My heart is shattered.
Everything inside of me is violently churning and I, I am not ok.
I want to die, but I've had to many bouts of suicide that I'm afraid of the fear and how cold and lonely it is when you try.
I wish I succeeded, but it didn't.
And now I wish someone would just shoot me or wreck me in my car, but it's hard to ask someone to **** you.
Funny when you don't want to die, the worst happens.
But when you do, no one will put you out of your misery.
I start college again in 2 weeks, I dropped out last fall.
Now I have a packed suitcase and I plan to get a visa and leave the country,
I don't want to come back.
This life here is too painful,
And every sense is magnified. Sound, smell, touch, sight.
The smell of whiskey when I bite an apple.
The sound of highway sirens like when they came for me.
The sting of blood when I prepare dinner with a knife.
The sight of tall buildings where I once sat but couldn’t find the courage to jump down.
Maybe I should leave everything behind and get out of here.
If I want to die so badly, maybe I should live a little first.
Though I don't think someone will **** me no matter where I go.
Because they know life is too precious,
I just wish I felt the same.
Jan 6, 2020
Jan 6, 2020 at 11:54 AM UTC
I can’t believe I’m back here.
I genuinely thought I was done with this.
I remember the first night I sat on the floor with a glistening blade in my hand,
I turned it back and forth,
It looked so new and unused
Just like I once did.
But soon it was covered in blood
And slipped from my hand.
I stared at myself in the mirror with tears rolling down my face,
Trying to convince myself there was another way.
Was there really no other option?
There was… one.
I felt bad for mutilating myself.
But honestly,
I’d do it again.
I wish I could.
I know it sounds silly to an outsider.
It sounds dumb and confusing and insane, actually.
Not one person I’ve told has understood.
People say they get it, but if they wouldn’t do it themselves, they do not get it.
These tears come out like acid
But get reabsorbed
And corrode everything inside of me.
This whirlwind of insanity leaves me paralyzed yet running at the speed of light in every direction crashing into everything that has ever hurt me all at once ripping every fragile piece of me to shreds and leaving nothing salvageable to remain.
So,
A different kind of salt water pours out
Crying for my helpless heart
Instead of my hurting heart.
And the stupid thing is,
This isn’t normal at all.
It doesn’t matter if it was a person or a thing or a hope or a dream. It is what it is and the pain is unavoidable!
How do they handle it so well?
Maybe I’m just inadequate in the strength it takes to deal with your own emotions.
Because most people don’t jump to this
Or fantasize about quitting
They **** it up. Move on with life.
Grow. Challenge. Change.
But truth is
I’m so hopeless.
I’m done with school
I’ve given up on the career I thought I wanted
The life I thought I wanted
I don’t want my friends
I don’t want my family
I don’t want my job
I don’t want my city
I don’t want my country
Hell I don’t even want this world sometimes.
I can’t sit here and pretend everything is okay.
Every day I wake up and focus on what's in front of me
But I’m still living with this internal countdown
This clock that won’t reveal its hour
But reminds me it’s just a matter of time
Till the batteries stop moving the hands.
Please
Stop telling me I’m fine.
There seems to only be a certain anecdote
To make the sun stay
But it’s just one bottle
And I guzzled it so fast
I didn’t have any time to enjoy it before it passed.
I really think I need some type of fix.
They know the cure to cancer..
But they won’t let the patients have it.
So they drug ‘em up instead,
If thats the case,
Now it’s my turn.
I’ll need something strong
To fix all the **** wrong in my brain
That nothing else will heal
So hopefully I can make it to another country
Instead of the bottom of the Pacific
Cause I’ll tell ya what
I can’t do it here.
There are no amount of beach days or Sundays or fun things to get me through this now.
So what pill should I take?
The ***** on the shelf is waiting.
Sep 14, 2019
Sep 14, 2019 at 9:15 AM UTC
6 muffins down
Binging is my new toy
Sliced butter
Guess it’s better than
Sliced skin
Aug 16, 2019
Aug 16, 2019 at 3:19 PM UTC
It sits in my stomach like a pile of rocks,
chases the beats of my heart until it feels like it might stop,
electrocutes my blood and shoots lightning through my bones,
pours gunpowder on my lungs after a shot right to the chest,
and inside my shaking limbs
and numbing skin,
my insides are spinning,
an earthquake has just begun.
It grips me
tighter than my hands clasped together,
every muscle straining, every fiber tensed,
and waits,
sharper than teeth clenching on the flesh of what’s left of my humanity,
it waits,
to tear me apart.
In public spaces,
the crowds and faces
squeeze the life out of me.
Watered-down pain,
my teeth make an appearance,
the forced laugh exhales deeply but fails to inhale again.
Its bubbling up, it wants to escape
I don't know how long I can hold it
I'm not that strong
I want control over it
But it consumes me.
I count to three
tell myself I’m okay
“You’re fine
You’re fine
You’re fine”
Still, I can barely breathe.
My eyes I cannot tame,
I hold them back but they betray me,
So I swallow all I can,
engulfing my energy
until I’m able to leave.
In the quiet
I sink in my pillow,
Like a ship at sea caught in a storm,
Filling with rain.
My hand grips over my mouth
I’m quieter than a mouse
The windows are open and crickets are chirping,
and my head tries to disassemble the bomb
alleviate the pressure
of silent breathless screams,
before it explodes.
After the war
My eyes are ****** and burn
and I curl up in a ball
wrap myself tight
let the fan that swirls slower than my pain
dry my eyes
steady my shaking
remind me to take in the air it circulates
when I stop breathing,
when I’m limp and weak and still,
It whispers “shhh”
and lullabies me to sleep.
The sleep won’t last
and I jolt awake with nausea so strong
stomach still churning
head still spinning
chest still hosting a circus
but I am still curled up
the fan still singing.
It rains a little more
until I drift under
to be reminded again the next hour.
Sometimes I think
how peaceful it would be
to have that powerful silence:
my cells would stop dividing
brain would stop lying
I would stop denying
all the pain that has been caused
this is just a reckless fantasy
a way to elude one’s own reality
so I choose not the silence of rest
but the silence of war.
I will keep fighting my war
so no war is created
because of me.
Aug 12, 2019
Aug 12, 2019 at 5:28 PM UTC
Closed blinds
And morning breeze
I don’t want to leave here.
The sun beckons me to rise
Demanding an awakening
But I am not there yet,
Heart still heavy
From carrying grief
Eyes still burning
From drowning in acidic tears
Lungs still weak from suffocating between each breath
Throat still coarse from the cry of
“Abba please, take my life.”
If I rise,
I am sure to face it again.
And it will have its way
With my body,
Screaming and crying a horrific noise,
Falling to the floor as everything inside of me seems to shatter,
Like broken glass being crushed
all over again.
And I will wait there
Curled on the floor
Until it is done leaving its mark.
Then I will stand up
To finish the routine
Wash my face
Put on a smile
And move on with the day.
Heaviness used to find me at night
But now I arise and find
It is in my bones
And under my skin
With me every place I go.
So I would rather lay here
Silent and broken,
Defeated and unarmed
Surrendered to these bed sheets
And white walls
Than to face the fight
Against the darkness
That kills me piece by piece.
For there may come a day
When there is nothing left it can take,
And it will have all of me.
So there will be no fight today
As if being paralyzed was a choice
Under the weight of a pain
So heavy.
So I let it stay
And roll to the other side,
Away from the light
Pull the covers a little closer
Take another deep breath
Close my eyes
And wait for tomorrow.
Aug 12, 2019
Aug 12, 2019 at 5:26 PM UTC
There’s a storm behind my eyelids
Threatening to pour,
But I wear a smile like a cement roof
Sheltering those closest from my rain
While tables and chairs
In this rickety house
Are worn by all of the dust
Of visitors who were never let in.
There is one who sits by the entrance
Waiting for an intruder
To kick down the door
As tears collect on the hardwood floor
And the closet broom feels
A thousand miles away.
Aug 12, 2019
Aug 12, 2019 at 1:30 PM UTC
Like a loose thread on my favorite sweater,
I couldn’t resist pulling.
My heart pounded as I held the stitching in my hand
But knowing it could unravel all around me
I grabbed the sheers
That found their way into my right side pocket
Used too often
Sharpened by cutting grief
And clipped the string
Saving my words for another day.
Aug 12, 2019
Aug 12, 2019 at 1:29 PM UTC