The princess glides across the dance floor
On the tips of her toes
Barely touching the ground,

She is not dancing, no, she is not so simple
The princess is flying, free, forgetting
That eventually, she will fall

Her legs will begin to shake
After hours of torture, her feet will swell
In the shoes two sizes too small

Her ankles will crack under the pressure
But she will keep dancing
The princess cannot let anyone see
The pain that she is in, after all,

Beauty is pain,
But pain is not beautiful

i remember
the first time i thought
taking medication was a bad thing
a thing
i would be better off not doing

i remember
wondering if it would make me a different person because
if it’s changing my brain, and i believe my brain is what makes me me, isn’t it changing me

i remember
taking it anyway, because it was supposed to help, and it did . . . sometimes
but it kind of made me worse,
the first one did anyway, but that’s another story

i remember
taking the second kind and knowing
that this was helping
it was making me feel better,
but then

i remember
my cousin telling me he didn’t need medication, that it wouldn’t help him
plus,
he was strong enough without it anyway

i remember thinking
“doesn’t that make me weak”
and i didn’t want to be weak
so i stopped taking
my medication

i remember
my cousin telling me i wasn’t weak either way
that i should take the meds if i needed them
but he also said “throwing meds at a problem isn’t always the solution”

so i remember
deciding it wasn’t the solution i wanted
i’d find a different one
i would be fine on my own
so now . . .

i remember
when I was taking medication
the lows weren’t quite so low
but
the highs weren’t quite so high either

I don’t want to be sad anymore.

I want to feel happy
For more than just a day, or a few hours at a time
I want to be happy

I don’t want existing to hurt anymore.

I want to wake up in the morning
And want to get out of bed, or at least want to exist in my bed

I don’t want to live anymore.

But I want to want to live
I want living to stop hurting so much that I want it to stop

the hallway bathroom and i
have recently become close again
she is a friend to me
in all of the worst ways

when my body grows too big,
the bathroom is always there
waiting for me to come back
to need her again

when no one wants to see my tears
she cradles me in her arms
lets me sit on her marble tiles
lean close to her porcelain seat

i whisper secrets to her
let her see all of my tears
and she comforts me
lets me empty everything into her

she tells me what i am doing
is alright, it won’t hurt anyone
my secrets are safe with her
but i don’t feel safe with her

no one else will hear me
no one uses the hallway bathroom
maybe that is why
she always holds me so tightly

she whispers secrets back to me
every once and a while
she’ll tell me that she’s missed me
that it’s been too long

or she’ll say that i am finally back
where I belong
with her, but still alone
and sometimes she’ll even give helpful tips

“it’s easier to ***** if you plug your nose”
“if you try one more time, you’ll feel better,
despite the burn in your throat”
“just once more, remember to breath this time”

we have always had a strained relationship
the hallway bathroom and i
but i always seem to crawl back to her
and she is always ready for me

I have long thought I would rather
Fall into an abyss than
Continue to live, work,
Force myself through every day
It is not easy to want to die,

But I will not, die that is,
**** myself, I guess, I
Will continue to push myself
Out of bed every morning,
Force myself into life

But it is not force,
It is how things are, how
They are meant to stay
Life is only wasted on those
Who choose not to live it

And I will not be wasteful
Will not crawl into the hole
My depression wishes
To keep me in,
I will not die, but not only that,
I will live

I want so badly
To be naked with you
To be comfortable enough in my skin
To let you see all of me

I want us
To be alone together and 
For you to lay with me
And feel at home

I am not beautiful
When I am sad
Because my depression
Is not the pretty
Made for tv kind

It’s the kind
That keeps me in bed
All day and night
Not able to get up
But also unable to sleep

The kind that means
I didn’t take a shower
Or bath all week
Because I couldn’t
Even put in that small amount of effort

It’s not the kind
That people want to see
To take artsy photos of
That could just be fixed
If only I could be happier

It’s the kind that means
I’ll be up all night again
And I’ll have bags under my eyes
And I won’t put on makeup
Because I just can’t do anything

And I can’t make myself study
Or do any work at all
Because my mind
Just can’t stop thinking
About everything and nothing

The kind that brings up
All of the memories
That I try to forget
And that try to **** me
Or maybe that’s just me

My parents do not know
That I had my first girlfriend
Before I ever had a boyfriend

They do not know that seventh grade
I thought I was bi, which evolved into pan,
Which is now queer/gay

I had my first girlfriend
In seventh grade
When she asked me to date her

We didn’t do anything really
I never even kissed her
But I guess we were only thirteen

She is now a he, but still
He means the world to me because
He taught me not everything is black and white

Now I know girls can be friends or foes
But they can also be enemies or lovers
And they can be everything else in between

So thank you to Kris
For helping me learn and grow
You are truly special and beautiful

i remember
my assistant speech coach
thinking my poetry performances on depression were just because it was a good topic
not thinking it could be because i’d felt that

i remember
performing in practice and her telling me
“you portrayed the sadness really well that time”
and i said,
“that’s because i’m sad right now”

i remember
her telling me it’s different
that i'm too happy to be that sad
“but you’re always smiling” she says
like that has anything to do with anything

i remember
being angry at her
for not knowing, not seeing i wasn’t really that happy
for telling me that i was

i remember saying
well that’s just the three Kickstart energy drinks
and the antidepressants i've taken today
and knowing she thought
i was joking

It’s easy, natural:
Chew, swallow
Keep it down,
Eat

You learned
When you were small
Just keep it down,
Eat

Food is not
Your enemy
Just keep in down,
Eat

Body weight
Won’t matter when you’re dead,
Just keep it down
Eat

You say these things
Berating me, like I don’t know
Don’t understand
Don’t want to be able to just
Eat.

I dated a boy this year who was more difficult to understand than any girl I’ve ever dated. He always wanted to be with me, which isn’t a bad thing, I guess, unless you’re in school, and you’re trying to focus, and he’s starting to become controlling and clingy.
It started slow, with hugs every time I would walk to my other classes, and that was sweet. Then it grew to ten hugs in half an hour of seeing each other. And maybe it’s because I’m gay and didn’t realize it yet but he just got on my nerves all of the time.
When we had only been dating for a few weeks, he said
“I love you”
And I told him I didn’t love him back. I said it was too early and we were young and I was still figuring things out. He said
“I guess I’ll just have to keep saying it until you get used to it and say it back”
I couldn’t seem to explain to him how angry that sentence made me, or how toxic it sounded, and he continued to tell me, at least five times a day
“I love you”
I had not told my first girlfriend that I loved her, ever. I hadn’t told my second girlfriend until we’d been together for three months. I guess I should have told him then that we had to break up, that it wasn’t working. Instead, I gave in, I said
“I love you”
back to him. And that made him happy, but it made my insides coil every time I thought about him. Still, I did not break up with him. I thought I needed him for some reason. Because as much as I hated it, he did tell me he loved me, and I hadn’t heard that in a long time.
So when he began to say things like
“My girl”
Or
“She’s mine”
Or calling me
“Babe” unironically,
I let it go. I thought it’s just a show of love. When I did tell him not to call me babe, he called me that the next day. He never seemed to remember when I told him things like that.
But he did tell me he loved me, however cheap those words were. I didn’t think about the fact he’d probably said that to his other eight girlfriends before me too.
The day I broke up with him, I told him I was still trying to figure out my sexuality. He replied,
“Fine, it’s not that big of a change anyway, from pan to gay, we'll just rewrite that in the books”
And that was when I knew that I was doing a good thing in breaking up with him. Because that relationship was not healthy, and I wasn’t happy.
He and I are still friends I guess, but not really. We don’t talk anymore, and I think that was always a problem we’d had.

I have always wanted
for people to hear my voice,
But sitting alone in my bed
I’m wondering if that’s the truth,
Because I have never loved myself enough
to keep blades from my hands
and red from my wrists,
And if I could be that careless,
How can I truly want anything?

i remember
when i first went to the doctors for help
my dad took me
because my therapist had suggested I look into medication

i remember
the doctor telling me what
“the good thing about depression and anxiety is”
and i knew this man hadn’t dealt with them personally

i still remember that
because I thought it was funny that
he had the audacity to tell me
“there is something good about you always being so **** stressed and sad”

i remember
the doctor left, halfway through finding the right meds
he went to another town, another hospital, other people because why not

i remember
thinking i guess i’m not important enough
for even the doctor to stay and help
and i get that it’s not personal, but
it still feels a little bit personal

tu eres muy hermosa
asi que este soy yo solo
haciéndote saber
te quiero

te quiero más
que la luna
y yo te amo mas
que los estrellas

i do not believe in god
i haven’t for about as long
as i’ve known the easter bunny
isn’t real

still, i woke up this morning
i sat with my family
looked through easter baskets
and watched the catholic mass on tv

it is not important for me
to impose my beliefs
on my younger siblings
they’ll figure things out in their own time

still, i can’t help but wonder
why our parents believe
stories of an all-powerful god
over tales of a magical bunny

why they think letting us know
and believe in santa
or the easter bunny
is only for childhood

but we should always believe
in the man in the sky
who we can’t see, but for some reason
loves us

as far as i can tell,
it’s just another tall tale
and that’s not me telling you you’re wrong
only that i’m not sure you’re right

You love me
Like a dog loves a bone
Or a cat loves a mouse

Which is to say
You love me for a while
Until I no longer taste good

You love me long enough
To carve tooth marks into me
But not long enough for it to stop hurting

You love me
Like a tree loves water
Or the sky loves the stars

Which is to say
You love me when you need me
When I am there and there’s no one better

You love me half the time
When there’s not too much of me
When I am accentuating your beauty

You love me
Like you love yourself
Or I love myself

Which is to say
You love me sometimes
Despite all of the pain

You love parts of me
The parts that are there when I’m happy
Or when I pretend to be happy

You love me
The way you know how to
And I love you the way I do

It’s currently 5:30am,
And I’m sad again

I’m doing my homework
And wishing it made sense
Because right now
I just can’t seem to focus

My mind is bending
Every which way
Being pushed around
By a million thoughts
That mean both nothing
And everything

The worst part is
The thoughts
Are feeding each other
They’re growing
Too strong to ignore

Yesterday I sat down
In the shower
And cut my leg
On my razor

What hurt more
Was when I showed my parents
I had to clarify
That it was an accident

The best thing about life
is living
                         The worst thing about life
                         is living

My stomach aches
     Probably from all that ice cream
and my eyes burn
     Probably from all the tears
and my heart hurts
     Probably from missing you

so i’m sitting on the floor
huddled into myself
and i’m trying to cry
because i know
it’ll make me feel better

but i can’t cry right now
so instead i just feel empty

and i feel like a monster
because
who can be so sad
all of the time
yet still not cry

i keep remembering
the day you left.
the sun was in my eyes
and the light hit
my face just right, or wrong,
so i couldn’t watch you go.
i had always known
that people leave, but
i’d hoped never to feel
that betrayal from you.
pain and hurt
coursed through
my entire body that day.
because you were my love
and without you
i was lost.
i had no one left
to hold my heart
in their hands.

Sometimes I am sad,
like, really sad
And I don’t know
how else to describe it

Like, everything could be fine,
great even, and then
All of a sudden
I’m not feeling fine anymore

And then my mind goes off
to all the things I should do
But I know
I really shouldn’t

For example,
I was sitting here,
doing homework,
and it hit me all of a sudden

The thought that
I should go up to the bathroom
and purge, again,
Even though I haven’t eaten

And then I thought
That maybe I should
Go up and take my pills
Like more than the lethal dose

But then I thought
Who does that help?
Because then I’m not here
for my sisters

So then I turned
To thoughts of
blades or flames
And where I could hurt that you wouldn’t see

But then I thought of her
and how that’s not fair of me
How my mental illness impacts
everyone else around me

So instead of turning
to all of those dark things
That I use to comfort me
I decided to write poetry

What I miss most
About going to school
Is seeing your face

So I zoom with you
To get a bit of that feeling again
But it’s just not the same

Because you’re not here
You’re not with me
And I can’t lean on you

I can’t cry with you
Tell you everything that isn’t fair
Listen to you tell me it’ll be okay

I say you are beautiful and
You say “you must have low standards”
I reply, “how can you think this?”
And instead of answering
You turn to hide your face

when i sprained my ankle
i could point to where it hurt
and the doctors knew how to fix it

when i cut my face open on the pool
you could see what was wrong
and the doctors gave me stitches

when i felt sad enough to cut myself
i couldn’t find a place where it didn’t hurt
and the doctors didn’t know how to fix me

when i felt like my world was crumbling
i just told them i was sad
and the doctors gave me prozac

so now when i feel like i need help
i seem to wait too long,
like it needs to be visible to count

like i need to be in physical pain for it to count
but if it hurts when i’m sad,
why doesn’t that count too?

noun
1. an intense feeling of deep affection
   •a deep romantic or ****** attachment to someone
   •affectionate greeting conveyed to someone on one’s behalf
2. this thing, this emotion, that connects you to someone, making you care about them, worry about them, and want to spend time with them
   •it often causes you to feel things that you can’t comprehend, let alone explain
   •a complicated and beautiful emotion
3. the way i feel about you
4. a great interest and pleasure in something
5. a person or thing that one loves
   •a friendly form of address
   •used to express affectionate approval for someone
6. a learned emotional dependency stemming from parental relations and human interaction
7. a score of zero; nil or nothing
verb
1. to feel a deep romantic or ****** attachment to (someone)
   •like or enjoy very much
2. to selflessly desire the very best for a person

I am sure I first cried when I came out of the womb, not emotional crying, that came later.
When I was seven, I’d cry myself to sleep wishing my body was beautiful.
When at the age of eleven I found out my sister had harmed herself, I cried, pleading with her to stop.
When I first harmed myself, I cried, pleading with my brain to take the hurt away.
Sometimes I cry until I fall asleep because what else is there to do?
I turned 15 the day I found out my grandfather had died, and I cried, but I could not shed a tear at the funeral. I think my eyes were too dry by then.
Sometimes I cry over the stupidest things. Like if I turned in an assignment late or if my mother loves me.
I even cried when my girlfriend said she’d always be there for me, and she held me while I did.
I have not yet mastered the art of crying, because my tears always feel like too little too late, or too much too soon.

When I tell you
You are beautiful
I mean it,
But it’s okay for you to doubt
Because I know
Not everyone is sincere
And you’ve been hurt before

When I tell you
You have my heart
I mean it
More than you could ever know
Because you are the one
That makes me glad
To be alive

And when I tell you
That I love you
I mean it
And I hope you know that
Because you mean the world
And more to me
And I really do love you

I could list
a thousand things
I’ve never feared
like darkness
or death

I haven’t been
scared of blood
or of falling
since they first
entered my nightmares

But in reality
it’s hard to hide
from shadows
and all these
silent voices

And some days
I fear the stars
will hide from me
and our souls won’t meet,
but turn into lonely ghosts

there is a cleansing nature to crying
to washing your face with saltwater
when my tears flow down my cheeks
i feel a freedom in letting them go
in no longer fighting to hold them in

when a tear rolls from my eye
it first touches soft lashes
trying to hold it in, keep me clean
and then the lashes bend
make room for the water to flow

it hits my cheek softly
a release of pain, not the cause
the tear moves slowly,
traveling from cheek to mouth
and leaves behind a trail of hurt

i taste the salt and ignore the pain
the bursting feeling in my chest
my lips move as if of their own will
move the way they do as I apply glosses
letting there be no trace of sadness

after the warmth sinks into my soul
and the tightness leaves my chest
i look into the mirror
i rinse my face once more, with cooling water
dry my face and eyes again

the only thing left of the tears
is the feeling of relief on my heart
the slight tint of red in my eyes
and the knowledge that this
will not be the last time

I am telling you things
I would never dare
tell my own family

I would worry
that they would worry
about me

But I need to share
my feelings
I need to write

So I write to you
I trust you
to keep my secrets

we all have issues
especially you and i
but mostly me

i have trust issues
and body issues
and love issues

and a multitude more
but you choose
to love me anyway

and i hope only
to be able
to return the favor

I don’t know why
I’m sad sometimes.

I just am, I guess,
it’s just the way my brain works.

I don’t understand it,
so it’s okay if you don’t.

I get if you’re frustrated with me,
sometimes so am I.

All I need from you
is patience and love.

And understanding that
I am trying.

I’m trying to be happy
and trying not to be a burden.

when my depression hits,
it is all i can do
to even get out of bed in the morning

i usually stay in bed
either all day or just long enough
to decide not to **** myself

i usually don’t shower
and i hate myself more for that
but at least i don’t drown myself

i only drown in tears
if it’s one of the days
when the tears even decide to visit

sometimes i’m too sad
for even the company of tears
let alone people

but i have to be normal
so i pretend to feel normal
because then no one comments

no one mentions the dark circles
under my eyes or the way
my smile doesn’t seem to reach them

and once in a while
when my depression almost swallows me whole
i think i’ll ask for help

but i don’t ever ask
i never say anything because
then it’s real