He tells me that he is not happy with his life and I can’t help but wonder why. Why would he say such a thing to me of all people? I envy him for getting to be sad while I have to pull on a smile and play the game that he, she, them, they signed me up for. He left me in the arms of a ***** the night that I entered this unloving world, dare I ask, why? Was I not enough for him? I was a child, his child, what more could he possibly need? She sent me away to live with Papa, but why me? She kept brother. Was I not what she wanted? Daddy tells me that he didn’t mean to leave but I can’t bring my myself to believe. He says that he wants to die but I think that’s just a lie. What reason would he have to want to end his life if it wasn’t his that he ruined? It’s not like he drags the knife against his skin. He doesn’t fight the monsters from within to try and win. He doesn’t stay awake late at night thinking about the reasons why.

Locked up behind bars like a criminal; cut off from society.
It seems as though this little birdy has forgotten how to fly; for this cruel world has clipped its wings and stripped away all joy — claimed as a pet, chained to a tree, trapped in a cage for everyone to see. Leading life in solitude has become the norm, but this little birdy can't help but long for something more.

My passion is the evil sadness
Only this and a bitterness
Somewhat louder than the madness
Anxiety - anxiety - anxiety!
An echo murmured back the word, 'perplexity!'
The pedophobia penalty panicking
Quoth the appetite, 'Mind the complexity!'
I crave the wrong, worth wistfulness
Desolation - desolation - desolation!
The expectation laughed
Civilization, civilization!
Motivation, motivation!
That boring inspiration - that boring inspiration
My mind always strays to anticipations
In there stepped a barry 'aloneness'
The breathing smiled
I was a lifelessness and you a skittishness
Somewhat louder than the love child
It was profiled, wild, exiled!
And its eyes have all the regretting
What could be more purely addicting? The mourning never forgetting
And the breather never constricting.

How can this possibly be considered living?
If all I ever really do is hide in constant fear.
When the only thing I hear are these voices inside my head.
I'm much like a puppet confined by strings, but is my life really defined by these things. It's like I'm stuck in this world, in which I simply do not belong. A world oh so bleak and monochromatic and full of hatred. This is a place where the scenery is dramatic and the people are melting plastic. A play crumbling apart behind the scenes, a family tumbling down under intense pressure, or a shattered heart stumbling upon the scattered shards.

I build my walls up high so that I can hide behind them and hopefully you can never reach inside again. These walls of mine are thick and strong unlike my skin, which is weak and thin. Skin that is so easily torn apart. Covered from top to bottom with marks of many. A collection of cuts, bruises, burns, and scars. As I start to drag the welcoming and comforting blade; burning flame across my already tainted body I will realize that I'm not a canvas made for this type of art, nor am I cat with nine lives. Each mark brings me one breath; step closer to my very last. Those lovely forms of art, do you see them? Yeah, the ones that are dressing my body with pink lines. Every single one of them was a different failed attempt to cry for help.  One line alone is equal to that of a thousand battles that they win and I lose. Nobody cares about how much pain that I am in, and that's fine because I don't care either. I will eventually meet my end and leave this cruel world in vain.

I can't do this anymore. I've hit rock bottom many times before.  At that point I was ready to give up, but I worked so hard to get well, regain my strength and crawl straight out of my own personal hell. But once again I fell; I had thought I was past this. My life was much less horrific than it once was. The truth is that all good things must come to an end eventually. However this may be true, but I still can't believe that I am right back at the beginning when all I want to do is just finish. I am nothing but a shell of who I used to be, all because I let the demons inside of me. I've fallen into an endless dark hole of anxiety; I've sunken into an everlasting pool of depression. This seemingly worthless life of mine continues on, and I just keep falling farther and farther down this hole; Sinking deeper and deeper into this pool. What a fool I really am to have  believed that I could ever deserve the feeling of true happiness. Yeah I'm a tool that everyone uses to get what they want. I feel so overwhelmingly numb yet at the same time it's like everything  is coming at me all at once and I cant take it. I'm smiling so the people around me don't ask questions, I'm lying when they ask me questions so they don't feel the need to ask more questions, and at one point I was actually trying because I didn't want anyone to feel hurt, but now I'm dying inside and I can not hide behind these smiles full of little white lies.

It has been going on for far to long. "Yeah, yeah just hold on tight."
"Everything will be alright." But they were oh so very wrong. Everywhere I go I hear these voices inside my head, they always seem to make me wish that I was dead. I have lived my life in fear, everyday for years. At night I kick and scream as silent tears began to stream down my face at a rapid pace. I feel like I don't belong. Every single day of my pathetic little life is a fight. Why is everyone so blind to the truth when life is not kind. I have tried and failed to find the light and how this world could ever be bright. I am loosing sight. You may think that I am happy, but to be honest I am dying inside. I can not hide my feelings anymore. I'm in to much pain and this awful world is in vain.

Here I am once again. Left to fight a war, a war from within down deep beneath the skin. This war is unlike no other, I am at war with a horrible monster. Who is this horrible monster you may ask. Well it's not that simple you see, the horrible monster is me...

Do you love me or not?
I must know if it is I that you want the most.
Does thinking of me set your heart ablaze?
When you look at me, what is it that you see?
Tell me honestly, please.
Am I yet another faze?
Once we part our separate ways,
will you remember the good old days?
Or shall they be forgot; for in your sweet thoughts,
I no longer remain?
If by chance we meet again,
would you bother to utter my name or even spare a moment of your time to look my way?
Would you walk right by when I try to say "Hi."
only to embrace the one you truly love; chose over me.
The mere thought of losing you brings tears to my eyes;
for the loss of you, my dear is my greatest fear.

I have tried for so long, to be a little strong. Oh yes a little bit stronger. I feel as if I just simply do not belong, and when I am alone at home I listen to a song. It all gets better, but soon after I get silent my mind gets violent. That's when I realize that I cannot fear death any longer... Because the fear of living is far more worse. I fear living cause I'm living in pain and Suicide seems like the only option, well at least the best decision that I could ever make, but that is the path I'm trying not to take....

My mind is full of thoughts, oh so many thoughts, some of which I want to forget and others I just don't want to believe are true. My mind is like a never ending ocean, and I am lost out at sea. Hope, oh yes I hope that one day someone will save me. Save me from what you might ask. Well it isn't so simple. However, it is painfully obvious and nobody ever notices that I am at war with my demons, well to be more precise I am at a constant war with myself. I feel as if I have stones tied around my ankles, pulling at me from just under the surface. It's like quicksand the more you struggle the quicker you will sink, and there is nothing you can do to prevent this from happening. I have tried over and over again to reach out for someone like me. For some reason I can never really get a good grasp on reality, and as this continues I gasp for air as I struggle to maintain what little remaining shards and fragments of my sanity I have left. Finally I realized, what is the point in living if all I ever do is suffer in silent pain? I can't keep on like this, my limbs ache, my heart is shattered and scattered across the ground, I can barely make a sound, lying here waiting to be found, I am soul bound and my lungs burn. But I must not wait for you to turn your ways while I count my final days. So when I am dying I better not catch you crying because no one cared when I was actually trying, you know when I was smiling and lying. Was the truth really that blinding to you, or was I  just so unimportant that you couldn't even be bothered with me?

Don't you know that she cares?
There's a lot going on upstairs.
In case you couldn't tell upstairs is her mind and it's crammed full... overflowing... spilling off the edge.
She's standing on a ledge.
It's not fair!
The tic of the clock leaves no time to stop....Leave her be when she says please.
Time is a necessity to leading a healthy life, but can't you see she's struggling to be free; for you have the blade of the sharpest knife against her throat.
The boat has tipped once again now it's all about whether or not she will sink or swim; for she is no longer afloat.