Maybe they'll love Mea when she's finally gone. Maybe they'll notice that she was ever there at all. Maybe they'll think more of her than someone who can do nothing but fail. Maybe they'll actually care now. Who are 'they,' you ask? 'Everyone' is your answer. [WARNING: Contains self-mutilation, cutting, and suicide. If this makes you uncomfortable, please feel free to leave at your own will.]

I am the man who you met at the party. The one you talked with, laughed with, the man you went home with. I am the man you chatted with all night on your couch, the man who didn't touch you.

This is really just a collection of poems I wrote because I had nothing better to do. Like always... ANYWAY! read?