Read @ 12:17am

We are defined by the simplicity of a few words.

Morphed out of nothing, as if expectations should really come from a boy in your chem class.

He says he likes his girls skinny.

But not too skinny.

But also not too fat.

“She's too ugly.”

He says he likes his girls dumb thick.

Jawns.

thots.

But not too much of a thot.

But don't be a prude.

She says she only likes her guys tall.

He needs to be 6'2

And skinny.

She says she likes her guys strong.

But not too strong.

But not too scrawny.

with a jawline and dreamy eyes.

and hair that looks like Derek Shepherd's.

 

So we put ourselves down.

We define who someone is by the image they portray, not the message they preach.

No wonder high school is the worst time.

Trying to find who we are, while hiding what we want to be.

So instead of telling someone to their face,

We hug them, then turn them around.

Carving the words we really mean into their back.

Letter by letter.

Or send a screenshot to a group message that will eventually find its way back.

High school is hard enough without worrying about whether your friends are going to be your friends tomorrow.

Passing or failing.

But you're really worried that your boyfriend isn't talking to any other girls.

Because you can't check his snapchat best friends anymore.

He says,”Saturdays are for the boys.

We’re just going to the Chris's house.”

But the snap she receives consists of half of his face

and a couch doesn't look like his boy's house.

 

So she cries herself to sleep.

 

Without ever knowing the truth.

 

Too scared to ask,

Out of fear that he will

leave her if she says something wrong.

We put our trust in the wrong hands.

Believing it is love when lust is so easily found.

She trusted him,

now everyone has seen what she looks like under all that.

He trusted her,

now screenshots of his feelings are out for the world to see.

 

Vulnerable.

For what 100 likes.

A few laughs.

A fake pictured on Instagram,

where your teeth are whiter and your waist is smaller.

There is an app for everything

"No, I want the left side,

that's my good side."

All for a like from that special person.

Praying their name will pop up on your screen but all it says is software update.

Clicking remind me tomorrow for the fifteenth tomorrow.

Praying that the next tomorrow you receive a text, asking to hang out.

But instead, you receive a dm at 11 at night asking

for your snapchat.

Because she's not worth more than that.

But by the third snap she's bare and he's gone.

He told his boys it was just for fun

“We’re just friends”

But double texts and emojis mean more to

the girl that loves even when she knows it won't last

If only girls would realize the words “send nudes”

will never ever be romantic no matter how much he says he’s all about you

 

Maybe if we had to work a little harder to find the love we deserve,

we wouldn't settle for what we believe we deserve.

Because so many words are overused.

I love you's become hellos.

Sex becomes a necessity,

not a symbol of love.

Alcohol becomes abundant

Not an age requirement.

So tell me how you feel.

140 characters later.

Hoping, that that one person sees your subtweet.

Face to face is old fashion, they say.

“I'm here" is sent as if doorbells do not exist.

All for hookups or fake love.

No doors are being opened or father’s meeting dates.

Instead, we hide behind our screen praying her father isn’t home.

Our generation has blurred the line of love and lust so hard.

That when real love is found after peeling past the layers of hurt.

Finally reaching our hearts, just to have it ripped from our hands because something better came along.

Real love is more of a curse when all those around you, try to beat down your doors until

nothing is left.

“Delivered at 12:16am"

"Read at 12:17am"

2 minutes later.

Wondering what you did wrong.

Replaying every moment in the past 5 years of your life that could possibly have affected this one moment.

"R u mad at me?"

"Delivered at 12:22am."

Is this what defines an argument?

The first step to telling someone you are mad without ever looking at their face.

Because the worst pain is being left on read?

They say, if you want to know who someone really is text them between the hours of 12 and 3 am.

Until one or the other falls into serenity hoping, He meant what he said in the early morning.

And if you wake up one morning feeling as though you want more than drunken parties and half ass friends.

Look for those who have been there by your side because those who ask nothing from you deserve the most.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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