Sometimes i want to take all 84 capsules of Prozac
and I find myself holding the bottles
Frequently i want to pry my veins open and watch the sadness pour out
And i find myself holding a razor blade
Occasionally i want to jump off of a building
And i find myself driving towards the city
Every so often I want to wrap my car around a tree
And i find myself letting go of the wheel
Once in a blue moon I feel too full and “you’re fat you’re fat you’re fat” reverberates around my skull
And i find myself kneeling on the bathroom floor
From time to time I forget to get out of bed
a week goes by and i find myself saying “i had the flu”
Now and then i avoid my homework
And find myself staring at 27 missing assignments
No matter how i say it, i always find myself reaching toward destruction and turning away from help
I have become comfortable living with my illness
We have become inseparable
Mostly because i forgot who i was before
And i can’t remember if i liked her.
Aug 3, 2017
Aug 3, 2017 at 2:00 AM UTC
Why does my heart keep beating?
** It died long ago...**
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 12:32 AM UTC
Wearing long sleeves to cover bruised arms
And deleting text messages before bed every night
so my mom wouldn’t see what he was saying
Boys are mean to you if they like you
Boys are really mean to you if they love you
For him, love and hate were two horns on the same bull,
And a lot of the time, he would get the two sides confused
I spent a lot of time Anxiously waiting for his arrival home from school
Tapping pencils on my desk during class
Hoping the clock would just stop moving
I lost many things that semester
My friends, my sanity, 20lbs
I was a book people judged by the cover
Things seemed to be fine
I was fine
I was fine
Never letting anyone else all the way in
It’s hard to ask for help when you don’t know if you need it
It’s harder when you need help, but your scared to ask for it
People accused me of making things worse than they really were,
No one believed me when he drove to my house in the middle of the night
and threatened me until I finally got in his car.
He screamed profanities in my face
And when I went to open the door at a red light, he grabbed my arm
Burning fingerprints into my skin
A lot can change in 4 years
I’ve learned in my lifetime that hurt people are usually the ones
who hurt other people
Hurt people are also the ones that can help people.
Love and hate are two horns on the same bull.
But somewhere along the line
Hate turned into forgiveness
And love grew stronger
And I grew stronger
I realized someone who loves you, will love every part of you. They won't add scars to your body, or heaviness to your heart.
Sep 19, 2016
Sep 19, 2016 at 9:25 PM UTC
You have dreams of big cities and fancy cars and you are surrounded by beautiful people
But your ship is drowning
You've been on this voyage for 18 years now and you've come farther than you ever thought you would have but you will come up alittle short
Just as always
You have such big dreams but larger deadly habits
The razors won't help you and you know that but
Somewhere in your head you have convinced yourself that if you drain out all your blood you will also drain out all the hate and be lighter than ever and then you can finally make it to shore
But, my dear, the hate is not in your blood it is in your head
You are the captain of this sinking ship but your depression is your first mate
Your depression has been the evil stowaway that has been sleeping in your brain for years now
The hate in your head can be traced back to it
You've spent the last eighteen years trying to track its every move
You've performed countless operation on yourself trying to make yourself better trying to remove your depression
You would have thought you were van gogh trying to paint the perfect smile on your face because you know people say smiles can cure depression but i guess you just didn't try hard enough or maybe you should have ate yellow paint instead
But no matter how you decorate the ship it is still sinking
Sep 19, 2016
Sep 19, 2016 at 9:24 PM UTC
"The problem with suicide is that when it becomes an option in your mind, it's always an option."
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 12:37 AM UTC
My dad has always wanted me to write more happy poems, but joy has never rolled off my tongue as eloquently as sorrow.
I tried to sit down the other day and write a poem about the before. But after hours of searching my brain, I realized that I don't remember my body as anything other than the desolate, war-torn site it currently is.
I wish I could pinpoint the exact moment the switch was flipped. Go back to the day I woke up unhappy and force myself to go back to bed. I wish I could rewrite history and completely erase the first time I skipped a meal. I'd throw all the laxatives in the garbage. I never would have bought my first razor blade. Or my second. Or my third. I wouldn't have gotten sent to the hospital.
I guess it's true what they say about hindsight being 20/20. It's so much easier for me to look back on it, knowing what I know now.
I know that people didn't suddenly love me more just because I was less to take in. And scars are permanent; they don't fade just because the feelings attached to them do. I also realize that the only thing the hospital stay did was make me more of a burden to my family.
I'd love to tell 10 year old Briauna all this before she has to face it on her own, but why would she believe me? I wouldn't want to believe me either. Who would want to go watch a movie, when all the reviews rated it a waste of time?
So if I were to go back into the past, I'd focus on telling my younger self about the rebirth rather than the wreckage. I would tell her that tattoos will someday take the place of self-inflicted scars. That this time around there was a beauty behind the pain. That one day she will relearn what it means to eat whenever she's hungry and not stop until she's full. I'd tell her that nothing good ever came from being empty. I'd talk about how she adores others blindly and never lets her passion be dimmed. I'd tell her not to stress when the urge to claw her skin off remains well into recovered territory because she gets better at remembering to trim her nails.
I'd say baby girl I know you can get through this because I'm standing right here.
We'll get through this.
We're getting through this.
We got through this.
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 12:30 AM UTC
I haven't seen my therapists in months
& everyone assumes that's a good thing.
I seem happier
& everyone thinks that I'm getting better.
I'm writing again
& everyone says writing is a healer.
They forget that therapists & medicine is for those who can still be helped. That being content is one of the final steps in ending your life.
My poetry is my suicide note and I'm writing again.
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 5:01 PM UTC
You tried to change me and maybe that's why I actually weighed my options this time. You forced me to realize the handprints I left on people's life. I'm sorry that the only ones I left on you were around your neck. I swear to god I was just trying to hold your face in my hands so I could kiss you. Maybe I just treated you the way I wanted to end myself. & like drugs, people become toxic. But we don't always start out that way. I am a parasite, slowly but surely destroying you. I can't tell if I push you away because I'm trying to save you or **** myself. I'm a drug, a parasite and the worst possible thing to love. i destroy everything in my path. & im tired of hurting people. I will only be content when you are safe so let ME save YOU. You made me promise I wouldn't end my life but let's compromise... How about I promise to end it quickly?
- I don't want to hurt you anymore
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 8:15 PM UTC
the sickest part
about realizing you are in love with someone
is figuring out that
they don't have to love you back
we believe that
the person that we hold closest to us
should hold onto us just as tightly
sometimes they can't
because they are too busy
holding onto someone else
who isn't holding them back either
and the trend goes on forever.
so after all of this, here i am
sitting on the edge of another strangers bed
coughing up all the 'i love you's that were said to me
but never meant for me
i realize now that curses don't always unbreak
the past is tied to you
like cinder blocks around your ankles
and pressing hard against your chest
like the weight of his other woman
your true loves kiss
wont fix a **** thing
if the love isnt mutual
lately ive learned that
it is sometimes better when you get stuck
kissing your own wounds
and sometimes is always
i never believed that i was somebody
that someone else could love again
thank you for proving me right
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 11:56 AM UTC
They teach you a lot in school
How to add, multiply, divide,
& subtract.
But they don't teach you how to say
you're sorry for wanting to **** yourself
when everyday, people who want to live
die.
They don't teach you how to deal with
the aching sadness,
the crippling darkness,
& the desire to subtract yourself
from this life.
I know how to factor,
but I don't know how to hold myself together.
They can teach you a lot in school.
But they couldn't teach me
to love myself.
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 9:24 PM UTC