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Nothing works,
I took all they gave.
Therapy,
Diagnoses,
Drugs.

And they took all I had.
Blades,
Technology,
Privacy,
My sense of self.

All to get "better."
"Better."

It seems that nothing works.
I'm just the same as before.
Or - I can't remember before,
I don't think I was there for that,
I was off where my own thoughts couldn't hurt me
(Maybe it got so bad because I wasn't there. I let go of my body and let It take the steering wheel and steer me towards my death.)

All I know is that right now, I feel like
nothing.
nothing.
nothing.

You were supposed to fix it.
What happened?
Why does nothing work?
All that I'm doing is losing its significance, and as I continuously fail at basic human interaction and my motivation to do anything that makes me noteable, I fear that I am too losing significance.
Just slowly slipping into the numbing, pulsing pain.
Just act like you never knew
Sleep to the sounds of hurt at night
And in wake have not a clue
Wear that bright smile
Like you always do
Keeping it in is most important
As long as it doesn't affect you.
About the bystanders of abuse
You are the main character of your own story, so you better start acting the part.

Love.
Hate.
Grieve.

Treat yourself.
Boast shamelessly.
Feel pretty.

Be childish.
Be emotional.
Be angsty.

Be human.
Be you.
Just be.
I feel that people restrict themselves from basic human qualities and end up feeling miserable. We don't have to be what the world wants us to. We should just be, shamelessly.
Despite what you might think,
"I don't know"
Is an answer.

Stop telling kids they have to know,
Right when they're asked to.

Take your time.
The best decisions stem from
"I don't know."
I was an indecisive child, criticized for never knowing what to do or what I wanted. It only made me more insecure and anxious when making choices. Now I'm struggling with the pressure of having to know my undetermined future.
Patience and thought is key. It's okay not to know yet.
Poetry isn't the description of the unique, never before heard.
Poetry is the carefully crafted common
The familiar and mundane
As an abstract art.
adore alliteration
Not only your beloved persons or unrequiteds,

But that kid that always sits across the cafeteria with their head buried in their sketchbook.
That old man flipping through the contents of the half-abandoned little library.
The boy resisting the leer of sleep as he nods of on the bus,
And the lady that walks her dog as the sun meets the horizon.

Remember to love long hot showers,
The moments of serenity between wake and sleep.
Dancing with young children,
or listening to their plotless stories.
The last period of an essay.
Late nights writing poetry.

Most importantly,
Remember to love
yourself.
I like walking in the park
I like to hear the birds tweet

I like the flowers in the springtime in the park
I like to draw with chalk in the park
In the summer, I can throw water balloons and have fun
I like all of the grass and all of the trees around me
In the fall we can make a leaf pile and jump into it!
In the wintertime, we can make snowmen and snow angles
And also a snowball fight!

I can race with my friends
I love all the fun you can play with your twin sister, maybe your twin brother, maybe a friend
Or maybe a big sister, or a little one -
Or a big brother, or a little one
You can play with your doll in the park
Maybe play with your robot

You can do so much fun in the park!
Written by my 6 year old sister (or rather, recited while I wrote)
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