Catching Breath.

A heartbeat fell flat between those two pairs of colliding lips. A dull roar fell silent that had gone unnoticed anyway. Ears no longer rest on the space between what is forbidden and what is sweet, and with all that is programmed to love stationed within its limits, love is a forgotten game. We are youth with a nasty habit for what is convenient. We cling to the kid with no social graces because he has a fake ID and the cash flow to support its benefits. We hold the hands of the one who is wrong for us because they make us feel alive in the most shameless way possible. We love her because she can get us a discount. We hang out with him because he has a heated pool and a big backyard.

Do you ever wonder what people see in you? Is it a sucker or a genuine person? Could it possibly be both? In the end, everyone uses everyone, but everyone feels the right to take the greatest of offenses when their actions catch the wind and fly back through their window. A mind running on low energy and even lower tolerance is a dangerous thing to flaunt. No wonder faith is few and far between when it comes to the young. Faith in anything but the party scene is set aside for the different, the brave, and quite often, the socially unaccepted. We're eager to believe in the latest good time and slow to believe in anything that tells us the things we do aren't right. But if everyone does it when they're young, is it wrong? Despite the realizations it's a cycle I intend not to break.

Sheets of paper and others slightly softer follow me throughout my days, and somehow I find my way back to them when I'm a little less or more honest. It depends on the day if I'm lying. Swallowed pride, but spit out fire; liars turn me on. I'm just another example for future generations that will inevitably turn out just like me. I'm good, but I sin. At times the sin defines me, and at times I spite it. I'm sick of taking the paddles to my own body, but I use them to reenergize every now and then. Maybe I'm not so sick of it after all. Again, it varies with the day-to-day nature of it all.

It's amazing how the same thing, person, feeling can mean everything to you one day and nearly nothing to the next. The same hands and faces that inspire awe evoke fury. Some people carry poison in their pockets where other would carry their wallets. I could've sworn you clouded the vision of every soul with any bit of potential. Your charm is impossible and infuriating, and yet I still catch its scent. What do you do? Where can I learn? I could count to seven or lose my head trying to count to godknowswhat. I'm confident in the cockiest of ways at my trigger's mention. I'm weak in the most helpless of ways when it falls away.

We're never gone for long when we run away from anything. I never have been able to make myself an exception to the rules. I don't know if I ever will be that extraordinary heartbeat one day, but I'm too young and crazy not to hope. This is the beauty of all that is dripping with uncertainty in the army of weekend warriors: that we hope for the best and play like we'll live forever. Sunshine, I'm alive. Sunshine is finally hot on my skin. I live for it. My heart is beating in time to the lifeline of my favorite songs. Those two sets of lips didn't crush it after all. I'm breathing.

No second of life is wasted.