The moment I started to lose myself I knew it was wrong.
When I became comfortable around you it became apparent you were becoming an obsession.
My mind became clouded with only you.
I thought it was okay to feel this way.
I thought of you as my best friend even though what I felt was anything but platonic.
Those moments I became enamored with a mere smile from you.
When you started to ignore me I thought nothing of it.
But then your cold gaze would trap me in its ever unfamiliar way.
I didn't know what it meant but the fear would always be enough to keep me up at night.
Did I do something wrong?
My mind would then go in deep into myself to search for an answer.
Suddenly I was reevaluating who I was.
I deserved it.
She was leaving me and the only reason I could find was me.
My mind twisted everything around.
In order to protect myself, I blamed her.
She was perfect in every way while I was flawed in every way.
I already knew it but I kept hiding under a sheet of narcissism.
I didn't want to admit I was wrong.
I didn't want to apologize for my mistakes.
I spoke badly about her any chance I got.
It would come out of mouth bitterly and I just wanted to spit it out before I could realize what a lie it all was.
But of course, I would then step back and realize how wrong it was.
I held a grudge while she was off accomplishing and prospering.
I stayed in the past while she was making way for the future.
My anger dissipated over the years.
It turned into regret.
It turned into self-hatred.

I could barely breathe.
In my throat were lodged the words I couldn't say.
The words were struggling to get out, they were trying to strain themselves out of my lips but I kept them down and remained silent.
I could only nod along because my mind wasn't there.
At the moment, my mind was preoccupied with holding back my screams and cries.
I didn't want them to see how truly mental I was.
Emotions are not at all greeted with open arms here; They're ridiculed and looked at with scorn.
Why would I want to be the one receiving the glares?
My vulnerability at the slightest things is considered a humongous weakness.
I can't show them the tears.
They may see the tear stains but they're easily looked past.
No questions are asked and even though that's a relief I really wish I had someone to talk to.
Hugs are amazing when you completely trust the person you're with, I don't have that.
Comfort from simply being with someone, I don't have that.
I should be content with what I have but what I need the most is what I'm lacking.
A long list I have that everyone sees yet never understands.
They'll never look deep enough.
Only I hold the answers yet no one cares enough to ask or truly care.
I have so much to say and I can only write it down.
I don't have to face anyone when I have a notebook and a pen in front of me.
I can properly articulate myself and not worry about embarrassing myself.
With a few clicks, it can be gone.
I'm a faceless entity here.
So when I write I know I don't have to lie.
My sexuality is out in the open here.
My crushes are mentioned boldly here.
My worries are spelled out for anyone to see here.
No pretenses.
Just me and a blank slate, waiting to be filled.

I have a memory of a young girl opening a book.
It is quite a large book for her tiny, delicate hands.
She looks as though a light gust of wind could blow her away and yet she is holding the book with careful hands.
In the memory she leafing through the book not quite understanding what is being said.
She had just recently learned how to read.
Such a large book was astonishing to her naïve eyes.
How does a person read a large book like this is what she was thinking.
Marveling at the fact she decides to one day read the large book and any large book alike.
It was a dream, an innocent little thought.
Soon enough another dream was blossoming in the young girl.
As she grew up she decided that one day she'd write books.
With hands that had grown a slight bit she would write until her fingers were stained with ink and the pages filled.
It was pure happiness.
But at one point the young girl becomes an adult with a memory that would fail her.
She could no longer remember the same happiness she would receive from the simple existence of literature.
No longer did the pages excite her, for some reason the pages would intimidate her instead.
She became fearful of those same words.
The words she could no longer write.
For some reason they became a memory she does not understand.
Why?
I don't understand anymore.

Last night, I had a dream I was in a car about to fall off the edge.
I was terrified and didn't know what to do.
Everything felt out of my hands as I sat there and waited in pained anticipation for my demise.
As the car fell I didn't fight it.
I was languid and didn't move to save my own life.
All I felt was relief.
Finally, it would be over soon.
My terror was overridden with acquiescence, I didn't ever have to face another tomorrow.
It was ending, I was ending.
The abyss swallowed me up and I accepted it with a rueful smile.
But I ended up waking up just as I felt myself falling into the oblivion.
I came to my senses and realized I was alive, another day I was here for another day.
Maybe another day to fight was just what I needed.
Tomorrow; another day is never promised.

In my dreams, there is a girl with brown eyes.
I know who she is, she was once in my math class.
In my mind's eye, I still retain her face even all these years later.
I never recall having a conversation with her.
All we had was eye contact.
I  would stare, she would stare; I like to believe it was a two-way experience.
At one point, I started to fall.
My daydreams and nights were filled with her bold eyes.
I loved the way she would face things head-on.
Soon enough I started to create scenarios of us together.
I went insane with the thought of her because I knew that was the only way I would ever have her.
Being in the closet was comfortable in a suffocating way.
I could exist in my own garden without anyone knowing but it was such a lonely existence.
The more I hid the more I became sick with envy.
She was out in the open while I hid in terror.
Even now I still wonder how things would have changed if I had taken a chance.
Furtive glances are not worth much if a step is never taken.
I sit here thinking about a one-sided story that will always stay in the past.
What good is it if I never learn?

Sometimes my anxiety gets the best of me.
I can not manage to be stable.
At times breathing hurts.
At times my speech becomes slurred.
At times my hands start to sweat excessively.
At times I get unreasonably angry.
At times my vision starts to blur.
At times I can not grasp what is really real.
As my heart starts to erratically pound I know I am at the point of an anxiety attack.
I take in deep breathes and wipe my sweaty hands and try to ground myself somehow.
I usually focus on a happier memory I know is somewhere deep in my memory.
If I cannot recall an uplifting moment I distract myself and instead immerse myself in a crack on the wall or how many tiles there are on the floor.
As the blurriness takes time to fade and my breathing stabilizes, I think optimistically: I controlled myself, I am in power of myself and it is okay.
But at times it isn't enough and I relapse into the helplessness.
Each time I realize how far away I am from normalcy.
At times breathing is a chore I am too tired to do.
At times the crushing anxiety makes it harder to exist.
But there are moments of beauty which makes living bearable.
As I see the beauty I know there is more to life than pain.
At times I am stunned by the beauty that is earth.
At times that is just enough for me.

"If you start, it will get easier."
Words that I always tell myself as the hour's flow by in a promising light that gradually dims into complete darkness.
My eyes are always drawn to the clock and as each second passes my heart withers in dread.
I didn't realize how fast the time had gone by.
Last time I had checked the sun was still high up in the sky just like my expectations.
As I glance at the obligations I failed to accomplish I can only feel numb.
All my panic disappeared and in place left a hollow shell too spineless to stand on its own.
Just when I had expectations in myself I let myself down again.
A waste of a day.
A waste of a week.
A waste of a month.
A complete waste of a life.

Can I take a day?
I just can't do it, is that enough of an exuse?
I couldn't get up this morning because I felt like vomiting from the simple thought of interacting with others, is that even an exuse?
Is it ridiculous that I cried myself to sleep last night and couldn't get any sleep because of memories and moments that have been long gone for years?
I don't even know how I remembered those certain moments because I'm pretty sure everyone else forgot about that little insignificant slip up I am too cowardly to let go.
If my fingers shake from picking up the phone in order to make a phone call to call out, am I making a big deal out of what other people do so easily?
Is it odd the way I bite my nails in fear of social interactions or upcoming deadlines?
I wouldn't have to fear that deadline if I had just done my work on time but I'm left with extra mounds of work to finish because I got distracted and disheartened from finishing something so easy.
Did you know I lie awake looking at my wrists and wondering what it would be like to cut just one little line?
I swear it will be just one time I wouldn't want everyone to know I actually meant those suicidal jokes, that would just ruin the punchline don't you think?
Even if I feel not up to doing anything, does it matter?
Excuse me for being sensitive.
I apologize for not being like everyone else who has their life together.
I apologize for being such a disappointment to my family.
From the way I burned through books I bet they thought I was going somewhere, preferably harvard of course.
It didn't matter how lonely I was, the lack of friends meant that I wasn't out doing meaningless stuff like forming a connection with other people.
Oh dear me, I was the teachers pet in middle school every adult loved me.
They had high expectations for me.
It didn't matter that I was isolated and considered the oddball.
They thought I was a genius.
Their approval was the only thing that was relevant about me.
Imagine the surprise it was that I didn't get straight A's.
Harvard never sent me an email of acceptance.
I was simply anxiety ridden me.
What a disappointment, they expected me to go to some prestigious university and discover the cure to some fatal illness.
I was supposed to go places.
I am deeply sorry, if I cry could I be excused?
So considering all of that and so much more, can I take a day?

It happened again.
The coward in me prevailed again.
The strength I acted like I had doesn't actually exist, it was just another figment of my imagination.
How many times will I abandon others in order to protect myself?
I cannot stand the thought of being abandoned so I leave selfishly.
I cut all ties off first.
It starts with words without any meaning.
It then begins to turn into awkward silences that never get filled.
Days turn into weeks.
Weeks turn into months.
Years turn into where did it all go wrong?

I am at a crossroads.
Whichever path I take will impact the people around me.
I know my choices disappoint everyone, but I am used to it.
Whatever I choose, however wrong it may be, I will be proud of.
Because all my life has been run by someone else.
A blindfold was held in front of my eyes and until I reached adulthood was it taken off.
In my eyes, I saw an unfamiliar thing which I had not learned in my youth: responsibility.
I had never taken the reigns of my life and I was painfully aware of it with every night of lost sleep, puffy eyes, and every neverending breath.
Don't become the mess I became.
I wish for everyone to wake up.
Before you reach those crossroads, please wake up.
Do it for yourself, future you.
I guarantee you can take on the world if you open your eyes and see how much more there is to adulthood than you think.
It's not just about the number eighteen, you have to be willing to change in order to match your age.
Becoming an adult means to not whine and constantly wish your parents will take care of every problem you make.
It means not blaming your parents for every decision you make; After a while, that becomes a ridiculous excuse.
The real question is will you take responsibility for your life?
After all, it is your life.
No one else owns it.
Those crossroads, which way will you choose?

I have a daydream in my mind.
It replays nonstop in my mind and has become a guilty habit of mine to revel in as my family lives on so blissfully unaware.
Many times I daydream of what if I was to erase myself from this life, I know it is a sign of depression but I have no other way to cope and manage this mania.
Many other times I daydream of leaving my current life, packing my bags and never looking back as the few people who care about me wonder where I am.
I am so guilty of so many selfish thoughts.
I know if I were to reveal how impure I am I would be turned away from and receive false pity.
So I want to be a coward and run away from what ails me.
I know it will leave unresolved problems no matter what dream I choose but I can not help but live a hypocritical life this way.
To erase is what I dream.

Girls like me aren't meant to be loved, they're meant to be left alone to rot in their worthlessness.
I have never tasted the sweet saccharine of love only the bitterness of tolerance turned into hate.
I hug you then flinch away if you move towards me.
I just love the feeling of fresh fear when you're learning how to steel yourself from their passion filled blows.
It's never a dull day with girls like me.
I scream and cry so much it becomes a pitiful spectacle, dull eyes that never see the light of day as bright as before.
As I smile I hide all the hidden hatred and ***** once you leave, my claws come out and I become a green eyed monster.
Girls like me don't have friends just acquaintances that hate me a little less than the average person.
If you promise me the world I'll get selfish and yell when you don't give me the entire galaxy.
I'm so clingy I become your second skin that you scratch off because it's so bothersome.
But in exchange I keep you at an arms length and leave you guessing why my eyes are so bloodshot.
Stay far away from girls like me, because miserable girls like me just love destroying lives.

Please, treat yourself with more compassion.
I know it is difficult to give yourself grace at times, but remember you are a human being.
We make mistakes but what is important is how we make amends for those mistakes.
Learn to apologize and have some self-reflection afterwards; mindfulness is important.
There are times when we wish we were not ourselves and that is okay.
I hope one day you wake up feeling proud of yourself and how far you have gone in life.
Compassion is difficult to receive but easy to give, isn’t it?
Envision the child in yourself and remember what it was that makes up your being.
The child is still there, why wouldn’t you treat yourself with compassion?

Soft brown eyes.
They're the same color as mine but hers carry so much more depth.
I could see a story in her eyes.
I wanted to tell her my story in exchange for her story but she never looked my way.
Of course, she wasn't interested.

How to disappear?
I ask myself everyday.
Under what mask will I hide myself today?
Am I going to have glee written on my face or perhaps an aura of innocence would be better.
I walk around with clear brown eyes that appear to hold naivety.
No one will know the amount of exhaustion I always have; The way it hangs on me both physically and mentally.
If I were to tell them, an answer that they find simple would roll off their tongues like a rock rolling down a steep hill,"You should get more sleep."
If only it was that simple.
If only my mind would shut up.
If only my eyes would stop watching the ceiling as silent tears stream down my face.
If only I'd stop rolling around my bed as if I'm a rock on a hill going somewhere.
They might as well console a crying child than try to help me.
I'm a lost cause.
A child listens, they're more obedient, easier to control; I used to be a child.
I used to listen.
I thought adults knew everything why else wouldn't I have listened?
They never listened to me so I took that as a sign that what I said wasn't important.
So I shut my mouth.
I stayed quiet like the doll they wanted me to be.
Adults knew best and they were always going to take of me, why else wasn't I allowed to make decisions?
I was sheltered from the rain.
I thought it'd be like that forever.
I would never need to pick up the pieces I had broken because the adults were there to fix my mistakes.
How wrong was I.
I forgot that I was supposed to be an adult too, maturity was something everyone developed.
They took away my dollhouse and told me I couldn't live in a world of fantasy anymore.
I didn't understand anything.
What was this?
I was left shivering in the cold and what I was left to face wasn't calm; I was left in a hurricane, It destroyed everything I knew.
Familiarity was what I always had, it comforted me, it was all I knew.
I survived the hurricane but I knew, I was left all alone.
I was faced with emotions that resembled nothing of the childlike happiness I had before.
It was ugly.
Everything was ugly.
I didn't like people they were mean creatures that didn't give hugs.
All they wanted was to strip me bare and take away my innocence.
The words weren't lovely anymore.
They were crude and harmful.
I would cover my ears but I couldn't escape it all.
I'd turn my head away but the words were always there, the sneers were ever present no matter how much I acted like they weren't there.
Adulthood was a foreign concept to me.
It wasn't nice and soft like ice cream on hot summer days.
It was tumbling into cave without a flashlight; there was no light anywhere.
I stumble around with no semblance of direction and in doing so I get even more lost.
I don't know where I'm going.
All I know is I keep ruining everything.
I'm sorry.
Future me, the mistakes I make right now, I hope we can power through them.
No matter how hard, please keep living.
Not for anyone else, but ourselves.
If only life was as nice as Winnie the Pooh showed us.

I wanted to make them happy.
My happiness didn't matter as long as they were the ones smiling.
Even if I had to paste a smile on my face I would make them happy.
But of course, I fall too short.
I will never reach their expectations.
They will not smile but hold a grimace of disgust on their faces.
I wasn't enough.
They expected nothing from me anyways.
They already knew of my incompetence.

I've noticed your personality changes around certain people.
In a single moment, I can see the shift in your posture and language.
A slouched back around people who you feel more comfortable around and less harsh words usually leave your mouth.
But you become different around people you feel the need to impress.
Profanities leave your mouth and cruel words leave smirked lips as if saying, "I have impressed them by being a complete monster and I know I'll be forgiven for my actions."
It's true, I always forgive you.
Whatever misgivings in my heart will be washed away with a single smile and laugh from you.
I dislike the bitterness of holding hatred in my heart.
Even as I am made fun of and used like a rag doll for anyone to use as they like, I never leave.
Yet as I am treated like a waste of space used only for their sadistic enjoyment, I remain there.
As we act like nothing happened and the worthlessness builds in me, I still keep the love in my heart.
I remain infallible.
So as you step on me and cruelly grin, I smile through all the pain because we all know a lonely girl like me has no place left to go.
You all know I love you too much.

I wonder if I meant anything to you.
To this day I can only seem to piece together a few conversations but I still cannot seem to understand or trust what you said.
You were a breath of fresh air yet I somehow had trouble breathing.
Overthinking every little word I lost nights of sleep.
I wonder if you had trouble sleeping sometimes.
I know you did have trouble sleeping but was it ever because of me?
Did the memories ever come back to you and force you to lay awake reminiscing what never was?
Did your eyes ever close shut in bliss at the mere happiness of knowing I existed?
I wonder if you felt something.
Anything.
Do you remember our conversations?
Do you at least remember me from time to time?
How much I would give to know.
All I'm left to wonder nowadays is how much my life would be better if you were here.
But all I'm left with is memories that are slowly dying and drifting away like a leaf in autumn.

There are moments when I let go.
My words become unhinged and I do not worry about what I say or how little I say.
I do not curl up into myself wishing to disappear.
I speak and I do not regret, time does not seem to exist anymore and I am free, I am alive, I am living, I do not fear; I truly exist.

Falling in love is dangerous.
I grow attached and after that, a little thing called my mind obsesses over the people I love.
Every little word or action clouds up my mind and makes it impossible for me to think for myself.
I become sensitive to their opinions of me, whether negative or positive.
If its positive I practically float the whole day on the happiness of making the person I love proud of me.
But when its anything negative I fall into a depressive state and become a complete mess at the thought of them disappointed or unhappy with me.
An unwelcomed guest called anxiety knocks at my door and intrudes constantly in mind, millions of thoughts come rampant in my head until I'm spinning.
It completely disappears when the person I love smiles at me or talks to me.
Like a receding wave, everything is taken away.
Whatever traces of negativity are washed away and I feel completely accomplished in life because they're finally happy with me.
Love for me is being completely destroyed but then being made anew by what destroyed me.
So falling in love for me means being destroyed something I will never shy away from.

My voice, at times, is quiet.
As quiet as late-night rain which you don't even realize fell until traces of raindrops fall from an overhanging tree and softly caress your face.
My voice, at times, is loud.
As loud and unceasing as a heartbeat, always heard in the corner of your mind.
My voice, at times, is silent.
As silent as the streets late at night when you feel most invincible with just the moon and the stars by your side.
Somehow my silence is loudest out of all I've said.
My voice and words are always looked past yet my silence is the only thing worth commenting on.
"Are you angry?"
Does it even matter much?
Do you even care?
I just want to drown in my emotions why can't I be left alone?

I always knew you had been lying to me.
Since the moment we've met each other every word that crept off your lips and reached my mind were made up tales.
I'd listen in awe as you smiled and stared at me like you knew way more than me.
In a way, you were true.
I've always been an honest and open person, you knew that better than anyone.
I loved you so much, you were my entire world and I was one of the moons that orbited you.
But I was just another moon to you, someone easy to control and manipulate.
You'd say a few words and I'd believe all without a second thought.
I never questioned anything because I thought to myself why would the person I love purposely lie to me and treat me in such a manipulative way.
Your wide doe eyes held a whole galaxy but behind those eyes was a void that wanted to **** up all the life in the world.
I was the closest to you and you wanted to destroy me.
I believed all your words no matter how farfetched or doubtful were the truth and only the truth.
I held you in such a higher esteem than myself.
As you talked me down and made me feel small, I loved you unconditionally.
All the pain you inflicted me didn't matter because I thought I deserved it.
Before I knew it you had conditioned me into hating myself and the feelings of worthlessness were all I knew.
I felt like I didn't deserve any kind of happiness so gave everything to you.
My mind, my time, my thoughts, my words, my love, they were all for you but you didn't care.
I was always only second rate to you.
I gave you my love but you only wanted my pain in order to feel better about yourself.
So you slashed at my heart and acted like I was exaggerating.
You don't understand why I've changed towards you, why I've put this distance between us.
A clear answer has opened up to me, I finally have the clarity I have so desperately needed: you are not my world.
The world does not revolve around you and everything you say. Your lies are clear as day, you are not as clever or sly as you think you are.
The pain you inflict on people will rebound and cause even more pain than what you have inflicted on others.
My world is my life and what I love and dedicate myself to.
No longer will I allow your words to cause me pain.
I will stare you straight in the eye and not tremble at the mere sight of you.
I am stronger and better.
My world has gotten so much bigger now with you gone.

The intensity in your eyes would always send me reeling.
I couldn't match your stare because it always took my breath away.
I consider myself easily moved and didn't want to go off the deep end with your eyes always the last thing I saw before falling into the oblivion that is my emotions.
But ultimately, easily manipulated me fell into the oblivion that was your eyes.
It was expected with how beautiful you were.
Brown eyes that were more nerve-wracking to meet than looking down large heights.
I was in over my head ever considering you were looking my way purposely.
You spoke of love in a skeptical way as if it was impossible to find.
At that moment, all I could hear was a love song asking you to come my way or at least look my way.
You never did.
Disappearing suited you.
It reminded me of those days before I met you and I knew that was all I would ever get: blank stares and silence.

Over the course of the years, I have discovered many things; most bad but the occasional good things make me smile for a minute.
Although I have gained a bit, I feel like I have lost more.
I remember thinking to myself that with time everything will be clear and I won't have to cry myself to sleep anymore or fear myself when I am in a closed, vacant room.
At 14 I understood that time will be a blur and I will have no time to prepare myself.
Even so, life had to get better; I had to get better.
The future is unknown yet lovely.
In the past, I was allowed to have dreams, expectations.
Anything was possible as long as I worked hard; your dreams will not accomplish themselves, but you can work towards them.
What a plan.
What an idealistic plan.
Plausible.
Possible.
I could.
They never said I can't.
I built up a tower; It was knocked over, not everything lasts.
I have nothing to look forward to.
Routine.
Boring routine.
A blank face in the mirror, is that really me?
There is nothing, I can't console you or fix you.
I can only say, "I'm sorry I failed you."

Why would hell be considered below us when I see it every time you look at me.
Is it so wrong I depend on you so much.
If I don't see you for awhile I feel like I did something wrong and blame myself.
It's always my fault, isn't it?
I ruin everything I touch but you're the only one who can stand me.
You control me and I am aware of it, how bitter it is to exist for one sole person.
I exist to make others happy, my own happiness doesn't matter.
I don't match up to her.
When I don't talk to her I lose my way.
So when I see her my demons flare up and I realize I'm in hell because of her.
Real hell is looking into her eyes and realizing how much she ruined me.

Do you regret anything?
I definitely regret meeting you.
Perhaps if I'd met someone better I would have a healthier mindset.
Before I met you I was unaware of societies pressures.
When you came along you pushed societies beliefs on me, you made me swallow it all down unwillingly.
I didn't know I was a pure imperfection.
My existence was flawed in every way, you made me see that so clearly.
I couldn't look into the mirror without feeling contempt at the face I saw, it was my own but I hated it.
Your prying eyes and scalding tone made me second guess every aspect of myself.
I was less than adequate and your words made me realize it.
I started to compare myself to everyone, that was my biggest downfall.
The apparent difference between myself and my peers made me uncomfortable in my skin.
My best friends were dragging my self esteem down to hell and I was fighting back feebly.
I wanted to be my own person but that wasn't at all greeted with open arms.
I had blend in with the others in order to fit in but I never could.
I couldn't mold myself into what they wanted.
As each day went on I knew with certainty: I was a worthless human who couldn't even follow simple rules.
Who I am didn't matter.
I just had to fit in and everything would be okay.
But I was breaking and wasn't perfect.
My mind was collapsing and I still didn't fit in.
Everyone was leaving.
One by one they left behind scars on my heart until one person was left.
The scars on my heart didn't matter as long as she was besides me.
She was the one who left behind the biggest scars but at the moment I didn't care, at least I wasn't alone.
She stepped on me and bruised me but I loved her, I felt like love was enough to fill the emptiness in my heart.
In my mind I made her out to be an angel even though she was running her nails down my skin, even as she was making the gashes in my heart larger.
I knew I would never heal but I stayed even as she manipulated me with my love for her.
She never cared enough but her smile made all the pain worth it.
These tears and pain, will they ever go away?

My youth, I can barely recall it.
Certain pieces I can never remember.
I have unanswered questions which will never find their truth.
All my memories seem to be mixed up, cluttered and messed up like someone searched through them and forgot to put them in their right place.
It's almost like I'm experiencing life through the eyes of someone else's life.
The person who I'm living through seems to have different ideals than me and shivers in disgust when I think that way.
Who am I to disagree?
My true self seems to be going through hell.
Maybe I should give in.
After all, the person I claim to be is not at all that pleasant.

Writing was as easy as breathing to me.
I could write for hours about any fantasy I had and it was all so beautiful and precious to me.
But at some point the blank pages started to intimidate me.
I'd hold my pen as if it would tell me all the answers to any of my fears.
At one point my fears became the words that would fail me.
Suddenly breathing wasn't as easy as before.
I'd hold my breath and count the seconds hoping that at one point it would all stop.
My world would stop spinning and all I could think about were the poems I could not write.

I sit on the ground in the bathroom and feel comfortable.
My mind feels at ease because I know no one will enter this place or bother me.
No questions are asked as I lock myself in here, it's less noticeable and because of that it has become my retreat.
I know it sounds weird to enclose myself in place where everyone does their business and showers but it feels better here.
As the overhead fan blows on my face and the sound of my breathing is the only thing that exists I feel less nervous.
For a moment I know I won't be bothered.
For a moment I don't need to answer anyone's questions on why I've locked myself up.
For a moment, I can breathe easily.

I have a canvas.
It's filled with all kinds of pleasant colors.
I usually paint it with kindness.
A smile is meant to make people trust you.
Let's layer the canvas with a few nice words.
Some wittiness too.
Laughter is always appreciated.
Just don't add any undesirable colors.
It has to be bright and beautiful.
No dull colors.
Dull colors are hated.
Even if the dull colors are a part of you don't add them.
Keep it up.
Don't falter.
If you slip up they'll hate the canvas and everything it contains.
Each brush stroke will never be in vain, just keep it up.
Don't let them see the dull colors.
All that's needed is brilliance because no one appreciates a dull canvas.
Even though you sometimes love the dull colors don't ever reveal them.
Bury them under layers of color.
It's like this the painting is beautiful.
Everyone loves beauty.
Even if it's not the true colors of the canvas, all that matters is to be loved.

The day I realized I wanted to die I felt as if all the light of the world had fled from me.
In front of me lied my own hopes, murdered.
The flowers withered with me, I could no longer be considered beautiful.
The day I wanted to die never stopped.

A boy and a girl.
The boy has blue eyes.
The girl has brown eyes.
The boy has wide shoulders and large hands.
The girl is dainty in every way she moves.
Her brown eyes caught my eye quickly and abruptly.
The boy was cute.
Isn't the boy supposed to leave me breathless?
I could go months without remembering his existence.
When he told me he liked me my heart wasn't moved.
But the fluttering of her eyelashes made my heart fly, such euphoria from simply seeing her.
I could go on for days only thinking about her.
A dazed mind that only thought about her.
I wouldn't care if she broke my heart.
She'd look beautiful breaking me down.
A beautiful brown-eyed girl sounds better than that blue-eyed boy.

Today I breathed in air; although I sometimes held my breath.
I swallowed saliva and down my throat, I felt a painful ache.
I took many, albeit awkward, steps.
In front of my mother whose voice usually was booming, I faced her quiet disappointment; It was utterly deafening I would've preferred being yelled at than face what reminded me of walking barefoot on glass.
I lay my head on my pillow and felt the memories fill my head like a shallow pond, I waded through it but felt as if I was on edge of stumbling into the deep end.
As tears fell I willed myself to stifle the sign of weakness in case anyone walked into the room.
I am alive.
I am unaware of how I exist.
The mirror lies to me and I only look away in hopes it's unfaithful as I think it is.
In one day we can do so much.
In one day we can learn so much.
In one day I felt so much yet I was unproductive.
My own weaknesses only reminded me of how much I needed to work harder.
I am a girl who despite everything still believes in the beauty of life; the sight of the clouds makes me dream of a better future.
In the blue sky, I see the ones I loved and lost.
I want to make my parents proud yet I don't know how to make myself proud.
Who am I to wish for more?
I am still in the present so what more am I supposed to do except run until I'm happy where I am.

I have an unanswered message.
Actually, not just one, the number has been growing these days.
I am the proud yet hurt owner of an empty inbox.
If I were to have a message I know it is just spam.
I never check, I stopped having hope years ago.
As friends left I knew it was futile to expect a message.
After all I became just another second thought.
In the furthest corners of the few people minds, I reign there.
But sometimes I manage to have a few seconds of glory and I receive a message.
I answer back, immediately with excitement.
I wait and I wait and I wait.
As months pass I know, it will always remain another unanswered message.

I have too many unfinished sentences.
They've all molded together in my mind and won't leave.
I don't have a way of letting them go, my mind is going against myself.
I don't have the willpower.
I am not strong enough to defend myself against the callous words of my own creation.
Too many words linger and make home in my deteriorating mind.
The unfinished sentences became a paragraph.
It never ended.
The paragraph got bigger and bigger until it became pages long.
Before I knew it I had a novel of unsaid words in my mind, looking for some kind of output.
Each time, i would let go of my pen and remain silent.
I didn't have a clear grasp on my emotions so I let all stay in mind without any escape.
I didn't even cry.
I kept it all bottled in and let it fester until it became an infection that contaminated my entire body.
The tears came out one way or another but it wasn't enough.
I needed something else.
I needed a refrain.
But it was never there.
He was never there.
They were never there.
Somewhere was actually nowhere.
It was all I could come up with.
It was all I ever could ever write.
It's all I ever see.
I'm sorry was all it ever became, simply unfinished.

Do you realize how much you can wreck a persons mind?
Your words and actions can do so much.
Your words can be as soft as a pillow, but then muffle the cries of terror.
Your actions can cause that girl to blush ever so gently, but then cause those same cheeks to have a waterfall of tears coursing down.
It's not fair.
The same person you expected so much from caused you so much pain.
But then like a fool you take them back.
Your love makes you see past the mistakes.
Any rational thoughts disappear and each night you contemplate waiting forever for your love to be wholly returned.

There is a certain emotion in my mother's eyes I am used to.
It drips off her lips and reaches everyone in distance of her.
Sometimes when I glance in the mirror I can see it reflected in my bloodshot eyes.

Hands that are used to create beauty no longer hold the same passion.
Lingering in my mind are memories and thoughts which have no more use.
I can see in the corner of my periphery a window which shines a bright day.
Maybe today there is more weight in the everyday life I choose to consistently throw away.
From my *****, mussed bedsheets I only see the wall and a phone screen which I use as much as I breathe.
This is living I decide as I discard whatever pride I used to have.
The same songs played on a day that has repeated too many times for comfort.
A vacancy is where my mind lives.

I like to think about what we were.
Those times when we'd smile and laugh like there were no worries.
In those moments I liked to pretend I was mentally stable and I bet you were hiding under the guise of a smile too.
But we were together, happy.
As time passed for some reason the happiness started to decline.
Each year started to become a time stamp for the ones who left and tears were lost for.
Months were spent on lost sleep and tear stains were left to disappear gradually.
The fragile confidence broke away until it couldn't be pieced together the same way it was before.
We were hesitant and faltered constantly yet all those hours of lost sleep and the seemingly neverending sadness was worth so much.
It was precious the way I lost myself and became anew so much stronger.
I am not as I was.
The happy times are not as abundant as before yet I feel so much more fulfilled as a person than before.
What we were is just a distant memory.
What we are right now are clumsy teenagers looking to find our way in this massive world.
We are not perfect, we are just right and we will find our way no matter how far away we stray from each other.
Looking beyond what we were I hope you can change and become even more beautiful.
For now, let's reminisce.
We were beautiful dreamers and we still are.
The light in you, I hope it never dies.