Stay humble my friend.
For you won't be here one day.
And although you think you might have left a legacy,
In due time it too will fade with you.
You want to be remembered as someone who
Was kind.
Loving.
Respectful.
Helpful.
Friendly.
And above all humble.
So take the compliments nicely.
Try to always be kind.
And try to be forgiving.
Although I know it can sometimes be hard.
Help others.
Stand up for one another.
Because those are the true legacies that impact lives.
Not just some material thing that will fade faster than you think.

Why can't you just leave me alone and let me feel safe for once in my life?

Such a beautiful word.
But it is also
Destructive,
Deceitful,
Uncontrollable,
Unpredictable,
And scary.
So simple yet so complex.

I was asked what love, to me, means.

Love, to me, means:

Never feeling alone. When you are with them, or when you are apart.

You want to know everything and anything about them. You want to hear their stories and darkest secrets, and keep them for only you and them to share.

Nothing that pops into your head is not heard by them. They understand. And even if they don't completely understand, it's okay. You know that everything is safe with them. You can confide in them.

To you, they feel like home, your safe place, and an adventure all in one.

You never want them to feel alone or scared, or sad. You wish they could always feel loved.

You want them to always be happy. Whether it is with you, or someone else.

To see them smile.

You feel whole.

This is what love means to me.

This vessel is broken.
This vessel is achy.
This vessel is hurting.
This vessel is rotting from the inside out.
This vessel is braving harsh waves.

This vessel isn't the prettiest.
This vessel isn't the smoothest ride.
This vessel wants to be better.
This vessel wants to be accepted for what it is.

This vessel will try to take the hits as much as it can.
This vessel will try to keep itself going.

This vessel won't give up.

I remember,

When I was 4 or 5 and we went into the garden of giant sunflowers in our front yard, and me and my brother wore over sized t-shirts and let hundreds of lady bugs crawl all over us as we laughed and giggled with mom.

When me and my brother took pictures for our family photos in the hallway and we got all dressed up for the first time and we hugged and connected for the first time.

When we visited grandpas house and he watched us play the piano badly while we had a tea party with chocolate milk.

When in preschool I was put into an art class with the older children who picked on me, and eventually I hid under a table and cried for my mother to come get me, resulting in me getting kicked out of that preschool because I bit the teachers hand after she called me a ridiculous idiot and tried to grab me from under the table.

When I was in kindergarten and all the other kids played with construction work toys as I asked the teacher if I could color instead. She forced me to play with the other children as they threw fake plastic rocks in my face.

When I was put into another art class with older kids where none of them accepted me and I was screamed at and kicked out by the teacher after one class because I colored a face on a person orange, since I had no skin colored crayons or pencils.

When I sat on the playground alone and had children make rumors all around me about me as a teacher tried to force the other kids to play with me.

When a boy thought I liked him and decided to come up to me, in class, in front of everyone and make it apparent that he never did, and never would like me because he thought I was ugly and fat, and the class agreed.

When one of the teachers told me that I would never amount to anything in my life because I could not pass one of my math tests. She then proceeded to show me her "golden paper clip" and tell me that I was worth nothing and would never have the honor of earning that award.

When I tried to stand up for myself for once by telling one of the girls who bullied me that I didn't like what she said to me, and she found me one day waiting for my mom to come pick me up after school, as i sat on the swing set. She brought her older cousin who twisted me in the swing so that the chains wrapped around my neck and I could barely breathe. He told me if I ever said something like that to his little cousin again, he would **** me.

When I won a talent show for the first time in my life, and I felt so good about myself, until a girl came up to me with a small group of her friends and kicked me to the ground, saying I didn't deserve it.

When I was forced to run in a track meet or my school and I vomited after running as a lot of angry families told me how worthless I was because I came in last.

When I transferred schools and nothing changed. I still had no friends and everyone made fun of me behind my back, and a few times, to my face.

When I made actual friends for the first time and I felt accepted.

When on of those "friends" told me that I was a sinner because I don't believe in god, and she tried to force me to read a bible she brought to school for me everyday.

When I was called into the counselors office for getting in a fight in class with a girl and her friend after they called me a b----. The counselor made me out to be the bad guy for standing up for myself.

When a teacher pulled me aside and told me that I smelled like crap and she thought that's why children didn't like me, but when I asked my friends, they said she smells, not me, and that she has tried to pass it off onto other children before too, saying the same thing she said to me.

When I auditioned for choir in Junior High and all the other girls told me that I would never make it in, because I was a fat girl who couldn't sing, and no one wanted to hear or see that.

When I had my first day of Honor Choir in Junior High, and all the girls didn't think it was right that I made it in, so they pushed me off the top of the risers and onto the floor while telling me that I was an idiot who didn't know what they were doing, and laughing at me.

When I actually won a singing competition for our school and got praised by my choir teacher.

When my mom sat in the car with me crying and telling me that her and dad were getting a divorce and that she wanted me to live with my dad and make sure he was okay.

When my brother got in a big fight with me and hit me for the first time.

When I moved to the new house with my father and my mom called me, crying one night because she thought I liked my dad better than her.

When my dad told me that I was a worthless human being because I was having a panic attack at midnight in our living room.

When my dad slapped me across the face for having another panic attack in front of him and his girlfriend.

When my dad woke me up in the middle of the night and started screaming at me to get the hell up and pack my bags because he was taking me to my mothers house. I went in crying my eyes out and as I hugged by my mother and brother.

When my dads wife started fighting with me and my mother, threatening our lives as they tried to get custody of my brother and said she would never want me in their house ever again. She continues to bully me.

When I broke down on the side of the road in my car with my brother and started to have a panic attack. My brother screamed at me to shut the hell up and I considered running into the road and getting hit by a car to end it all.

When my mom almost killed herself by taking to many pills when she was sad and I had to watch her until she finally fell asleep in bed and I almost missed school the next day because I was so worried about her.

I remember. You might pretend to forget or act like it never happened, but I won't forget. Ever.

You're angry with me.
Why?
I try so hard not to make people angry with me.
Then other times I absolutely could not care how you feel about me.
But, later I will regret it.
I know I will.
Only one person has ever made me not regret my anger at them over time.
As for everyone else,
Even a stranger,
One act of anger towards me and I will think about it for a long time.
I feel an unimaginable amount of guilt.
I feel unhappy.
I feel afraid.
I feel responsible.
I feel regretful.
Please don't be angry at me.
Please.
I wish I didn't care...

I realized today that I don't have anyone who I call my "best friend".
I sometimes think that I have one.
But then I tell them and I can tell by their response usually if it's real
Or not.

I told a boy once that he was my best friend.
It was honestly nothing more than friendship with us.
He said, "You're mine too."
The way that he said it though...
It was so monotone.
Like he told me just to make it less awkward.

I told a girl once that she was my best friend.
She said "You're mine too."
She never showed it though.
She never listened to me.
Answered me back.
Or seemed to care about me unless it included her or it was drama filled gossip about someone's life.

I once told another girl that she was my best friend.
She didn't answer me back.
She stopped talking to me and we grew apart.

The hard thing about "best friends", is that you each have to feel the same way about each other.

I have even had people say I was their best friend.
I never felt the same though.
I always said "Awh, thank you."
Then they would leave me.
Like everyone else.

I thought I should be my own best friend once.
But like I said,
You have to have a mutual love for each other.
And to be honest...
I don't like myself a lot of the time.

So I wonder.
If I wasn't stuck with myself,
Would I leave me too?

Maybe on another day

If you had asked in a different way

I might have felt that I had to stay

And our stories could have ended differently.

I hyperventilate when I walk into a store or restaurant alone because I feel like I look like that fat lonely girl who got stood up.

I get lonely at midnight and panic that no one truly likes me and that I have never actually had a best friend.

I feel like a burden to anyone who is my friend and spend all my money on gifts for them to reaffirm that I am not a waste of space in their lives.

I always feel like I am being watched and that people are judging me every moment of the day.

I never tell someone how I really feel because I am afraid that when I am not happy, no one will like me, therefore no one has seen the real me and its entirety.

I feel weak when I cry and hide myself away from people so that no one will know I have an unhappy emotion.

I give 110% into making people in my life happier than I am because I am afraid they will leave me and it drains me so much that I feel numb when I am alone.

I never tell people of my past because I don't want pity from them or for them to worry and I find it exausting to reaffirm that I am not sad, even though I am.

I never tell my friends that I have depression and severe anxiety because in the past people have disregarded it and not taken me seriously.

I put up this wall for myself that makes me on red alert 24/7 and its like I am always running and never allowed to walk.

I feel like I am always sleeping with my eyes wide open and I wish that I could wake up.

Why would you call me,
When you have so many other people to choose from?

Why would you want to hang around with me,
When you have other things you could be doing?

Why do you want to know what i'm doing,
When my answer is always the same?

Why do you want to make plans with me,
When all I do is stand off and away from everyone else?

Why choose me?

But I know I will always choose you too.

So thank you.

I want to make art.

I want to pour my heart and soul out onto paper and let the ink be like the blood flowing through my veins that keeps me feeling alive.

I want to make things that are new versions of old cliches that reignite a spark in my thoughts.

I want my screams that can chill bones to be heard through my silence and seen through my eyes.

I want my body to tense and my hairs to stand up while I slowly realize that goosebumps are forming on my skin because I didn't know I was capable of something.

I want tears to stop flowing from my eyes and instead flow from my mouth so that I can let the emotions come pouring out into someone else's ears.

I want to paint.
I want to dance.
I want to sing.
I want to draw.
I want to take pictures.
I want to really make music.
I want to write poetry.
I want to have late night talks.
I want to see into someone else's eyes.
I want to listen.
I want to learn.
I want to grow.

I
Want
To
Be
Art
.

I tell myself over and over again:

I am loved.
I am beautiful.
I feel good.
I can do this.
No one can make me do anything.
I am a good person.
Everything is only temporary.
I'll be okay.
I have people who want me.
My weight does not define me.
My appearance does not define me.
My grades do not define me.
Others opinions do not define me.
I am unique.
I don't need toxic people in my life.
It's okay to cut myself off from them, no matter how attached I may be.
It's okay not to always feel like myself.
I shouldn't care who likes me or who doesn't.
All that matters is that I like me.

I will keep telling myself these things over and over again until I have them drilled into my skull and I finally believe all of them.

**I will.

I was diagnosed officially with depression and general anxiety disorder last year.

I saw three girls say on social media say today that they were "depressed" because their mom forgot to buy them their favorite cereal.
Because their new iphone wasn't the color that they wanted.
Because their toenails color didn't match their fingernails color.

I take pills so that I don't have a bad movie playing over and over and over again in my head all day. I don't like taking them, but if I don't, I'm afraid of what will happen.

Sometimes I become so sad that all I can do is lay on the bed and stare at the wall, thinking nothing, because I feel like I am in a dark hole that is impossible for me to get myself out of.

I'm afraid all the time of the inevitable doom that I feel.

You're mocking me.
You will never understand.
This is not something that you should make into a trending hashtag on social media and then use to not talk about the real problems we face, but to talk about petty problems in your lives.

I am suffering, and all you can think about is how "depressed" you are that your parent(s) won't buy you that new pair of boots.

I don't understand...

I wash off the makeup
I see the acne, scars, and freckles
Peaking through my red and irritated skin.

I remember where each scar came from.
When I got my cheek scraped by a fence.
When I had swing chains wrapped around my neck.
When I tried to hug a feral cat.

I think about how someone once told me
That every freckle stands for a reincarnated life in my body.
I wonder how their lives differed from mine.
I wonder if other people have also told this body what I have heard.

I think about how someone else told me
That every freckle stands for an angel that kissed me
In the "beyond" before I was born.

If the angel kisses did happen, I want to thank them everyday for Watching over me, because sometimes I really need it.

I hope I get to meet them.

The sky is dark, but I can see the stars.

I live somewhere where I'm lucky enough to be able to see all these stars every night.

I'm laying in a hammock, and the air is cold.

Not cold enough that I'm freezing, but just enough that I'm not comfortable.

I look down at the lit up screen in my hands.

I listen to the song playing.

It's a soulful song one of my friends wrote and recorded with a couple other friends of mine.

I open up my text messages.

I read the part where I said, "Goodnight. I love you."

And I sigh.

I listen to the crickets chirping. The frogs croaking. The dogs barking. The peacocks cooing.

You just said goodnight.

And I didn't tell you I love you because I'm romantically attracted to you.

I told you I love you because I love you as a friend and I feel so deeply for the people I love.

But here we are.

You fell asleep, and I'm here, wide awake.

I'm wondering when the universe will decide that I'm worthy of the gift of love.

I've spent a long time now thinking about how I need to love myself and respect myself more. About how I need to work harder to achieve this goal of mine to finally be fully happy with myself and the way I am. I of course have my down moments like everyone else, the days when: you think someone would never like you or want to date you solely because of your size, you feel like the world stares at you in repulsion, you get on a diet kick that doesn't seem to work and everyone just keeps saying that you aren't trying hard enough, someone takes the opportunity to pick on your weight just because they know you are insecure about it and you are having a fight with them, people refuse to partner with you for anything and you blame your looks, you are never anyone's' first choice, or sometimes even the second or third choice, you are dead last, a store doesn't carry your size but your friends, even with good intentions, try to make you try things on and you don't want to tell them that nothing here will fit you, you might even make up an excuse, or when someone so tiny compared to you, talks about how fat they are, and you think, "what does that make me?" But then you have your up days, where: You feel cute with how you look and comfortable in what you're wearing, you find something you love in your size, you eat a good meal and don't feel bad about it, you sit down somewhere and feel comfortable enough with who you are around that you can eat and drink and do what you want to do with no judgement, a random stranger compliments you, you win an argument without stooping to the level of picking on someones looks or weight, you find someone who accepts you for you. Those good days should out way the bad, but some days one bad time can ruin a whole weeks worth of good things for you, and that's ridiculous. So please be kind to others, and yourself. For the fact is, you know how it feels, even if it has only happened to you once, to feel alone and bad about the beautiful body you are in. I'm working towards loving myself more and accepting the things I have been given to live with. I hope this journey leads me to a brighter path and a better future, and I know I am worth more than my weight and the way I look. So take me as I am, or don't bother with me at all, because you are not worth my time of day.

Today I sat in my car.
Holding back the tears.
Why did I want to cry?
Why didn't I know why I wanted to cry?
Why didn't I just do it?
Why was I holding back?
No one was around.
I was alone in my car.
With the radio blaring.
Just letting the noise run right through me.
Like vacant noise.

Hello.

I have depression.
Some days are really hard, and other days are a bit easier for me to control how I am feeling.
This does not mean than I will make everything sad in my life all the time and I will be a buzzkill in a friend group.
This does not mean than I think about hurting myself every moment of the day.

I have anxiety.
Some situations are harder for me to be in and it takes extra effort for me to motivate myself not to be scared of irrational things sometimes.
This does not mean that I never leave my home.
This does not mean that I have no friends because I am afraid of what people think.

I have ocd.
Mine is a form where I like things a certain way and attach feelings to things that do not matter sometimes.
This does not mean that I am a "neat freak".
This does not mean that I am a "hoarder".

I am going to counseling for these.
I enjoy talking to a professional that will be confidential about my problems.
This does not mean that I am not strong because I seeked out help.
It does not mean that I am a psychotic maniac.

I don't like taking medication for my symptoms.
I personally don't remember to take them all the time and I am in a place where I can control my feelings and thoughts moderately each day.
This does not mean that other people who take medication are worse or better than me.
This does not mean that I am not really trying to get better.

Every situation is tailored to an individual, and Everyone is fighting their own battles how they feel they can.

I love you so much. You always made my day brighter. We would go on walks together and look at the neighbors tomato plants, you would watch me and my brother roll in the grass, you would play with us and our toys, you always laughed and joked with us, and you were so sweet as you snuck us some cookies after dinner. I loved when I had time to call you. I loved hearing your voice. Even if it took you a bit to process whatever I said, I still loved you so. You meant the world to me. I wish I had more time than I did to call you and talk to you or come visit and bring you gifts. I always brought you chocolate on your birthday, because it was your favorite sweet treat to eat. I loved reading all your cards out loud to you for Christmas, your birthday, or any other occasion. I loved looking at all your old coins that you collected with you. I loved listening to you talk about them because your eyes and your voice would light up with enthusiasm and knowledge. I think you saw in my eyes too that I was listening, but maybe not getting it all, but that was okay, because you still loved to talk about it and I loved listening to your sweet and gravel like voice. I'm sorry. Sorry I didn't come see you more or make more time for you. I would read this to you, but you wouldn't even know I was there. So since I can't come say goodbye. I'm doing it now. In spirit I hope you hear it when I read it for you now. I'll sing for you too, since you loved to hear my voice. I will find a way through my tear covered and glossy eyes to picture you here with me. Hugging me. Holding me. I love you. I always did and always will. I hope you're happier soon. So this is goodbye, grandpa. I'll always remember you as mine. Forever and always. Goodbye. I love you.

I have been looking for something for a while now.

Something hidden.
Something happy.
Something lovely.

Something that will make me want to get up every day.
Something that will make me look forward to what's next.
Some thing that only I can find for myself.

So where do I begun to look?

Inside myself.

And I encourage you to do the same.

When did my life become all about other people?
Instead of focusing on myself,
I focus on others and what's going on in their lives.

There is a fine line between caring about others,
And mothering others.
I think I've crossed the line.

Even when I go to counseling,
All we talk about is how I can't change people.
I can't be responsible for people.
I can't always help everyone.

All we talk about is others problems and why they might act a certain way towards me.
Not really how I can block them out or anything.

I'm tired of being angry and sad and scared everyday of my life
And everyone just acts like it's nothing.
Like I need to put aside what I need for me
And put them first because my problems aren't nearly as important.

It's scary because I want to focus on myself,
But I feel this responsibility over others
Like if I don't watch them, no one else will,
And sometimes I don't really think they can watch themselves.

I am caught.
Trapped.
With no way out.

I could work on myself and forget the others,
But some of them might do something drastic.

I could work on others and forget myself,
But then what will I become?

Lost.

I couldn't sleep.

My breathing speeds up a bit.

My breathing gets faster and I feel... "blank."

My chest hurts.
I want to cry.
I don't even open my mouth.
I cant.
I realize what's happening an I try to calm down.
I do breathing exercises.
I think about if I should mention this to someone.
I feel nothing now.
They chest pains stopped.
The breathing is slowed.
I sit there as the voices continue.

One tear rolls down my cheek.

I think about how no one is next to me.
No one is with me when I need someone.
That's how it usually is.
I just keep a lot of it in.

Another tear rolls down my other cheek.

I just close my eyes and try to sleep again.

I've had you since I was little.
I just didn't know you that well.
You hid in the background and hardly ever came to the light.
But you were there.

Now you have gained a friend.
You go hand and hand with each other.
You feed off of each other.
You are more present, but I still don't know exactly what you are.

I've started noticing you both more and more.
You create a tornado together.
Spinning with violent bursts.
Crashing things into each other inside of me.
It hurts.

I've let you consume me.
I feel hopeless.
I need to escape this.

I have a name to put to you now.
Anxiety.
And your friend.
Depression.

I've looked for help.
I heard that's the first step.
I'm pushing you down as best I can.

I at least have some hope now, and that's better than before.

You're always so sad.

I tell you how wonderful you are and how everyone that you meet loves you.

I am met with harsh self-deprecating words flowing from your lips so freely. Like you really believe the words.

Tonight I put you down to bed after one too many pills graced your tongue.

You were speaking gibberish. Incoherent sentences that meant nothing.

I gave you water, i tucked you in, and made sure you were okay.

Just before closing the door and letting the last light dim in the room, you said, "I love you."

And after all that you have said to me. Everything you have called me. Telling me that I wasn't worth the space I occupy.

I said, "I love you too."

I forgive you every time, because I don't believe you mean what you've said to me.

I have to believe that you don't really mean it.

And I have to believe that you do mean it when you say that you love me.

I know it may be selective, but I have to believe in something good right now.

Because to be honest, I'm scared.

But I know you will awake in the morning, and it will all start again.

The pretending begins again every time...

I have two of me you see.
One of me is nice and full of glee.
Happy
Crazy
Wild
Fun
And free.
That's the me everyone wants to see.

The other one of me you see,
Is a bit sadder and doesn't have as much glee.
This other side of me
Keeps more to itself
And thinks about things.
Like,
Life
Love
Sadness
And Sleep.

One likes to make people smile.
The other likes to make people think.

One likes to sleep and sometimes feels weak.
The other is full of energy and laughs as it speaks.

Everyone loves the happy me,
But I'm not sure if it really is me.

I never understood how someone might
Think that the other me
Is more of a plight
That they need to fight.

I feel like one of me is a charade
That I'm tired of putting on
For the people who would leave me
If I wasn't always the happy one.

That fear is something that's hard for me to bare.
So what do I do?

I guess I'll sit down and try to think this through.........