One, be anyone but yourself. The media frowns upon individuality

Two, become your flaws. The media says you are no more than how much your eating disorder will let you consume

Three, do not get help. The media tells you that keeping it inside makes you strong

Four, never deny a man the right to touch your body because the media tells you that is all you are worth

The tears blind your eyes while the voices deafen you,
screaming to just give up but pleading for you to stay strong

Be proud to be with me, kiss me in public, hold my hand, show me off too your friends, take interest in what I enjoy, listen to me rant just to hear my voice, sit and watch the stars with me, be proud of me, and I’ll be proud of you…love me, and I’ll love you

Can I be your cigarette?
so you can pull me out of a dark box
so you can light me up when I'm cold
so you can keep me on your lips
so you can inhale me even though you know how toxic I am
but you don't really care because you love that feeling in your lungs

Sitting alone swaying back and forth hyperventilating, drowning in failure and gasping for acheivement

Hey little lady sitting alone.
I think you need a hand to hold.
Hey little man staring at the screen.
I think you need to start living your dream.
Hey little artist with your head held high.
I think you need to let go and cry.
Hey little writer with your pen on the page.
I think you need to escape this cage.

When every new smile is so fake, I don't know how much more of this I can take...
Lying down watching the stars and remembering a love that was once ours
I'll slow down and breathe things in but my heart is beginning to wear thin
I worry if I try to love will my walls crumble?
I'm trying to be tough but these scars on my wrists say enough
They say your never who you really are so, who am I?
If a were to die it scares me to think of how little would cry
I don't want to leave you I swear but if someday I decide I can't bare
Will you still love me
Will you still fall
Will you miss me
Or not care at all
These are the dreams I have
Waking up crying, can't forget
These words of inspiration
These talks of motivation
Don't do much
If you were to find me free what would your reaction be?
Would you fall to the ground and curse the profound or not care at all?

Today my best friend, the same girl that laughed until she cried at my corny jokes just one year ago, mesaged me and said its getting bad fast and that all she wants to do is die..I cried reading her message because i knew that the girl i once knew was already gone

He told me he would go through hell for me if it meant I got better and the tears streamed down my face and the butterflies erupted in my stomach because he was the first to be willing to go through hell for me, not put me through it

I feel guilty for getting better while you are getting worse
I feel guilty that my scars are fading while yours continue to bleed
I feel guilty that I can turn off my thoughts while yours still keep you up at night
I feel guilty that I cannot help you like you have helped me

I don't miss her I just miss the idea of her, I miss being able to call her mine. Being proud of her, showing off how beautiful my girl was...I was like a boy showing off his new convertible to his jealous friends. She was mine and I was hers, but now we both belong to a different fate other than being together

I cannot admit that i need help.
I cannot show weakness,
Though its been strength thats kept me here this whole time

I find peace in lightning
So strong and powerful yet naturally beautiful
It has such ability to **** yet its surges of electricity keep us alive
With bright trails of intense light it taunts us
Reminding us of its presence
So bright, so stern yet as breathtakingly gorgeous as a delicate flower
I relate to lightning as another may relate to fictional being, though my connection is quite real

If with my eyes I see no pain
would it be me or the world to go insane?
If with my ears I hear no cries
would it be me or the world who dies?
If with my hands I feel no scars
would it be me or the world behind bars?
If with my nose I smell no smoke
would it be me or the world to choke?
If with my tongue I taste no blood
would it be me or the world to be set a flood?

You are the scars on my wrist
you are the fresh cuts on my hip
you are the noose hidden in my closet
you are the letter telling my parents that it's not their fault
you are the lie behind every "i'm okay" i've ever spoken

I wish I could hold your hand without my palms sweating or my fingers shaking
I wish I could look you in the eye without having my insides ache with the feeling of man eating butterflies
I wish I could think about you without my head spinning
I wish I could read your sweet messages without crying because my anxiety does not deserve love, and sometimes anxiety is all I am.

Why do I still write about the pain of the blade when it hasn't kissed my hips for months
Why do I still write about you when you have not kissed my lips for even longer

When everyone around you is breathing smoke it is hard to keep your oxygen for yourself...and soon you are breathing their smoke while they are gasping for what little air you have left.

They say that when an artist dies, God lets them paint the sky and lately I've been thinking a lot about what my sunset would look like

We sat on his bed as the clock clicked closer to midnight
we had love in our eyes and each other on our lips
he asked for my approval and oh how I loved him more when he cared enough to ask
we laid down on his bed and gave ourselves to each other
we smiled and laughed because we both knew that this was right and that for once in our lives we weren't making a mistake

Take off your mask let everyone see the true beauty not moulded by society,
Smile at your faugh and watch the admiration grow,
Do not be afraid to cry,
Show others that they are alive in side,
Impact their lives by helping them through,
Tell them you share the same struggle they do,
Be happy when you look into the mirror for beauty has never been clearer,
Do not **** in your stomach when that boy walks by, for your only showing him that perfection is a lie,
Find the one who will listen and care, be annoyed by your actions but still not go any where

There are galaxies beneath my skin that only your touch can unearth, you expose the universe to me using only your lips, leaving proof that your love is not a dream

Yes I still get suicidal thoughts, but then I remember how your hands feel against my skin and how you voice sounds like the most beautiful poetry when you say my name and then I remember, I could never leave something so perfect behind.

I'm covered in scars
Scars from the blade
Scars from climbing
Scars from reaching the top of the bridge
Scars from falling
But I am still here...and so are my scars

I talk in my sleep
Spilling secrets i cannot bare to keep
In the morning my lips are shut, while the rest of me comes undone
My thoughts overflow into my lungs, making it hard to breath
I do not do it because i want to
I do not have control
Though i feel i must appologize because i know your heart takes a toll

You my darling are gorgeous, and not just in the way you smile, even the darkest parts of your mind shimmer as if the scars on your heart demand a graceful reputation.

Typing "I'm fine" onto the keys of the message board while the glory of the stained red silver still shakes in my other hand.
Reaching out for something to absorb the hurt, now dripping from my hip
sometimes it makes a fermiliar exit through the same wound it may have entered in before...

My heart is never valid in the presence of panic
yet I will still take a pen and drag it along paper
as if it were a stamp of my own approval
I will stay up late trying to make my screams sound like poetry
tuning every octave of my pain into a rhyme

I'll breathe you in like smoke
I'll get high off of your fumes
I'll lose myself under your influence
And I'll hear about what your love did to me tomorrow

I spend hours writing some night in hopes to calm myself
but sometimes the words scratched along the paper aren't enough
I still find it hard to not think about death some days
I still think about my red inked silver pen
And i still wonder if happiness even exists or if it is just the god like coping mechanism we use to convince ourselves that we are okay

You deserve a girl who isn't broken
who isn't depressed
who isn't anxious
who doesn't slice her own skin to release her demons
who doesn't smoke just for the self destruction
who loves herself
But yet you still whisper these sweet words to me and make it your goal that I realize there truth
my only question is...
...why me?

My heart is frost bitten and the only thing I can feel is the black that the cold put there.  And the snow doesn't only bite at my exposed skin, it eats away at what happiness summer may have left behind.

When it gets too much to bare, look fear in  the eye and step closer showing it you are its enemy....you are strength