My Confession Poem by Jef L33

I'm not going to lie. I have thought about ending it, many, many, times. But surprisingly I'm still here. No matter how bad the feelings get. No matter how bad I want to yell from the depths of my soul. No matter how bad I want to tear and gnaw the skin from my flesh. Or want to break my fist against the hard surface of the world.
I am still here. Still waking up in the middle of the night. Still lying in the darkness, listening to the wind and rain against the window pain. Still waking up from the worlds of old faces and from lives that were never meant to be. I am still here. I am still here. I am still here.
It has been years since my last confession. Or maybe more truthfully. This is my first. I am torn between hating the world, and wishing I could save it. I am still in love with her. But at the same time I know, I am not in love with her. I am in love with the fiction of her I created. The fiction of the memories, as well as my own unquenched desires. Growing and fading throughout the long stretches of years, trying to grasp old memories, moments when we were almost together. And trying to forget everything else in between. The sweaty hands, the endless hours of staring up at the clouds and blue sky, trying not to look at her, Always trying to figure out what to say, what to say, what to say. Always imagining that she might have felt the same. As we sat alone in that old school parking lot day after day.
It's funny how I always think back to those moments. When life begins to dim. And always wish that I could have gone back and said something, anything. Just so I could have seen where the path would have taken us. I know deep down it probably wouldn't have worked out. I know that she would have still found someone else. I know that we would still end up going our separate ways. And that everything would have ended up the exact same way it has now. But deep inside, I still wanted to try. I still want to try. But it's too late. Much too late. And it is something I will hold in me till the day I die. But for now, I am still here.
I am still here. Stepping through the days, making memories with friends, settling with what I have, instead of drowning in what I don't. Maybe my father was right. And I "should just be happy with what I have." Settling for second or third place, instead of reaching for the gold, only to lose it all and end with nothing. I know I can be content with third place. I know she is everything I had ever wanted in a girl. I know she is the smart choice. But still I find that she is not her.
I am still here. I am still alone, and not alone. I am still in love with my fiction of the past. I am happy, and still unhappy. I am still here, and I don't know where I am going.