo mission "rescue Mr.

Do you

Ever feel like

You are drowning? I do

Late at night, music that echoes

My soul

I want to cry

I want to let it out

Each tear

A reminder of my failures

Each tear 

Filled with my fears

Each tear

A bottle of sadness 

Maybe anger

I want to cry

But why?

Is the question I'll play on repeat

Because there wasn't really 

Anything special about you

Was there?

At least I can say I tried to like you