nathan-serling-author

[nathan-serling-author]

Maybe Love

I’ve learned, in my nineteen years on this earth

That you must choose who you love carefully

Because one day you will run out of love to give

And nobody will waste their time replenishing your supply

And I have learned to hold onto what little love I have left

Because one day I’ll find someone who truly deserves the last of it

And then they can do what I know they always do

Spit it back in my face when they’ve had enough of me

But maybe it’s my own fault, maybe I’m just terrified of love

Maybe I can’t find a way to love myself

Or maybe I’m terrified of hate

Maybe I just can’t forget how to hate myself

Maybe I’m scared of who I feel I’m gonna wind up being

Maybe I’m afraid that one day I’ll get mad enough that I’ll just explode

And maybe your shadow burned into this wall would be all I had left of love

But, I know I’m not a nuclear bomb, I’m just a man

A man that doesn’t even know who he loves, or why he loves them

Maybe I just have too much love for all the wrong people

Maybe I should invest in myself before I buy a lover

But nobody ever bothered to tell me that love wasn’t easy

Nobody told me that it would be so damn hard to find

Maybe they did and I just didn’t listen

Maybe I’m just lost in fever dreams and happy endings

Maybe love is somewhere I’ve never been and will never be

Maybe love is someone I’ll never meet

Maybe love is someone I passed on the street

Maybe I never felt like I deserved love

Maybe I never will deserve love

But maybe I do deserve love

I mean, I believe we all do

So, maybe one day I could feel like I’m loved

And maybe that could be enough

[nathan-serling-author]

Mother

I wandered through these halls half a million times

Grasping at straws and looking for signs

I wondered if you’d ever feel the way I do

Maybe I just wasn’t meant for you

I’ve given up, you can forget my name

Because I know you’ll never feel the same

I know you want to, I know you used to

But you just don’t know me anymore

All these thoughts, ran through my head

Several times, I’d just be better off dead

I can’t believe love did this to me

They wouldn’t believe you did this to me

I can’t believe I’m writing this for you

So many years since my heart forgot about you

I can’t forget, I can’t replace

This dark shadow cast over the haze

I’m moving on, you can forget my voice

Because I know you’ve made your choice

I know you can’t, and I know you won’t

I know you never loved me anyway

You acted like a mother that hated her kids

You kept us in jars with airtight lids

Gasping for life, choking on love

That we know you were never aware of

You were trapped in your trauma, and lost in your mind

Free to damage anyone that you could find

I hated that I loved you

What was I thinking

I’ve forgotten you, like you’d forgotten me

You won’t see me, for another eternity

Maybe one day, you’ll know what you did

On you, I seal the lid

[nathan-serling-author]

October 8th 2016

Dear Friend,

Hey. I’m sure you’re wondering what this is doing in your inbox. Or maybe you’ll never get this. Maybe some NSA analyst is reading this ten years from now. Either way, I’m doing this more for myself than I am for you. I’m tired of feeling silenced, and feeling like I’m completely out of control of everything. So, writing this to you, in hopes that my doing so won’t eventually come back to bite me in the ass, is a way to gain some control back. I know what you must be thinking, who is this kid, and why is emailing me? Of all people? Well, it’s because I know you’re the one kid that won’t do anything about it. You’re like me. Quiet, loud, shy, overbearing, depressed, happy, alone, and surrounded. You’re so confused as to who you are, you might as well be no one. And according to everyone else, that’s correct.

I mean no offense in my saying this. Believe me, I have more respect for you than I do anyone else in this hellhole. But part of me wonders what that says about me. I mean, I respect you, but you’re so much like me. So, does that mean I respect me? Because I’ve made so many humiliating mistakes these last few years that I don’t think anyone’s capable of believing that I do. 

I’m sorry, I’m getting off track here. I guess that’s what happens when you’ve been sitting at your computer for two hours simply building up the courage to email someone. I suppose I should tell you my name. But, I don’t think that’ll benefit either of us. So, you can just call me Mike. And of course, since this is a one-way conversation, I suppose that formality doesn’t really matter.

The people I’ll be talking about through these emails, I won’t be using their real names. Even though I’m fairly certain that you won’t figure out who I am, I still don’t want this to reach anyone else. I’d like for this to stay between you and me. Or at least, the me I allow you to see.

I’d like to start with my best friend, Sarah. She likes to write too. Did I mention that I like to write? It doesn’t matter. You can tell by the length of this email. Anyway, she likes to write too, and we have a lot in common. We both have blue eyes, we’re both super skinny, and we both absolutely hate pop music. She’s more into classic rock, while I love modern stuff. There’s actually this band that I found a few weeks ago. They’re called The Amity Affliction. They’re really good. You might not like them. Half the song is screaming, but sometimes, all I wanna do is scream.

This is kind of what I was afraid of. I thought writing an email about how I feel might help, but it only makes things worse. Now I just feel like all the bad in my mind has been amplified. I hate how it feels.

I need to end this here or I might get really bad. Thank you for listening. Or for having an email address.

Love,

Mike