Because I am Sad.
artists' brains don't work the way they want them to.
But what about the people who aren't artists?
The people who are sad.
The people who are sick.
But have no idea how to hold a paintbrush,
Is there an excuse for them?
Is there no worth in a sad person who cannot contribute something beautiful?
Can I just be sad, because I am sad?
An Old Sitcom.
you're like a rerun of an old tv show; the kind that nobody wants to watch anymore.
flicking through channels, flicking right past you.
you're not the episode with the celebrity guest star; you're not the Christmas special.
people cared when you first aired, but not now.
it was fun the first time; nobody expected it, but now you're boring.
overplayed.
always sad. always distant. always empty. the ending never changes.
nobody wants to watch anymore.
snapchat friend.
you posted on instagram.
he added you on snapchat.
how are you? how's school? we haven't talked in so long.
response. response. response.
"you have a boyfriend?"
"yes"
no response.
a trophy to be won.
you delete the photos of your exboyfriend.
your instagram is filled with friend snapshots and selfie pictures.
you gain a snapchat friend.
a guy from high school snapchats you.
a guy from your gym snapchats you.
a guy on twitter dm's you.
a guy from theatre asks you on a date.
isn't it interesting all these people who want to get to know you-
now that they think you're up for the taking?
nobody wants to know a friend.
nobody wants to remember that you're a person.
not a pretty selfie.
not a trophy.
not a claim.
not something to brag about to the guys.
you're a person.
you're laughing with your friends.
you're jokes that you make when you're happy.
you're poetry that you write when you're sad.
you're a smile, and a frown and tears rolling down red cheeks.
you're so much more than a man.
and no man can take that away from you ever again.
