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.
Jun 27, 2017
Jun 27, 2017 at 12:47 AM UTC
Time expands and collapses and crumbles in my hands
I’m caught in a hurricane of thoughts refusing to escape my being
Insults created especially for me echo through the shell that i have become
I feel my legs bouncing like they’re convincing themselves to leave me
My stomach churns like the spin cycle on a washing machine
I’m tired of feeling empty yet so full and heavy that each step i take is a battle in and of itself because my legs alone are 10,000 insufferable pounds
I watch my chest rise and fall but it feels like an overweight white man is sitting directly on my lungs
I am consumed by the urge to cry out for help but my mouth has been sewn shut by your assumptions that each move i make is for attention.
Jun 27, 2017
Jun 27, 2017 at 12:47 AM UTC
Sixth grade was the first time I remember feeling out of place in my own body. I tried on a shirt from the year before and realized I wasn't the same size anymore. I felt strange for a moment, then brushed it off. I threw away the shirt the next day. By the end of middle school I knew I was bigger than my friends, but I tried to avoid thinking about it. I just wanted to fit in like the rest of them.
Freshman year I got called fat and decided to make myself invisible. Treated every food as if it an allergy. Lost 30 pounds in 60 days. Told my parents I already ate. Told my friends I was eliminating junk food. Told no one my secret for years.
Gained my weight back then lost it just as quickly. The never ending cycle of starving, binging, purging.
Starving, binging, purging.
Starving, binging, purging.
Nobody notices when I fall off track because disordered eating is only cared about when the victim is skinny enough that you can see the evidence. I have been terrified for four years to speak out for fear nobody would believe me when I told them.
No one expects a bigger girl to not know how to feed herself.
There is something to say about a culture so warped that I get upset by the fact I don't have a stereotypical eating disorder body.
Sometimes I wish it was more obvious, so at least that way they could see how hard I'm trying to be perfect... To fit in.
America, am I not sick enough for you already?
Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 11:03 PM 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 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 11:23 PM UTC
My therapist always tells me that one day I will be grateful for the fact that I can empathize more than the typical person, assures me that the need to place myself in others shoes is a privilege, not a curse. But how many miles can you walk in other's shoes before you collapse from always being on the move? How long does it take before the lines begin to blur between support and codependency? How many people do I have to help before my existence feels valid? Will someone else please take a turn bearing the cross because I've grown tired and it's time for me to rest.
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 10:26 PM UTC
Is it appropriate to mourn for something you only came close to losing? Because lately I've been stumbling through graveyards wondering why it's the only place I feel at home.
This isn't me saying that I want to attempt suicide again, but rather a way of me saying that I didn't survive the first time around.
I am merely a phantom of who I used to be.
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 12:08 AM UTC
I just hope that whenever my feet are finally dancing a lethal dance at a bridge's ledge, that your voice is the one I hear shouting "don't jump".
Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 9:38 PM UTC
If only kisses to scars worked as well as they used to for scraped knees.
If only band-aids truly fixed bullet wounds.
If only laughter cured any form of sadness.
If only tears could wash away our troubles like they were nothing more than specks of dirt.
If only every big issue in life could be solved with kindergarten solutions.
Dec 26, 2015
Dec 26, 2015 at 7:29 PM UTC
Just because I'm an atheist,
doesn't mean I lack morality.
In fact, my morality
is what I pride myself on.
I have this strong urgency
to love everyone
because I refuse to listen to
the God of discrimination.
I certainly don't need a book
that condones **** slavery,
misogyny, and genocide
to teach me right from wrong.
Just because I'm an atheist,
doesn't mean my life has no meaning
It just means I have
the freedom to choose my own.
I have value
because I know how
to be a giving person
without having to be tempted
with eternal bliss.
If you're only being helpful
to others due to a promised reward,
does it not cease to
be a good deed?
Just because I'm an atheist,
doesn't mean I have no one
to look up to.
God doesn't create us,
women do.
And why the hell
can't I praise a goddess?
We are creating misogyny
young, claiming that
little girls are always to
put a him first,
instead of themselves.
Just because I'm an atheist,
doesn't mean I hate God.
It's impossible that which
you do not believe exists.
And I desperately don't want
him to exist, because if he does,
then that means he doesn't care,
that he's okay with
watching me suffer.
I don't need any more
people letting me down.
Just because I'm an atheist,
doesn't mean I worship the devil.
It's impossible to worship
that which you do not
believe exists.
But if he did exist,
then I would embrace him
at hells entrance -
tell him I too know what it's like
to be turned into something evil.
Thank him for taking all
the rejected souls that God
turned away without a second glance
Remind him that losing
something good can win you
something great.
Just because I'm an atheist,
doesn't mean I think
Billy Graham is a ********
No, I actually do
think Billy Graham is a ********
Anyone who has the audacity
to claim God wanted
marriage to be between
a man and a woman,
when marriage was constructed
long before Christianity was,
doesn't deserve to be
preaching to our children.
This is indoctrination
of the worst kind.
Just because I'm an atheist,
doesn't mean I hate religious people,
only what they preach.
I'm tired of people blanketing
their bigotry with
"religious freedom"
and getting away with it.
If you build a fire
to warm yourself,
and end up burning down
someone's home,
your warmth doesn't bring
their house back.
And it doesn't let you off
the hook for accountability....
Unless you're a Christian
because America was founded
on Christian morals, right?
***** John Adams who says
"The Government of the
United States of America
is not in any sense founded on
the Christian religion."
Or Thomas Jefferson
who encourages you to
"Question with boldness
even the existence of a god."
Or James Madison who once said
"Christianity's fruits are
superstition, bigotry,
and persecution."
But what do the
founding fathers know anyway?
This nation was created only
for those deemed worthy,
those who never realize
they have the right to
think for themselves.
Just because I'm an atheist,
doesn't mean I have all the answers.
But neither do you.
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 8:52 PM UTC
Airports may be one of the busiest places on earth, but they are also one of the loneliest. The walls echo with words unsaid, the I love you's and please don't go's that plague the halls are so evident that if you stay silent long enough, you're bound to hear the whispers. Strangely enough, I've always been in love with them.. This must be the reason why I always treat relationships like they're nothing more than a pit stop on my journey. A place to restore my energy and get me back on my feet, so that I may once again leave. I don't know how to force myself to stay.... I'm scared I never will.
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 10:55 PM UTC