A suburb of hell I live in
Across the road from the picture perfect family
Small, yappy little dog who is walked every morning and night by loving husband and father of three
Next door the father who left his family to live with his gay lover downtown
Three young boys and a wife who will never understand
Behind every door is a secret
The Wilsons live a sheltered and abusive life
The man of the family is powerful
The cunninghams across from them are timid and smile to hide the bruises on their arms
Father knows best after all
My door hides the racist, the Republican, the conservative, the homophobic
My door hides the yelling of a bipolar mother off medication
The alcoholism of a child too young to drink
And the silent watch of a father trapped in a loveless marriage
Every house in this suburb of hell tells a story
None of which are happy
Yet you see my neighborhood and call me privilaged
If only you knew.

There are letters behind my name
not ones earned with prestige and degrees but ones that follow nonetheless
MDD, GAD, BPDII, ADHD, OCD, hEDS
defining traits of my mental
and while they label they don't add any value to my life
in fact they do the opposite
they hinder every moment
every thought
every action
every task it takes a village

---I hate asking for help

I'm starting this new life
new town
new job
better fiends
I'm building myself up and you're still demanding a roof with no foundation
you're complaining about the lack of paintings but you don't have any walls to put them on
I've given you all the materials that I can
It hurts me to know that you wont be with me the same way on this journey anymore
seventeen years of growth has changed us both
and while I'm terrified to go without you
I know you will hold be back
I am excited to see how far I can go by only taking care of myself

I will always be your best friend

--I think you stopped being mine awhile ago

If I could redo my life
I would change more than I probably would be able to
I would pursue the arts
As my heart has always felt at home on the stage
I would listen to everyone who told me I was worth more
I would take more time for myself
I would stop trying to please everyone
I would read more books
I would go on more night walks
I would keep in touch with more people
I would be kinder and softer and more understanding
But most of all
I wouldn’t be me

  --Experience and Regret make a person

I painted my face today and did not seek your validation
I did not think of your words telling me that I look better without it
I did not argue back saying I wore it because I liked it
We did not end the fight with me wiping my art off my skin
I wish it was because you finally learned to accept my fondness of the result
Rather than the reality that you are no longer here.

If it was sunny outside, her eyes didn’t show it. The darkness in them was glazed over leaving every light that touched them turn to a dull void. It was as if her mind was a black hole and the opening in which it was seen was her eyes. None the less, they were beautiful. I had never noticed brown eyes to hold such beauty. I had always grown tired of mine- plain, boring, simple. Brown eyes didn’t have the many shades of blue I often found myself intoxicated with. Those elaborate patterns of greens, whites, gold, and silver hiding behind delicate lashes. Yet hers, they were so intricate. The depth at which they fell, the richness of the chocolate was like breathing for the first time. I guess I hadn’t realized how much I needed that air until I found myself drowning in her eyes. That is how I discovered love for the first time.
            She held my gaze only for a second. I guess it could have been an eternity. Time is a funny thing. It is always here, it is always gone, and it is always coming. In a way, there could be an eternity in a second. In one second life could change. I baby is born, a man has died, a new species is discovered as another goes extinct.  All I know is that in that one second, in that one, single eternity- life was changed for me.  I knew at the exact moment that I would never be the same. I had found the one person that could make my life feel meaning again, and in that moment it was taken away.
             I know that many people would tell me that I am being ridiculous. I know that they will tell me that there are so many other fish in the sea. But you see, I’m not looking for any fish- I’m looking for a clam. All I’m looking for is my simple clam, but there is the secret. When you open up a clam, there is the possibility of a gem. The most shining, pristine pearl could be waiting inside. All you have to do is find it.

  --An attempt at writing romance:
       From my high school years

I've been letting these feelings of complacency linger for awhile now
avoiding the process of acknowledgement like it's an overused hobby in my freetime

and it's rare for me to act--
instead I diminish and allow myself to curl in on myself
rather than facing head-on the things I fear

I am weak like that--
weathered down by time like a stone in a creekbed until my sharp edges are smooth--
only good for skidding above the water and sinking down below--
my obtrusive nature nonexistent,
only useful to those searching for me

but I've been sitting here complacent--
letting the rushing of the currents wear me down,
and I find I am tired of it's constant freezing presence
sitting beneath the crystal waters--visible to those searching for my stone,
waiting for the helpful hand of someone brave enough to seek me out
waiting to fit perfectly in the palm of their hand

and maybe I'll find that I've found purpose again.

I'm playing Uno with God
And they keep hitting me with a draw four.

I want to pack a bag, step outside, and walk
I don’t know where—I don’t have a destination,
Never have
I just want to walk and escape life for a little while
But I can’t do that
I have bills and jobs and people and animals depending on me
I was supposed to know who I was by this point
Instead my soul endlessly wanders without my body’s company
Reaching conclusions with flawed logic
And I know healing is not linear,
But all I’ve ever done is walk forward
and I’m still unsure of where I am and where to go from here

I know staying here much longer can affect my progress
but Mania feels the same as getting better and while I'm ready for better,
I'm scared of good
of the fix
that the stitches I've placed will start tearing out again

I’m scared
And I hate to say that about myself
Because I have lived in a sense of false security for so long
Reliant on others because I can’t be reliant on myself
And I’ve developed this system of ignore, persist, and repeat
And I think its slowly draining me

There are moments when I can forget that my life is the way that it is
Self-medicating to prevent the anxiety from creeping up into my throat
Turning off the big light to blind myself from all the ugly pieces of me that I am ashamed of seeing
It is my instinct to believe that something is wrong with me

And I’ve never been good at being alone
Though I crave it all the same
When I am alone I can breathe in the darkness
Veiled by the idea that running away will one day have to stop

But I still find my legs striving towards to finish line
Try as I might take my time to get there
The idea of just completing the race urging myself forward
A success where I have never had any before

I am trying
And I am healing
And I know that it is not linear
I know I have many more obstacles ahead of me
But I think the want may finally outweigh the hatred and shame

Today and group we talked about super powers
I've always talked about wanting to freeze time but I've never really asked myself why
I think I'm scared of the world moving on without me
that I'm running out of time to make an impact
that I'll be forgotten
I have issues with abandonment
I feel alone

If I could stop time I'd be able to travel,
see the world without the craziness or commotion of everyday life
I think I just want a break
here I was given a break,
someone else to take care of me for a while this place is like stopping time
only the world is going on without me
I don't know if I'm ready to go back

I blame it on a lot of things
The timing was wrong
We had different goals
The spark was gone
We just weren't on the same path
I blame a lot on outside forces
I should own up though
I only spoke when spoken to
Only hung out when asked
Never me being the one to iniate contact
I distanced myself
Emotionally
Physically
Mentally
I was our ruin
As with every relationship I've been in
I am my own downfall

I asked and you answered
One thing on your bucket list
An act I have since put on mine
Go to a castle
And sit on the throne

I had to take a CPR class last september.
and my instructor told us we learn this
to save lives because everyone has a reason
for living
going around the table he asked us why
we were alive
family
friends
people that anchor us to the world
all the answers you would expect
for someone who was asked why they were still
alive
but when he asked me I told him I didn't have reason
how was I supposed to say that mine is spite?

Everything about me dwindles down to this
broken body, mangled branches, rivers of blood
I am nothing more than true unbridled feeling
and sometimes that scares me

I feel stupid
humiliated
embarrassed rather than chagrined
and I want to cry like a child who has lost their favorite toy
I am a downfall unto myself

but I cannot scream
and I cannot cry
because doing so would be admitting defeat--
even if it would give me some relief

I feel like I'm in a constant fight to prove myself
where previously I would have been given grace
I find I am given none,
even with it being my name

They told you
you had changed since you met me
of course I believe that to be true too
I've changed since I met you too
But of course over two years you would be different
who wouldn't be?
change of school, jobs, life plans
the only constant here was me
so fingers were pointed at the only thing that stayed the same about you
and I had no say at all

I don't think I've ever been satisfied with my life
I don't think I ever will be until I am nothing but dust
See I crave death in the way others dont
I don't want to go to heaven or hell or spend my life somewhere in between the two
I would be so bored
bored of "eternal piece"
bored of "eternal pain"
routine, mundane, eternal
never changing, predictable
I would loathe a forever like that
I crave reincarnation
I crave growth and new experiences and new adventures and new perspectives
I crave what I cannot get in this life
or the next life or the next life after that
I crave knowledge and empathy and ignorance and spite
I crave the ever-changing unknowable world that our bodies live in
I will never be satisfied

You told me once that you
were lost and just needed
to feel things out but
your hands had been broken

Sharing my poetry with the world is terrifying
It's like I'm showing a part of myself that I'm still afraid to admit exsists
I dont know what it is about having others read my writing that is both thrilling and absolutely petrifying at the same time

I think I missed something
I think I was supposed to have a hiccup in my aging where I partied and went crazy
college right?
high school?
my 20's?
I think I missed it.
I think I went straight from being a child to
a 65 year old lady who goes to bed early
with bad eyesight and who wears cardigans in
90 degree heat beause you're always cold when you're old
I think I missed it

The trepidation I've felt has begun to settle somewhere other than my chest
I've been known to be reluctant with change, especially with myself
this change is good but unfamiliar
I can't decipher the medium --that steady baseline people are supposed to have with their emotions
so they are keeping me for observation
like we do with a sick fish at work
my sick is in my mind
it's harder to diagnose--
unseen and masked--
hidden and shameful;
here, I've begun to forgive myself

The groups seems to bring out emotions I'm not fond of facing alone
and these people make me feel safer than my own family
but although the depression is lessening,
its cousin anxiety has settled in somewhere deep in my gut
sending shockwaves to my fingertips
I fidget
I disassociate
I crave desertion
but I've been running
and I've been hiding from the skeletons seeping their way out my closet
bony metatarsals and phalanges fiddiling with the lock
it will rust soon enough
I don't know if I'm ready for the break

It's rejection

And loss

The slow realization that everyone who meets me expects me to change


I find myself alone

Guarded

Knowing that every time I open up to someone

They eventually leave


And in losing everyone else

I'm slowly losing myself



--and my mind

Like a child,
I play pretend
I run and hide from the monsters
unlike a child
I have no one to check under the bed
in the closet
behind the door
I live alone
and find comfort in that
but I cannot be my own caregiver
the difficulties in my wants are oxymoronic what I want and what I need are playing tennis
the ball constantly bouncing back-and-forth face and conquer
or fear and cower
the match has yet to end

-- they are undefeated in their own fields

A dusty grey gritty feeling has always been in my lungs from choking back words and impulse I'd be admonished for breathing

It took years of practice to craft the smog into a milky then translucent expected response: appropriate ---Instead of one lacking tact

But with you
I falter

I dont demand respect a lot
I'm not the kind to hold my position above others for control
But I do demand human decency

It sent shivers through his body;
he sought warmth in the sharp tang of the whiskey
no matter how much he drank though, he was still cold--
the only burning in the back of his throat,
in his stomach,
as he tried to not *****.
strange too, was the burning of his hands, of his forehead;
ghosts of her soft touches from earlier in the day
they calmed him then
why weren’t they calming him now?

I don't think I can have children
I've always thought that I was infertile
It never really bothered me
I never wanted to go through that pain, those long nine months of probably bed-rest if my family's history of pregnancy is anything to go by--
My mother wasn't supposed to be able to have children
My sister is infertile
The girls in my family don't typically do well with pregnancy
So I was never phased by the idea that I wouldn't have my own flesh and blood running around
I'd have much rather adopted or fostered children who need homes and love
But when you
after years saying you didn't want your own kids
admit to me that you want your own flesh and blood children
It crushed me
I don't think I can have kids
Never really wanted them before
But I would do anything to give you that wish

I can't be there for you if you push me away
too bad for you though,
I'm quite stubborn with things that I love
You're dating a force to reckon with

I hold these superstitions dear to me
knowing they're nonsense and choosing to ignore that reality
I step cautiously over the cracks in the sidewalk on good days
and on bad ones I stomp on every one hoping you feel the pain that I do
I know you don't deserve it mother, but my feet land on them still
I still throw spilled salt over my shoulder
hoping that maybe this time some luck will come of it
and I avoid walking under ladders if not for safety's reason than for those years of bad luck
Believe me when I say that I know these petty rituals won't affect an invisible force like luck
But I wear my night shirt inside out and backwards thinking that somehow it will cause snow to appear
These superstitions of mine may be childish
It may be downright insane for any sensible young woman to believe in such a thing
But I hold onto this childish hope that maybe
just maybe
If I do enough of these superstitious acts
that my life will finally turn around
and for once I will be lucky....

I always thought that I
was the protagonist of my story,
why then, are you trying
to make it about yourself

I dont like confrontation.
In fact I will do almost anything to avoid it if I can
Thats probably what makes me a good manager-- because I'm able to diffuse a situation before it becomes one
That's also probably why I let the trash pile up on the patio for weeks until we recieved an eviction notice
Because I'm scared of confrontation

I'm scared to tell you it hurts me that I've done the dishes the last 3 times because you wont put in a maintenance request to fix the dishwasher but I can't because you want to be here when someone comes.
I'm scared to tell you I hate that I'm the only one who takes out the trash because you ***** and gag if you touch a trash bag
Well I'm gagging too, but it has to be done because we're adults.
I'm always so happy when I come home and find the trash to be gone only to open the pantry and find the bags there. Only to open the balcony door and find the trash there.
Now that I think about it, you always complain that you'll throw up if you do it and I think that's a form of gaslighting.
I'm scared to tell you that instead of buying supplies to make cobbler when we had no food in the house, you should have bought basic materials to eat or god forbid a plunger because your toilets been clogged for 3 weeks and you have to use mine.

I'm scared to tell you I hate your rabbit and the fact that it chewed up 4 of my phone chargers, my echo plug, my laptop cord, vaccum, and is now tearing up my carpet. Oh also the fact that it's YOUR rabbit and I had to buy you hay when you were running low, but you could buy another fish tank we dont have room for.

I'm scared to tell you these habits of yours are bothering me because you're no longer lucid and I think you're slightly addicted---but everytime your boyfriend brings that up you complain.

I'm scared of confrontation. So tonight I made 4 trips to the dumpster at 2am filling my car up with garbage bag after garbage bag because I was embarrassed of how much trash we had and I didn't want the neighbors to hear or see.

I told you I was doing it at that time expecting your help, but instead you told our guest you'd waited all day for me to do it and took a trazodone and fell asleep.

Tomorrow I can already tell I'll have to wear my braces and use my cane.

Tomorrow I'll wake with baggy eyes from a sleepless night of anger of frustration of worry of tears from the fear that comes with the confrontation of the text I sent you asking you to please take out the last of the 3 trash bags by the door.

I'm waiting for the excuses.

And I want to mark you as my territory like how girls mark theirs in Bobby pins on bathroom sinks

I fought with you the other night
the tears on my face trying desperately to wash
away the demeaning words you threw at me
an embarrassment to you
a *** who will never be anything more
I have to keep telling myself that this is gas lighting
this is abuse
this is you making yourself feel better
because I have to believe that I am so much
more than you limit me to be
after all
if I can't believe in myself
who could?

You know those times
at three A.M.
when you walk into the bathroom
look in the mirror
and you don't recognize the face looking back at you?

I write because I cannot speak
cannot say out loud what I try to convince myself isn't true
I write and I bleed
thoughts and emotions
wet and raw and /there/
warmth slips down my face in a shaky line
I won't wipe
won't acknowledge is there
I'll look you in the eyes
splayed open
/bleeding/
     /real/
and avoid thinking about how the last time I showed these gorey parts of myself to someone else they left
/they left/
and they had /promised/
does it scare you too?
To know of the power you hold over me?
I try and I try and I try
And I still come out not knowing better
Hindsight saying I should have listened to my instinct
But I fight against it every time
I make the same mistakes again and again
Because I still have hope
Does that make me foolish?

I used to think you had to be worse to go in patient
and then my three days turned to ten
and everyone else had come and gone four times over
and nursing students were assigned to me to be thier case study
I didnt realize they weren't assigned to everyone
I'm in outpatient now
and the social worker is telling me that I was in patient for a long time
this I have had to come and accept
I was a lot worse than I thought

and people wonder how you get to that place
to neglecting yourself to the point of decaying
I can't explain it to you
I wouldn't want anyone to understand
if you do, then you should be here too.

As a child I was demure
obedient
restricted
uniformed schools and stuffy churches
expectations on how a person should be and act ingrained into my life from conception

I watched as others blossomed
allowed to grow in the faith and in their family
expectations a guide book they were more than eager to follow
I sat in the corner quiet and meager and scared of taking up too much space
there was a slot my peg was supposed to fit into
and maybe I did, but not in the way that it mattered

I saw the way my sisters fought with my mother
harsh words and violent tantrums
I felt the tension in the air and I never wanted to cause that

to this day I'd say I'm the same way
a peacekeeper and people pleaser
doing what I think I should do for others
as it changes how others see myself

I am kind
and I am gentle
and I am punctual
and I am tactful
but I am selfish
and I want
and I want
and I want

and there's a part of me that is scared to flourish
afraid that if I let myself be myself then I will hurt those around me I have spent so long trying to protect
I still try to fit into a mold that I have repeatedly cracked,
and when I look in the mirror I understand that everything I am built this figure

striking outfits and sharp bold black images marring my body
I am loud and unapologetic in the comfort of my own home
I am her when I am surrounded by my friends
but I know the truth and am skilled at wearing many faces
I still change the mask with every phone call to my mother
with every smile I flash at work
with every doctor's visit and strangers on the street

I'm still demure
and obedient
restricted and uniform
The image I'm projecting a direct reflection of my fears
I'm still the same child who was scared of rocking the boat
and I'm not quite sure how I feel about that

The funny thing about most toxins
Is that you can have them in small amounts without any consequence
It's only when
You sit in it long enough,
Injest it so many times--
That you get sick

she told me setting boundaries is being kind to myself
and I've never really been good at that
being kind that is
I will cower and fade to the detriment of myself  before I will admit that this is decidedly unhealthy

but I'm trying to do better
be better I mean
as a person I call myself cruel to be kind
as I know my mind better than anyone else's
and I know that it is condescending at best

but she tells me to be gentle
treat myself with patience and grace
but I have never liked my name

I don't know if fear exists in the absence of courage or it is accompanies it with a hand on its back
leading it into the forest among all the beasts that lurk there

I don't know if forgiveness should be this contractual obligation that it is in my mind
a softness I rarely allow myself to feel
and while you cannot **** me in a way that matters
I will still feel the blade forcing itself further
the sharpness a stinging not unlike lightening
a gripping of my heart in a too tight hand

she tells me to breathe
a laboring shaky breath that allows air into my lungs once again
the hollow void of the knife leaving behind a scar I cannot be rid of
a reminder of weakness in the face of a wicked beast

she tells me to be kind
to forgive myself for something I shouldn't have to forgive
and well,
I'm not very good at that part

I keep waiting for the other foot to drop
waiting for someone to tell me that this
dream that I'm in is too good to be true
I know I should wake up but that would
mean facing a nightmare
I keep waiting for everything going
right in my life to laugh in my face in
disbelief that I fell for the joke that my life
could be anything worth living
I'm flicking my eyes to the corners and
shadows of rooms expecting the cameras
to come out any day now
Reality is so entertaining;
my failure and strife amusement to others
I'm waiting but nothing is coming
I haven't heard any hands on doors pounding
any car engines start running
any heavy breathing approaching to boast that this if fake
For once in my life things are going right

I am happy

I am living

I am happy that I'm living

   ---5 Years ago I wouldn't have believed you

I'm afraid my loudness was too much for you
My openess in my happiness that you provided me
Looks screaming at eachother so loudly from across the room people felt like they were witnessing something they shouldn't
I guess now It will only be me looking at you that way
I guess now....
I will love you quietly
From the sidelines
Aching silently
Waiting

I coughed and I choked up sea water
My feelings for you bursting through my throat so quickly my nostrils and lungs were full
It burned
This love, this salt is rough and course and tears through my chest
You taught me love can be painful
I'm still learning to accept that

For as long as I can remember
I believed that I would die young
I'm still here
Age twenty
And I still wonder
If death will show it's face soon
I've tried to meet him many times
Clearly he's avoiding me for a reason then
If I am still here
I'm still here
Death,
I'm still here

In this moment it all feels subdued
in the quiet light of the moon who has known me my whole life
The darkness that blankets me with comfort rather than fear
The knowledge that life
At least for right now
Is meaningless

It stays, it stays, it stays this way--
Close in the dark; words huddling and wrapped in the eager cavity of your chest
Using ribs as lap bars hoping to keep this feeling there---
Trapped until it heals you
Too long has past since your heart felt love like this
And you fear if it leaves the ride prematurely, it will be to afraid to try again

--Your heartbeats are sounding over the roaring in your ears that this could fall apart again