I thought it was mumbled confessions and whispers of regret,
I thought it was about liability and responsibilites,
I thought it was painful and angry but being poised enough to not let it show.
Nobody told me it was loud and unconditional and would make me feel like there's no air around me but in a good way,
Nobody told me it was about honesty and loyalty and commitment and want and lust and yearning to be a better person so I can be the best me for my best person,
Nobody told me it was gonna feel like I'm gonna explode because im so passionate, or that problems seize to exist when when I wedge my head into the warm crevis between his chest and chin and he won't even let me wipe my own tears,
and I don't take pills anymore because he waits to fall asleep until I've fallen asleep,
And I feel like the world is at my fingertips when he giggles at me and says my eyes are shimmering when really i just won't shut up about something important to me but it's actually irrelevant.
Nobody told me it was magical and nobody mentioned love would save me.
Jun 11, 2016
Jun 11, 2016 at 10:42 PM UTC
I don't look for happiness in the bottom of ***** bottles anymore,
and that's good enough for me.
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 11:11 PM UTC
I want to know
why im never good enough
I want to know
What happened,
What made you change your mind
I want to know
What's wrong with me
I want to know
Why some nights I toss and turn and some nights I can't keep my eyes open past 7
I want to know
Why dragging a blade across my skin makes me feel better
I want to know
Why it's hard to breathe sometimes
I want to know
How to stop the voices
I want to know
Why I hear voices,
It's like my own voice,
But in my head
Badgering me,
Harassing me,
Scaring me,
Demanding answers.
It starts off soft, slow: 'why weren't you good enough for him?'
Then it gets louder, less friendly: 'probably cause you're fat, and if not that then you're just ugly'.
I want to know
If the headaches will ever stop
I want to know if any of these pills this man, with many framed papers on his wall,
is giving me are going to help me
I want to know
If I'll ever get better.
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 1:37 AM UTC
I barely remember how your voice sounds anymore,
or at least I like to think I've almost forgotten.
It still echoes in my empty head late at night when I can't sleep...
Your voice sounds so close now but so far away.
I thought I could feel your rough hands
around my neck
when you typed how badly you craved me.
I felt my heart skip
And my skin burn,
When you said tensions were high
and you missed me.
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 10:27 PM UTC
I knew right away,
that one day,
I was going to have bottles in my bedside table that would be dedicated to making me whisper your name into the toilet bowl at 3 in the morning,
while you were tucked away under 800 stitch Egyptian silk sheets,
sound asleep,
with her.
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 5:14 AM UTC
I once read that other people are not medicine,
And that you shouldn't make your foundation of happiness a person,
but I can't help it,
Your words make me feel safe
And wrapped in your arms
Is my happy place.
You are fighting your own battles,
and sometimes you don't want me by your side,
and sometimes you annoy me,
and sometimes you call me selfish,
and sometimes you're right.
I didn't tell you to text me at 2AM that summer night and say "go to sleep cutie, it'll be okay",
and I didn't ask you to tell me your secrets that you now regret telling.
I didn't ask for your help,
I didn't ask you to waltz into my broken life and tell me about your broken life.
I didn't ask you to make me care more about you than I do myself,
and I didn't ask you to try and fix me.
But your words make me feel safe,
And wrapped in your arms
Is my happy place.
But I did not ask you to be my medicine.
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 5:18 PM UTC
Today in English class we read Hamlet
By William Shakespeare
And Hamlet tells his lover
"I loved you once"
And it reminded me of you,
Except I still love you.
Or maybe I don't,
I'm not sure.
All I know is everything reminds me of you,
And you're still the last thing on my mind before I fall asleep at night.
I've written you so many poems and letters
That you'll never read
And even if you did, you wouldn't care.
I've been in a lot of fights with a lot of people
But none of them have ended better than "and even after everything I just want you in my arms right now"
And I remember staying up till 4AM with you that night,
Gasping for air and begging you to stay.
It was the first time you expressed any emotions for me- besides lust
But you still wouldn't say you loved me
And you still wouldn't say it after you left me
For my best friend and then came crawling back,
And you wouldn't say it after I told you how broken my heart was,
But I bet you said it to her when she was your homecoming date,
And I bet you scream it at the top of your lungs for her little sister now, don't you?
I've written this poem a million times but this one is the messiest, and my mind is messier.
I'd ask why you never said you love me but I know you didn't,
And I'm just glad I never told you I did.
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 5:09 PM UTC
I think about things
and I start to fall apart
and my mind slowly unravels,
Desperately trying to spin the story a certain way that doesn't make you the bad guy.
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 12:36 AM UTC
I feel like there are crumbling cinder blocks where my beating heart should be, and Im trying to explain to you how it feels but it's so chaotic and now it doesn't feel like cinder blocks it feels like someone used my torso as punching bag from the inside out cause I can't breath.
it's so hard to just breathe sometimes.
You wake up and complain about school cause your bed is warm and you're too tired, my bed is warm too and I'm tired too but I never sleep. My mind likes to run marathons when I think about you and how many times you probably kissed her that day. And I like school, I get out of this house that is referred to as "home". If this is your love, I don't want it.
It feels like my world will stop spinning if that person isn't involved in it. your voice silenced the anxiety and the pain and the anger and the insecurities and the voices. Those fuckinggggg voices. And your eyes were chocolate brown but u were only sweet when you wanted something.
It feels like fighting the urge to punch every mirror before you can see your reflection, and every wall cause he didn't reply to your text yet. Bruises would be so special and beautiful if they were inspired by you.
It's so conflicting because my anxiety makes me feel like everyone is paying attention to me but depression taps me on the shoulder and reminds me that those girls at the end of the hall are probably not laughing about me cause I'm nothing to no one. But this anxietyyyy, any interaction feels like my world is shaking and I forget how to breath and my hands won't stop dripping.
It feels like somebody is playing darts with my heart and twisting shards of glass even deeper. It's frustrating to try and convey how i feel cause to you it must seem crazy that the darkness can be ground shakingly loud and my body can feel like a million heavy pieces about to shatter if I move. I can't explain and you won't understand any way because even I don't have an explanation as to why my brain feels like an ocean during a ******* storm.
It's eating me alive cause everything is splashing around in my mind and i can't make it stop or even slow down and on the outside I'm trying so hard to keep it together and play it cool when on the inside there's lightning and thunder crashing and probably some sunshine but I'm too busy worrying about if that branch is going to crack and fall on me or if your paying attention to me or texting her back and I look you in the eye and I can't help but wonder if you can see what I'm feeling.
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 12:36 AM UTC
self harm is not beautiful.
it is not wonderful to be saved
it makes you feel weak
and it makes you feel sick.
carving his name into your skin
is not poetry
and is not romance
mental illness is not glamourous
or fascinating
or graceful
mental illness is sickness
anger, disgust
stop romanticizing something
that destroys life itself
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 9:37 PM UTC