As it turns out,

You were just the cocoon which trapped and tested my willpower,

and you only succeeded in making me into a stronger,

more beautiful person

Without you,
I lost a part of myself.
It isn't bad in and of itself,
It left me in a place to rebuild.

Like a mildewed, forgotten bulb,
I will return with gentle care,
Shed my disease of despair,
And thrive.

Even the most seemingly damaged, dried, moldy bulb can bloom into a beautiful flower when the disease stopping it is removed.

It only took a seemingly hopeless amaryllis for me to learn this.

Why do you think that it's okay
To rip out my heart
and try to shove it back in

You were drunk?

No ******* ****,
I haven't seen you sober in
6? entire years

*******

"You're my kid, that's not an option"
Then why was it an option two years ago??
Why was it an option last Saturday?

You're not my ******* parent.


You never were.

I really didn't think that when you finally disowned me,

It would be so liberating.

Freeing.

Stress-melting.

Wonderful.


Thank you,

Jordan Matthew Jansen

**

Nighttime.
Cars light up my room.

I count.

The moon keeps me awake,
Beaconing.

I can hear you.

Telling me to do it-
Hurt me, you, them...

Everyone.

Thoughts SCREAMING.
Words begging to become actions.

I close my eyes.

Deep, deep, deep breath.
It's just a thought.

Grounded.

Soft sheets, pillows...
Moon, stars, lights.

It's quiet.

When I'm home alone,
I feel empty.
The circles under my eyes...
Bruises.
Wind carries through cracks,
Mice scratch scratch scratch scratch...

Something clatters.
Whispers?
Footsteps?!

And suddenly it's loud.
My heart pound pound pounds...
Adrenaline.
Anxiety.
Getting closer...
Quick! Grab a weapon!

I call out:
"Is someone there?!"
Silence.

And suddenly it is all quiet again.

It has only been a week since I've been out of school.




The anxiety of being alone is getting to me.

Feet on the pedals,
Crunchy Gravel.
Sunshine.

Cycling to nowhere,
Round and Round,
Without a care.

Fences and trees,
and paths and leaves.
Laughter. Joy.

Up and Down,
Back and forth,
A circular journey.

Round and round,
Over and over
and over and...

Beginning, middle, end.
Addiction, Recovery, Relapse.
OCD, Depression, Anxiety.

Cycling to nowhere.

Counting... Always... Counting.

A cup of herbal tea, maybe with some sugar.
If I feel up to it.

Maybe some soup, grilled cheese.
If I can stomach it.

Dinner. Whatever mom makes.
My only supervised meal.

Tired, all day... Every day.
Drowning in college papers.

The curves I worked so hard to get back...
Well. They're nearly gone.

Protruding hip bones,
Protruding collar bones,
Boney fingers,
Pale skin,
Fantastic figure and pretty ribs,
Cold toes and bad circulation.

Heart murmurs... Shaky breathing... Migraines... Exhaustion... Confusion... Lethargy... Weight loss

Shaking, Shaking, Shaking...
Shivering?

Gotta go make a cuppa, warm up a bit.

But... what's left for me to be healthy for, anyway?

I'll take a bath to warm up instead






Probably.

Polycystic ***** Syndrome.

As it turns out,
Once your hormones are under control,
You aren't always overflowing with emotion.

Even if you're still infertile.

Ja faz algum tempo.
Sinto saudades de todos voces.

Tudo bem?
Estou bem.

Eu sou ainda sozinho.

Mas, esta tudo bem

:-)

Ive... Been good.
Fought it out with my dad.

He knows I despise him.

Spent the night there for my brother,
Couldn't fall asleep till after four.

Got triggered.

Haven't eaten in a bit,
Got my license though.

I've been good.

Finally
I can wake up in the morning
And be okay.

And not just... Okay....
Really.
Okay.

OCD is still an
Unwelcome
Visitor

The self loathing
Is still here,
Sometimes,

But I'm really okay.
I work a 9-6 job,
Sleep regular

Talk to boys,
Argue and talk back,
Get tired

My problems aren't gone.
They're still
Very much present

But,
I'm dealing with them,
Finally

Sic itur ad astra,
Thus to the stars I will journey,
In times of grief and loss,
Through stars and galaxies,
In the fleeting warmth of the sun,
Sic itur ad astra.

Sic Itur Ad Astra.
Assim para as estrelas eu viajarei,
Em tempos de luto e perda,
Através das estrelas e galáxias,
Ao calor fugaz do sol,
Sic itur ad astra.

False words and false imagery,

Acting as if you know emotions more initmately than others.

Then you go on to describe the struggle,

Life, money, your horrible childhood,

As if you're as special as a wheat penny.

I have five.

Or, consider slam poetry.

Angry people yelling into a microphone,

Young adults in black snapping their agreement.

You sound like ***** (click, click, click).

Poets are like the people who use herbal deoderant.

They stink and nobody likes them.

I'll tell you something,

You have no more meaning or depth,

Than the glue stick I stuck to the underside of a lab table in 8th grade.

(mic drop)

Maybe I hurt myself...

To keep myself from hurting you...

With the thoughts begging to become actions...

I wonder what would happen,
If more people knew about how not cute OCD is.

If they knew about intrusive thoughts,
Thinking about killing yourself-

Throwing yourself in front of an amusement park ride,
Closing your eyes and walking into the street.

Stuck picking at your brain,
Ruining your day.

What would happen if...?
And knowing you shouldn't but REALLY want to.

It's not cute,
Love.

I don't understand.

(*******)

I ******* told you, and then you had the audacity to to say "you need to tell us when something's up" like I hadn't literally just done that.

*******.

I don't think you were ever my ******* friend and this is a final goodbye.

*******.

I'm sorry that I want to be treated like I'm not invisible.

(*******.)

But that isn't an apology to you.

(*******.)

It's an apology to myself for letting you treat me like that.

(*******)

Friends aren't only friends when it's just the two of them.

(*******)

Friends don't just want to hang out when they don't have plans.

*******.

Friends don't only care when they feel obligated.

*******!

At this point,
It's like clockwork.

I neglect to tell you something,
Because I'm scared you'll get mad,

I finally tell you,
You get mad.

And now we're not friends.
It happens with every friend I have.

Up and down,
Written in my
Own personal language,

Crossing my skin
In a sharp,
Bitter, language- personal

To me and
My skin, an
Ode to life

New year,
New me.
Or,
At least that's the idea,
Right?

I haven't really told anyone...
I've been counting calories,
Starving.
Working out.
It needs to stop,
I guess.

I'll figure it out.

New year New me.

Sounds nice.

Hey.
I sent you another text.
Maybe I shouldn't've.
I was hoping to tell you something.
I don't really know if you care but.
I ate a proper amount today for the first time in months.
Have you eaten?
You probably haven't.
That's okay.
I get it.
I think under normal circumstances you'd be proud.
I actually ate fries and shortcake today.
I forgot my meds though so it made me feel icky.
It's okay.
I even ate some chocolate.
Nearly a full meal at McDonald's.
Well...
At least half.
I gave it my best, though.
How are you?
How's your mom?
Have you eaten?
(I miss you)
How's your girlfriend?
(I love you)
What's been up?
How can I fix this?!?


I'm sorry.

Remember the clear blue sky.
Remember the beautiful flowing grass.
Remember the warm spring breeze.
Remember the early thaw.
Remember the beautiful pine trees.
Remember the exploding life.
Remember the sudden jolt.
Remember the three flips.
Remember the burn of the belt.
Remember the sound of mom hitting the roof.
Remember the NOISE.
Remember the aftermath.
Remember the thump of kicking out the window.
Remember the desperation of getting out.
Remember the worry about your sweater.
Remember the fear you had stained your dress.
Remember the grass cutting your legs while leaving the ditch.
Remember the woman who was kind.
Remember the yogurt with cookie crumbs.
Remember the cold spoon.
Remember the grey lunchbox.
Remember the blue cube ice pack.
Remember the girl who hadn't eaten it at lunch.
Remember the lie that you hadn't cried.
Remember the grey van.
Remember the white car stained red.
Remember the bus.
Remember the blood.
Remember the shattered glass.
Remember the man.
Remember the crimson paint.
Remember the scalp peeled back.
Remember the shrieking siren.
Remember the neighbors.
Remember the glistening beautiful glass.
Remember the cops.
Remember the ambulance ride.
Remember the hospital.
Remember the glass embedded in mommy's back.
Remember the doctors.
Remember the first time your blood pressure was taken.
Remember the sling.
Remember the pain.
Remember the fear.
Remember the questions.
Remember the thousands of times you told the story over.
Remember the details you suppressed.
Remember the trauma.
Remember the gasp each time the car slowed.
Remember the hands clutching the door.
Remember the death grip.
Remember the anxiety.
Remember the tears.
Remember the first time driving.
Remember the first time almost getting in a crash of your own.
Remember the fear each time you grip the wheel.
Remember the accident on your sixth birthday.

I've been waiting for hours.
Awake on adrenaline, anxiety, and caffeine.
Pure will, too, I suppose.
My heart is thump thump thumping.
Threatening to beat right out my chest.
I'm trying to decide wether to text you again.

I sincerely doubt you're asleep.

Spent the last two hours deciding.
Just waiting for you.
I've been awake more than a day.
I think I drove you away more than I thought.
That's okay though.
I accept the blame for this.
I won't say goodnight.

I promise.

If one spoiled apple can wreck the whole barrel...

How many barrels will I have to jump in and ruin until they finally  get rid of me?

Copper coil,
Condensed candy,
Ceding comfort,

cotton,
candy,
clouds.

Cyclical contentment,
Cool convenience,
Captivatingly casual.

Cotton.
Candy.
Clouds.

Clean conclusion,
Cheerless continuation,
Cultivating casualties.

COTTON!
CANDY!
CLOUDS!

It's j#st another love letter.
Tho#sands,
H#ndreds,
MILLIONS
Exactly like it.

I missed ###r text.
Sorry.
I promise,
The anxiety of realizing
MORE
Than makes #p for it.

### told me to chill.
That b#rned a little.
### know that my
ANXIETY
Is bad bad bad bad bad bad bad bad B a D.

I'm sorry for making ###
Worry.
Worryworryworryworryworry
All the letters
BL#RRING
With my tears.

We all want to be
Special.
I'm not special.
Not to ###.
Not to my best friend,
who ###'re dating.
Not to my other best friend,
###.
NOBODY.
That's why ### aren't in this poem.

Curves melting away
Numbers dropping
An obsessive measurement of worth

One food at a time
Or
Consider mixing it all together

Counting bites
Counting grains, kernels, seeds
Counting times chewed

26 waist
32 hip
5 wrist

11 neck
7 forearm
30 ribcage

17.8 bmi
16.3 body fat
98 lbs

Obsessively memorizing
Remeasuring
Plugging in numbers

Worrying if you look sick
Collar bones too defined
Hip bones jutting out just too much

Getting scared
Binging
Purging

Feeling deliciously empty
Thinking clearly
Everything fuzzy at the edge

It ain't a ******* joke

Wal-Mart at 12 a.m. is almost eerie.

Silent save the occasional shopper or manager,
Perhaps following you to ensure you don't do anything foolish.

Picking out the dumbest things just because you need to smile.

Playing with your friend in the toys, letting go for once,
Just to be chased away by management.

Losing one of the squad and looking for her.

Wandering over to the makeup, glancing at the camera,
Then picking out what you want and pocketing it an aisle over.

Going to the arcade and winning for once.

It's not a secret, you needed a win,
Plus your little sibling will love the new stuffed toy.

Seeing a random family member.

Rushing away as to remain unseen,
Knowing if your parents find out you will be dead.

The general feeling of disassociated contentedness when you finally leave.

You won't remember half of what happened anyway,
But who cares.

Shopping at night is the best.

The temptation is always hanging over me.
A cloud raining pure amber liquid,
Calling with a siren sound.

"I'll help you forget"

"I'll help you be happy"

"We can have fun"

"Make you feel nice"

"Give you back your laugh"

"Take away the pain"

"Supplement the light"


The cold silence of the night makes my nightmares so much more real.

I am alone.


"Together we will be warm"


That's right.





We will be.

Counting
Saving
Stashing.

How many will work?

Or! Maybe I can
disassemble
my Pencil Sharpener.

Or better yet,

Knit a long,
Skinny,
Scarf.

Where to hang it though?

Perhaps I could take a
Too Hot
Bath,

And sit till it's cold.

Maybe...
Weigh myself,
Until I'm satisfied

That'd do it too.

Oops.

I fu
C

ke


d

uP.

Now I'm under

lock
                 and key




wEll ****.

That awkward moment
        When



You don't even

  Know

                        Why

You

     Started cutting


Again.

3...  2... 1...
My blade pierces my skin like the shriek pierced the silence of existence on a midnight walk in which I never returned.

3...  2... 1...
My finger slides against the back of my throat in such a way as to release all of my guilt from my stomach from a day of carelessness and lack of willpower.

3...  2... 1...
I jump from the bridge similar to the way a fledgling dives from the sky for the first time, not graceful, but still coordinated enough to be considered  beautiful to those with a particular type of mind.

3...  2... 1...
My consciousness disappears in a single heartbeat, with a puff of smoke disbursing, like a drop of dew evaporating, a child's laugh ending, a life falling apart, I'm a candle being blown out.

3...  2... 1...
I am free.

You're worthless.
You can't even go a day without eating.
Even when you do you stuff your face just to puke it back up.

Why don't you just end it now?
You're ugly and no-one will ever want you.
Much less want to be with you.

You think that we made you tired?
That we are what's making you sad?
No. You did this to yourself, you worthless, ugly *******.

Why can't you be strong like the other girls?
Why don't you just quit eating and have discipline like they do?
We know it's because you're scared. You ******* coward.

Even we aren't the worst things that you deal with.
What about your little "habit?"
Be it drugs, self harm, purging, or alcohol. Just take your pick.

You deserve every little thing that's happened to you.
You'll never be enough.
You aren't worth it.

You never were.

Sincerely,
Ana & Mia

Tired...
but Beautiful

Awake...
but Still Sleeping

Alive...
but Starving

Dying...
but Slowly

Eating...
but Not Really

Ugly...
but Pretty

Staring
      Down
          Down
               Down
                    Down
Mixing
Swirling
Cutting

Making
   ­  Pretty
          Pretty
               Pretty
                    Pretty

Designs
In
Food

Breathing out a cotton candy cloud,
Vaping to slowly **** myself.
It's subtle,
Plus I always smell good.
Sliding my thumb across my blade to bring a bit of sharpness back to this dull dull life.
Chewing my lips until they're bruised and bleeding.
Laying back in the tub as the water slowly slowly slowly covers my face.
Sitting up gasping for breath.
I know I'm bi.
My dad will **** me when he finds out his baby girls kissed another girl.
Oh well.
Laying in the snow until my senses burn,
Clarity.
Staying up all night just to make myself feel alive.
Spiraling spiraling spiraling.
Out of control.

1884.

A simple number.
Four digits,
Four numbers,
Containing
1 thousand
8 hundreds
8 tens and
4 ones.


1884 calories.

A simple number.
Four digits,
Four numbers,
Containing
1 thousand
8 hundreds
8 tens and
4 ones.

7882656 joules.
Enough energy to heat 1884 grams of water by one degree Celsius per gram.
Wasted on me.

Which means to me
A day of careless eating.
Fat packing itself onto my skinny body.

A finger and some splashing.

I fixed my issue.