I used to smile at everything like nothing ever broke my heart. Nothing could displease my spirit, and how easily it was to say hello to people.

I used to love everything like if only I could hug it for a second, the world would have been a much better place.

I used to look at people with full intents to trust them without a second glance, but now I’m cautious of who I trust and I hawk through my environment.

I used to see souls empty out their day as they sigh, but all I see around nowadays are people either emotionally messed up or torn inside as they pretend to be happy. They make casual talk with you because it’s accepted, because it's what were used to. It's what our parents taught us anyway. We can be friends, sure. but hey? We don’t have to say a thing, I can look into your eyes and see the battles you've lost and the wars you've won. They call that empathy. I don’t have say a thing and play along and i expect you to do the same. "That's what friends do", they said. Even though we hardly even care.

I used to be honest with everyone, but then I found out that I could lie to make people smile. A little white lie, to see a pretty smile. "You look beautiful today." Hey, she smiled. Look. "Your tie looks amazing." Hey, he smirked. I got a response. Maybe it’s not so bad to lie. It helps. I guess I never learned the concept, so I picked up poetry instead. They told me that there's beauty in poetry, that there's beauty in pain, if so, will there be beauty in me?

I used to cry when people died, but then I almost died myself and I remember not shedding one tear. It was comforting, really.

I used to think the world was beautiful, until I saw what I could do to people. And then I realized that I wasn’t beautiful and neither is the world. And then I keep writing about a girl who didn’t know any better, so she breaks, breaks and breaks more people including me. And then I kept writing about a guy who only wanted a friend, so I wrote more to keep him company. They said that you're never alone as long as poetry is around, as long as the letters and the spaces and the words kept you warm at night.

I used to freely laugh until I saw myself in the mirror and hated myself because my eyes were like my father's. People say i look more like my mom now but i'd always see the old me, the skinny dark skinned little girl, the one who looked more of him that any other. I liked it because it made me think that even in my slightest features, i'd look like him. That even if i hated him for the crimes he did that kept me up at night-- that i'd still be able to tell the little me that behind all these plaster of make up, there is him in me. always.

I used to joke about myself. I learned to unlearn things because it’s true what they say about growing up; We live and we learn. We break to become whole. We fall in love just to fall out of it. We write to become letters that we never plan to publish or even to read out loud. We throw up the vows of knowing how to properly love people at the expense of satisfaction.

I used to be drug free, until I smoked my first joint. Everything became a movie and I still free fall through the cracks of being elevated. I was continuously laughing, not even pretending that i was happy because i don't have to--feel anything. At all.

I used to be anxious about everything, until I saw myself waking up to nobody by my side. Now I wake up and blame myself for why I am alone. But then i got used to it. I guess eventually everyone who is, gets used to it.

I used to be happy and then I woke up one morning and decided that I was going to be a sad poet. I used to be normal without all these words clinging on my chest like i need it to mean something, anything, and then I fell asleep with the thought that if I could change one thing about myself, what would it be? guess I'd change my 'used to be’s'. That I will be full of life again and even though it’ll take time, even though I may break, it will happen.

It may take some time, yes, I’ll might have to crack open a clock and ask, where is your heart? and imagine it'd answer me, "the seconds" . i'll gladly shout that "I gave them all to you!" like i'm screaming at the top of my lungs so that someone could hear, "The minutes, you blew them all away. The hours, you broke the spine of the universe and still you ask why." I'll do it all as if it would mean anything to you now, as if it would change something for us now, as if it would help me and the time that they speak of to heal my hopeless bleeding heart that continues to ask every cell, every atom, "why". It may take some time, yes, but at least i get to try again.

I used to believe that time was on my side, but now I realize, time is me. I am time. We spend and spend, and we forget about the years we spent spending. We spend so much time, it became exhausting. We spend time on broken promises, on pretending we're happy, on false friendships and on doomed relationships. We cried about all that so much, that’s why oceans exists. So as a reminder, I or we, since were all in this together, run dry today, just know that we can fill it right up. So the only real advice here is that: just cry. It helps, they said. It’s okay to be vulnerable anyway. It’s okay to be sensitive. It’s okay to be you.

I used to believe that I couldn’t do anything with my life, but then I picked up the pen and just finally let myself be poetry. Beautiful, drastic and unapologetic.

I used to think about my life from different angles, but then I finally saw the point of it all. The only reason why I'm still alive, why after countless self destructing acts, I'm still here. I was given one so that i'll be able to give one. One to write this very poem for. One to help myself realize the truth. One to love like I could never anyone more than i intend to love you.

To always try and try until the bad habits somehow and in someway–

become beautiful enough to be good.

All for you, son. All for you.