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 Mar 2019 Ruby
Venn
Depression
 Mar 2019 Ruby
Venn
(tw; hypothermia, death)

Having depression is like being caught out in a blizzard.

At first, the cold seems like nothing.

You're all bundled up in a fluffy coat,
scarf wrapped around your face,
hands slipped into gloves and tucked under your arms.

But then the snow begins to fall,
and the temperature drops,
and it's like the chill is stripping you down, layer by layer,
even though all your layers are still there.

It gets colder, and you start to feel the effects of the chill,
the fierce winter seeping into your bones,
making it seem as though you only walked outside
in a pair of shorts and a tee-shirt.

Your body begins to numb as the cold starts,
the weakest parts of you losing their feeling first.

Your nose,
your ears,
your cheeks and your face and your fingers,
all becoming completely numb,
as if they aren't there anymore.

And then your legs stiffen up,
and you have trouble walking,
even though you try so hard to keep moving,
because you know if you stop, you're doomed.

But you lose your ability to function,
the cold causing almost complete ****** paralysis,
and no matter how hard you try,
it's impossible to keep moving.

You fall to the ground,
curling into a ball in the snow,
trying to keep yourself warm,
but the cold is too much.

And as the hypothermia sets in,
your brain tricks you into thinking you're actually warm,
and you strip off the layers that were the only thing
keeping you alive.

And then it's over.
 Feb 2019 Ruby
Jellyfish
Take care of me,
Be there for me.
Never discourage me,
Love me unconditionally.
You're supposed to be my mother.
But you treat me like I'm nothing.
I'm sick of your constant disrespect,
The loss of love in your eyes that makes me want to cry,
It's itching inside of the back of my mind.
And someday I'll say goodbye to you,
You won't want me to,
But you can't make me stay.
You're not my mom.
But until then,
I'll be walking in the rain.
 Aug 2018 Ruby
rebecca
Broken crayons still color the same.
I mean- isn't that really the aim?
Finish coloring the big picture-
our life picture.
We're all crayons,
or markers, paint perhaps.
Everyone's a little bent,
cracked. Snapped,
in some way shape form.
It's really kinda the norm
nowadays.
But in a box full of crayons-
when they are used, when they live-
they snap. They crack.
They break.
But they still work, just the same.
It may be a bit tougher for them-  
but they're tougher from it.
We're tougher from it.
We're all broken crayons
filling in our own life line.
But broken crayons still color fine.
 Jul 2018 Ruby
levi eden r
for the first time in years,
i feel loved.
the gates of my heart opened and i feel the love of my friends and family again.
i feel reunited with myself.
i accept myself and all that comes with me.
the rain doesn't sound sad anymore.
i look forward to waking up,
even if i'm unproductive.
the tears soaking my eyelashes feels like love and happiness.
i feel so happy right now, i'm crying.
 Jun 2018 Ruby
raw with love
you're not your hair:
you can cut it dye it curl it straighten it shave it bend it twist it;

you're not your face:
you can hide it under layers of make-up you can put on lenses you can change your face in a matter of minutes;

you're not your skin:
you can cut it draw on it bite it tear it;

you're not your body:
you can lose weight gain weight;

you're not your clothes:
strip them off;

never reduce
yourself
to
a colour
a number
an adjective
a noun

never reduce
yourself
to a simple
word

you are
the thoughts you have at 3 a.m.
the lame jokes you tell your friends
the art you create
the books you read
the pages you have dog-eared
the quotes you have highlighted
the coffee you never finished drinking
the movie you watch after midnight, wrapped in a blanket
the chocolate cake you ate that night with that girl
the slice of pizza you could've eaten but you gave to your best friend
the kiss that still burns on your lips
the cigarettes that sting in your lungs long after you smoked them
the dreams you dream
the worlds you build in your mind
the song that's stuck in your head
the moments you're in the shower
the iloveyous
the ikindaguessilikeyous
the icareforyous
the seeyoulaters
the words you say
the smiles you smile
the laughs you laugh
the loves you love
the hates you hate

you are
an entire universe:
you're stars
and planets
and galaxies
and asteroids
and comets

you are a cosmos
trapped in
a shell.

you are
a gazillion worlds
locked in
a human cage.

never think
of yourself
as of
anything
less.
 Jun 2018 Ruby
Evie Richards
Today,
one of my friends told me
'you look different.'

At first,
I didn't take note;
I was messed up and it's just one of those things;
I didn't have my glasses
and my hair looked different to how I usually style it.
'no,' she said, 'it's not that...'
but,
then I heard it again;
'you look different.'

I didn't know what else to say but;
'that's the second time I've heard that this morning! ha ha',
laughing off the funny coincidence.
I asked her what was different,
but she too couldn't say...

No one could tell me what it was,
but everyone I asked,
they all said it,
all of my closest friends
and someone I barely know anymore.

'you look different.'

and,
I was talking to my friend about it,
when I jokingly said;
'well maybe I'm just happier than usual! ha ha'
but she looked kinda sad.
My other friend said
'wait, relax your face',
so I did.
'yeah, that's it!'

'you look different.'

'no,' I thought 'you just aren't used to seeing me happy'
this has been my day, it was way above average, so even though this happened, I really had a great day. I hope you guys can say that you laughed as much as I did :)
 Jun 2018 Ruby
Aa Harvey
A kiss goodbye


Death is creeping, while I am sleeping.
My final year, my final tear, my final verse, there is no more.
Death is here, I am full of fear.
I have no money to pay Death’s toll, for,
I am a mere mortal mind,
Who is lost in space and lost in time.
All I possess is an endless black sigh;
A half-hearted plea for a love-life without the lie.


Fix me once more, or permanently close the door,
For I am not yet ready to venture forth, into that long goodnight;
But forward I will march into the doom,
If I have to meet another version of the truth.
With all my might, I continue.
Let me pay what they say is due.
The work is not yet finished,
So before I am diminished,
And banished from this spherical giant we wander upon;
Let me see one more sun, let me raise a son,
Let me say all my final goodbyes,
Before all is said and done.


To any truth-sayer, please say “Have a nice day.”
I need the sentiment, more than the reality,
So at least before I meet my maker today,
I can say I broke the mold,
With every intention that lived inside of me.


(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
 May 2018 Ruby
infinite mind
your mind is like the ocean
a constant wave of emotion
for a second it was a storm of hate crashing out
now it is a calm tide of love surfacing about

beneath the tides lie countless wrecks
like memories resting inside my head
I thought I'd forgotten
placed them deep below
but they surface from time to time
trying to stay afloat  

my mind has a never ending complexity
I own it - yet struggle to control it
it is drowning in emotion
it is struggling to keep afloat

but for now I will bathe in the undisputed unknown
 May 2018 Ruby
Fritzi Melendez
Accidental paper cuts is where it starts.
You swiftly open your pink diary to write about the boy you fell in love with at recess.
It stings. Blood slowly drips. It stings. It’s so sudden and unwarranted.
You **** the blood and put a bandage on your finger and you write about your elementary school lover.

Drawn hearts around their names, or putting your first name in front of their last, it’s all your secrets.

They will never know.


You grow fast into middle school, where you encounter your first real heartbreak.
You once again swiftly open your pink diary out of heart broken tears falling from your eyes.
It stings. Blood slowly drips. It stings. It’s so sudden and unwarranted.
You **** the blood from your finger and put a bandage over your heart.

Scribble out the hearts, rip out his last name, cry silently into your pillow so no one can hear. Put on a mask in the morning until you are better. It’s all your secrets.

They will never know.


Fast forward to high school. Everyone is divided and different. People you once knew are once again memories. Lonesome days roaming hall ways. You tell yourself you’re used to it, but your mind thinks otherwise.
Once again, you swiftly open your pink diary to write about your boring day.
It stings. Blood slowly drips. It stings. It’s so sudden and unwarranted.
You **** the blood and put...
and p-...
and...
...
Put a razor against your skin.

Swiftly gliding it from left to right.
It stings. Blood slowly drips. It stings. It’s...

Amazing and exhilarating.

More. More. More.

Watch as I tear my arms into woven red spiderwebs.
Watch as I unravel this old bandage on my heart.
Watch as I show my vulnerability for just a moment.
I cant stop. I cant st op. The bleeding is n t stop ping.
I  c a n ' t  s t o-...
You put the razor down and look at the drips. you wash it off, throw away the bandages, put a sweater on and fall asleep. It's all your secrets.

They will never know.

It becomes a routine. Your pink diary begins to turn gray from dust. It doesn't help anymore. They put you on medications and therapy appointments, but you only get satisfaction opening your paper thin skin and watch as the lines well into pools of blood.

Drip.              
                 Drip.
   Drip.    

The sting in your arms is the only thing you can feel now. No one sees, it's all your secrets.

They will never know.

Never know...
What it's like to have this destructive addiction.
You see, I lied.
I knew the difference between paper cuts and razor blades when I was still learning long division.
It stopped being accidental after the first paper cut.
It began to be about glass shards on pale scrawny arms.
It began to be about long sleeves and pants instead of dresses.
It began to be about making excuses after excuses.

It's all my secrets.
They will never know.

... Never know until I cut one too many times.
Never know until my sleeves slide down my arms.
Never know until I puncture a vein.
Never know until I'm clinging onto lifeless pain.

It was all my secrets.
But eventually they knew.

They knew when pill bottles began to quickly empty.
They knew sweater weather was 6 months ago.
They knew the light in my eyes began to dim.
They knew I was suffering.

But I pushed them out.
Slammed the door and pulled down the sleeves.
Put on smiles and laugh like they do on TV.

Like an innocent child hiding paper cuts under bandages.
Growing into a ******* who finds solace in a razor.
Laughing at each tear that falls from my mother's face.
Door slams that just echo in my chest.
Digging more into my skin so I can just be put to rest.
This sweet, silent suffering is covered by a facade made of smiles.
But I still wince once in awhile.
It's just the cuts that rub against my inner side of my sleeves.

Reminding me of my dark thoughts.
Reminding myself of my weaknesses.
Reminding me of feeling something other than this numb orb,
that gnaws into every cell, ever nerve.
Up and down my arm until I feel the stinging static feeling.

Then I know it's time,
to start once again.
...
and...
It was all my secrets.
They weren't supposed to know.
I recently relapsed because I wanted to feel something. Can't say I regretted it.
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