You've only seen a glimpse of my world.
A glimpse of my hatred,
happiness,
sadness,
depression,
anxiety,
loneliness.

A glimpse of whatever I want to show you because I'm scared.
Scared of how you'll see me when I sob on the ground because I've dropped a plate.
And yes, it may be just a plate but I've been so clumsy and tired.
Disturbed and discouraged by the voices.
The last thing I want to do is drop a ******* plate.

I'd be rattled if you knew that I can't function without pills.
I hate taking them because I can't feel,
But I don't want to hear anymore voices.
I don't want to be the usual freak on the street you know.

If you knew how hard it was for me to get out of bed you'd be surprised.
I only slept three hours last night but I was terrorized the whole time by my own personal demons.
I lay there with my eyes bloodshot and wide open, my body numb.
I want to get up, but what is there for me when I do?
Work?
Like I'd actually want to be there.

If you knew that people stared at me and thought I was hot until the scars adorning my body changed their minds.
And the whispers began.
"Oh my god..." "She's so ugly, such a freak." "******* emo's."
I don't go outside without long clothes anymore.
The only good thing is that I don't have to shave anymore.

I don't visit my family.
I haven't in the last 2 years.
They don't need to see the person I've become.
Even though they've helped made me this way.
And they never stop calling, and calling, and calling!
Can't they understand that I don't want to talk!?
Oh, yes!
Another ******* breakdown.
This time, I didn't drop the plate on accident.

I'm no good to anyone broken.
So I'd rather pretend to be fine and smile.
Than to let you in...
Than to let you see more than that glimpse of what is really *me.

"i will never let you go"
a lie most of us know
they tell us that they'll always be there
then are the reason that knives make our skin tear

An arrow points to the
hole in my chest
where my heart
once lived.

Happiness?
Where have I gone?
Cold and darkness
embraces my mind.

The mirror
shows me as
hollow and dead
like I'm a corpse.

I'm totally disconnected
and disjointed in this
reality, this plane
of existence.

Where has the me
that I once was
gone to?
Where am I?

I feel nothing
tasting only the
loneliness and dust
on my lips.

I've become paralyzed
in the waters of despair.

The first time my lips touched a cigarette,
I cringed at the taste but I ****** and puffed the toxins anyways.
smooth.
It was menthol.
I didn't know what that meant.
I didn't care.
I just wanted to be cool with my friends.
They were 14,
I was 12.
'Mature for my age'.
I had fitted in.
But was smoking that cigarette really, really worth it?
I haven't talked to those 'friends' in 6 years.