My heart drops the world stops. Why do I feel this way? All i can say is that I've been trying to narrow down the why's my whole life. After awhile I resorted to unhealthy coping skills. Its like I'm living life running up steep hills, but yet their slippery and wet. My whole life I made a bet I wouldn't make it to 16. Now here I am going to be 17 in 4 months. The thing is I've spent the last 7 months in residential and a psych ward. I just got home and yet I feel so alone. The stonewalls still up in my mind the voice behind me consuming my head the memories of residential stain in my brain. So i just lay in bed Night and Day to keep the voices away, but hey? I wasn't suppose to be Alive this long anyway.

My heart goes to the people out their,
                                                            who write their pain on their skin.
This goes out to the addicts,
                                                 The people who starve to be pretty.
This goes out to the victims,
                                                 Who need to hear that it isn't their fault it never was and never will be.

I write my pain on my body,
                                               Reopen the scars of the past,
                              It hurts to think, breath, write, wake up.
                                       Why does it hurt??
           Please god make it stop,
I'm begging you
                            I can grind the glass to my face erase my eyes,
                                        Eat the glass and disappear from the inside,
                                                    But,
­It all feels like home,
                                   Cutting is,
My security blanket,
                                   And their trying to, take it away from me.
                                    Their sending me away.
          Why?
I need to cut myself they can't take it from me.
               I NEED it.

Seeing My Dad Struggle

Growing up my dad always had problems. That's the main reason I'm not in his custody.
Recently Something went down, it was a dark day in February. My grandma and I had to
fill up on gas at Marathon. We had seen an ambulance at Menards. It didn't really dawn on us but I jokingly said “watch it be my dad”. We drove home. I have always loved
Driving home and looking outside the window is beautiful. When we get home we let our
dog out. I carried in firewood, and fed the deer. When I got inside I relaxed and suddenly
my grandma got a call that it was my dad. I thought “oh god what is it now”. My grandma
said we needed to hurry back to town. My dad was in the hospital. When we walked into the hospital my heart was racing, and thoughts ran through my head “I hope he’s okay”. My grandma asked “is Joseph Powell here?” the nurse nodded and we went to his room. When I walked in I instantly felt a lump in my throat, I wanted to cry. I saw my dad lying there staring at the ceiling, his whole body was shaking uncontrollably and his blood pressure was near 200. He apologized to me saying he never wanted me to see him like that. He would start puking in a bag. The room smelled like alcohol, cigarettes and it had that hospital smell. His voice was shaky and it made my eyes start to tear up, I knew I had to stay strong for him. The nurses were working hard finding him a detox. They finally found one and they were going to keep him there until a treatment bed opened up in the state. All that ran through my head was “Why does god let addiction happen” I felt like puking, I just wanted my funny, kind, outgoing dad again. Why did he have to fall victim to addiction? When they transferred him over he always called constantly. Years of dealing with my dads addiction I finally figured out that even when I went through treatment and withdrawal that you can't change someone who doesn't want to change, no matter how hard you try they need to change for themselves. All that trauma I went through wasn't my fault and in that moment seeing my dad I finally realized that. Like a quote from ‘beautiful boy’ says “If you could take all the words in the English language, it still wouldn't describe how much I love you.” Love won’t fix an addict unless they want to be fixed. My dad is currently 17 days sober and in detox.