I can't do brain
I can't do thoughts
I can't do friends
And I can't do smoking in parking lots

I can't do death
But I also can't do living

I can't do anything
Except for just giving
And giving

The people on the pages
Of those books that I hold close to my heart
Smell like home,
And are the light in the dark of my mind
Are so much better
Than the ones I know
In real life

Some days we moge podge upside down elephants to our doors at 11pm

And some we just lay in bed feeling everything and nothing all at once

That is the complex,
Cruel,
And beautiful
Thing about being alive

I used to be filled
With such intense emotions
Every day
A tear and a smile
Filled the jar

It was filled with anger and sorrow
But also filled with beauty and color
It was like stepping on sharp rocks in a beautiful sea of blue

Now the water has been drained
And the rocks made into sand that just sticks uncomfortably to me

I do not miss the pain
Bruises on my feet,
Blood making a pool of self-hate on my hands,
Or do I?

I think I just miss the ocean water
I long for the light of the sun reflecting on it
And the creatures that call it home

I feel that the sea has been emptied
And so has my soul...

I know I can't stop taking the little pill
That just keeps increasing in size
But I don't know how much longer I can take it

I don't know how much longer I can stand in the this big hole that was once the ocean

I guess the medication worked
I don’t feel depressed

I don’t feel anything anymore

I may not believe in a god(s)
But that does not mean that I do not have a religion

I believe in poetry

I sit there
Passively doing schoolwork
Only to look up and notice
There are groups of people who are laughing and smiling

At first
I am grateful not to be one of them
It's so much work to pretend to be happy
To pretend to find the jokes funny
But then I remember
That usually people aren't pretending