I fell in love with the girl behind the screen. You were an ex-convict who spoke too sweetly of the way my legs looked in the exaggeratedly posed photos I would send you. In my state of false teen rebellion and defiance for society, I did the one thing you told me to never do; I fell in love with you. Thoughts of you sent me into a fourth dimension where sunrises did not signal the end of sleep but rather the beginning of a slothful day. I wanted to kiss every freckle I imagined would be on your face; imagined only because I never knew what your face held, and feared I never would. I fell in love with a faceless girl. Mirages of walking hand in hand through the streets were inevitable, until darkness came and those sweet mirages morphed to the pleasure of your whimpering body tied to the bed. Whilst I dreamt of being with you, you were enveloped with your girlfriend who spent too much time with others who were not you. I imagine I gave in to giving you everything you plead for all too easily, giving you too much. I gorged you with texts of compassion when you begged for relationships of sadism, a gorging of the type I did not wish to give you. I wanted to be the girl that caused your empty breaks in conversation when you would forget how to speak for the brevity of a moment. For weeks I incessantly checked my phone for your messages I would never receive, for you would never love me. No, never in the way I was in love with you. I fell in love with the one thing that could destroy me without ever laying eyes on me. I fell in love with a face I would never see.
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 10:54 PM UTC
I speak out for the children whose homes have become warzones,
They are afraid to open their mouths in fear bullets will fire.
Shaking and hiding inside of this covering they call skin,
Words that will never be spoken are encased in a
Heart they wish would quit beating.
Words are pounding at walls created too thick to escape
Into a society that boycotts free thinking.
Children scream in alleys, never to be heard.
Children with fears louder than their screams.
Children whisper words they wish were important enough for someone to listen;
Soon they find the only one to listen will be a blank page.
Words burst the walls down of their prison hearts
And flow to the fingertips of the young bodies with the still beating hearts,
Even though they used to wish it would quit beating.
The words that escaped to the paper will be read,
And society will call it inappropriate,
And parents will call it a phase,
And friends will laugh,
And teachers will not understand,
And the children will feel alone in the only place they have ever called home.
The pens, notebooks, and fugitive words will be moved from the kitchen table
To the locked drawer of the nightstand;
Only to breathe cold night air of a sleeping home.
The children will learn to hide every thought they have ever had,
Because they are afraid of the warzone we call the world.
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 2:01 PM UTC
There is a girl you will see at 8 a.m.
Drinking her morning coffee.
She will wear flowers in her hair
And never stop smiling.
Happy.
She will be happy.
Did you know,
Only one-tenth of an iceberg can be seen.
All the rest is under the water.
Hidden.
Did you know,
This is the girl
At 8 a.m.
Happy.
Only one-tenth.
Hidden.
Because
There is a girl you will not see at 1 a.m.
Choking down her sleeping pills.
She will hold a razor blade in her hand
And never stop crying.
Sad.
She will be sad.
But you will never see sad,
For sad hides in the dresser
With the razor blades and pills.
And she will struggle to be awake at 8 a.m.,
Dissolve her pills in her morning coffee.
She will pick daisies and put them behind her ear
Because they were her mother's favorites.
And she will smile
Because she does not know what else to do.
She will force the word into her mind,
Happy.
Happy.
You will be happy.
Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 8:37 PM UTC
Her pale and cold fingers
Gripped the ends of her sweater
Tighter
Tighter
As their words ever so slowly
Tore her apart.
Later that night
Her head will drop
Slowly
Slowly
Down as she stares
At the empty bottle of pills.
She has found her way out of the labyrinth.
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 1:36 PM UTC
You are the worst kind of monster.
Not the kind that hides under the bed,
Or in the closet,
Or even in the dark.
Because you did not hide.
You lived in my neighborhood,
In the daylight.
Unsuspecting. Watching. Stalking.
You watched us for weeks,
Two ten year old girls.
Cataloged every step we took.
Ignorance and innocence blinded us from you,
And our lives were beautiful.
Until you decided to take one.
Ending. Ruining. Stealing.
When the news broke,
You hid.
But you did not hide your tracks.
And they found you.
And I was told the truth,
Shes never coming home from that walk.
You stole more than a girl that day.
You stole her innocence,
Her virginity,
And her chance to grow up.
You stole her entire life,
And that was not yours to take.
The court charged you with second degree ******
But who cares what that really means.
All I know is you will spend the rest of your life
In this cell.
At least it is better than no life at all.
Rotting. Pacing. Thinking.
There were crimes you made that day,
That you will never be charged with.
You took more than one life on
March 28th, 2006.
For you have taken my life too.
My innocence.
My happiness.
And my sanity.
And that was not yours to take.
I have not been alive since I was ten years old.
Another life you stole,
But one that you cannot be punished for.
For I am
Rotting. Pacing. Thinking.
Over that day too.
I relive those moments every day.
And what gave you the right
To take our lives?
You are the worst kind of monster.
You did not come from a horror movie,
But you do reside in my nightmares.
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 1:21 PM UTC
That day's memories are swirled in my head,
An ombre mix of anger and tears.
Gone.
You are gone.
You pulled a vanishing act in and out of my life
And suddenly I wonder if you were there at all.
I was so young,
A age where they teach you object
p-e-r-m-a-n-e-n-c-e.
But you were not permanent at all.
To tell a ten year old
Her friend is never coming home
Will tear her
a-p-a-r-t
For the rest of her life.
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 11:23 PM UTC
"How have you been?"
You asked me emptily out of habit.
To tell you the truth?
Let me think.
To tell you the truth, I stopped eating three months ago,
But you wouldn't notice that.
To tell you the truth, I'm having an affair with my manager,
But you wouldn't care about that.
To tell you the truth, I've been depressed and suicidal since you left me,
But you wouldn't want to know that.
To tell you the truth, I have empty liquor bottles laced through my apartment,
But you already know that.
To tell you the truth, I've developed a stutter from my antisocial anxiety disorder,
But you could hear that.
To tell you the truth, I've reopened those scars on my arm from when I was ten,
But you could see that.
To tell you the truth, I'm still in love with you,
But you couldn't handle that.
So I just said
Good
And avoided eye contact to avoid the chance you'll see past
My lie.
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 3:37 PM UTC
When you were five years old
And your favorite color was pink,
You wanted to be a princess,
Played with barbies in the sand,
The world was your playground,
And you didn't know how to be sad.
When you were seven years old
And your favorite color was all of them,
You wanted to be famous,
Cried when your Grandmother died,
The world was small,
And you were learning what sad was.
When you were nine years old
And your favorite color was purple,
You wanted to be a rock star,
Read ghost stories with your best friend,
The world was full of possibility,
And you never cried.
When you were ten years old
And your favorite color was black,
You wanted to be alone,
Screamed when your best friend was murdered,
The world was a scary place,
And you never stopped crying.
When you were fifteen years old
And your favorite color was blue,
You wanted to disappear,
Made scars appear on your arm,
The world was no longer happy,
And you faked not being sad.
When you were seventeen years old
And your favorite color was who gives a ****
You wanted to no longer be alive,
Stared at walls for hours at a time,
The world was your purgatory,
And you didn't know how to be happy.
When you were nineteen years old
And you no longer had a favorite,
You took a gun to your head,
Pulled the trigger,
Your world was no more,
And you felt no pain.
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 3:28 PM UTC
Wake up
Look in mirror
fat
Take off clothes
Look in mirror
why is my stomach so swollen looking??
******* hate this body*
especially my stomach
Weigh
102.3
finally
Breakfast
Strawberries
10 calories
Coffee and cream
34 calories..
too many
need energy, though
fine.
strawberries+coffee+cream= 44 calories
Weigh
102.6
**** it*
*****
Weigh
102.4
better
Go for run
burned 400 calories
Hungry
can't eat
Look in mirror
the way my fat sticks out is disgusting
Weigh
102.4
100 sit ups
burned 50 calories
200 jumping jacks
burned 70 calories
Look in mirror
why am I not thin yet
don't fade out again
Passes out
Go to doctor
Says too thin
don't lie to me
Dinner
Peach
36 calories
Energy drink
210 calories
ugh
need it desperately though
strawberries+coffee+cream+peach+energy drink= 290
Weigh
103.1
hate myself
Stare in mirror
Stare in mirror
Stare in mirror
Examine body
*****
Weigh
102.1
200 sit ups
burned 100 calories
Get dumped by boyfriend
it's probably because I'm fat
Take shower
Get out
Look in mirror
you are disgusting
Go to bed
I hate myself
REALITY
scary thin
ate too little, exercised too much
unrealistically saw herself
died two years later of a self inflicted gunshot to the head and a starved soul
note said: “I love you, but I hate myself and the fact I'll never be small enough for you”
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 11:09 PM UTC