A victim becomes violated
Does not matter how
It feels like every room in their
house has been broken into
We pay too much attention to
Who did this or even why
Passing blame on this or that
We lose focus...
We forget about that person
Living inside the house

It's like I am a trash can,

That everyone dumps all of their emotional garbage into.

But I never get emptied.

I was strong.

I was strong when my preschool teacher told me that I was never going to be an artist because I wasn't talented enough.

I was strong when I told my first crush that I liked him and he told me he would never like someone like me because I was fat and ugly.

I was strong as I was bullied severely for 6 years in elementary school.

I was strong when a kid wrapped swing chains around my neck and tried to choke me.

I was strong when I was told by the school counselor that no one would ever want to be my friend in middle school.

I was strong when on the first day of junior high I was pushed off of the risers and onto the floor by fellow classmates.

I was strong when my parents got a divorce.

I was strong when I had my first panic attack.

I was strong after I attempted suicide.

I was strong when I was officially diagnosed with anxiety and depression.

I was strong when my father kicked me out.

I was strong when my brother beat me in my car.

I was strong when I had to act as hospice care for one of my grandfathers.

I was strong when my grandfathers died.

I was strong when my dad's wife tried to convince me that I was worthless and unworthy of love.

I was strong when my entire family abandoned me fight over only my brother in a custody battle.

I was strong when I failed my first class ever and almost lost all of my scholarships.

I was strong when my mom told me "whatever" when she was mad and I talked about killing myself.

I was strong when I wanted to drop out of college and relapse into my suicidal thoughts.

If I can be strong through all of that, I can be strong again.

I am strong.

Even if I don't always feel that way.

I'm a rambler.
When I talk about what's on my mind, it's like I can't stop sometimes.
And even when my mouth stops, my mind doesn't.
I'm always thinking about something, and there are very few rare moments when I'm not.

My mind also likes to jump from one thing to the next, so sometimes what I think and say are completely out of order.
This makes retelling of stories difficult at times, and it also makes writing down thoughts very difficult as well.

I have been trying to be better about sticking to things, such as writing poems and writing down things that have happened to me as recollections of a time I may forget one day.

I think I worry too much though.
I worry too much about if I will be relaying my message the way that I want it to be perceived.
I want to make sure that I make sense to others and not just myself, and that I am perceived that way.

There is that **** anxiety again.

One of my therapists once old me that it would be good for me to stick to a routine and have a foundation to stand on in my life.
The funny thing was that I always feel like It's impossible for me to have that foundation, and I also don't necessarily make it easy for myself either.

It's very rare that I finish something completely that I started solely for myself.
It's also very rare that I feel whole heartedly confident in something I'm doing, even if I appear to have the confidence thing down on the outside.

And I guess that's what life is really.
It's just twists and turns that you do or don't see coming, and you have to figure out how to handle them for yourself.

So I'm trying to be better.
I'm going to keep going with this.
I may not be consistent now, but in the long hall, I believe I can do it.

I can finally have a concrete foundation that will stay firm for me.

I will stick to it.

The rain can wash away many things.

You let the lies pour out of you
Like the rain pours from the sky
And each droplet burns more than the last.

The rain can wash away many things.

Your hail stings like falling knives
Landing straight into someones back
And with every blow
Someone crashes straight into the ground.

The rain can wash away many things.

We become the screeching winds
Pushing and pulling against you
Hoping that one day our screams will reach your ears.

The rain can wash away many things.

But the rain cant wash away the memories left behind of all that you have done, and all that we have seen.

So don't always count on the rain.