It's been a while since I vented about my life. So here it goes. I have been severely depressed for years, and go through daily anxiety attacks that leave me sobbing and alone in my apartment. I can't think of anything that could make me happy right now and that is very scary. I ty to reach out to people but its so freaking hard to get the amount of support I need and it's exhausting. I try so hard to make myself better and I don't feel like I have any control over myself because of my emotions and how they are so severe and make me panic and cry my eyes out hoping it will somehow stop in my brain. Ive been close to those disturbing thoughts. It started with me realizing my bank account is close to 0, and I somehow thought having take out was okay almost every other day. I miss being able to talk to people in person but even then I had so much anxiety, too much that I couldn't even bare it. I was utterly destroyed that I couldn't enjoy all my time with my best friend. My life has gone so down hill since Ive been associating with people that hurt me, and I end up alone and finding myself in agonizing chronic pain and nothing could stop it. I miss my animal, I am so ******* sad he passed. I miss being able to hold him, and it comforted me. That also makes me feel awful because that sounds so selfish, but at the same time my animal loved me too and I miss his healing energy. I feel absolutely insane writing this, and I wish I knew what has gotten into me. It begins to worry me. My memory issues. Everything worries me. My chronic pain. My dental issues. Everything is stuck in my mind and I cant just get it out of my head. I hate it and it doesn't allow me to appreciate my life, and that makes me feel ungrateful. I do have my own space, I am away from negativity and I am working on myself but I can't help but cry and feel destroyed over my illnesses ruling my life, ruling my brain, ruling everything I do.

Hi baby girl. I figured I would type you up a letter instead. I just wanted to imagine that you're here and I am reading this to me while I cuddle up to you. My life has been extremely hectic filled with emotions. I want to thank you for being there in whatever way you could. You are so talented and beautiful. I really think its hot that you have all the skills and artistic value. I want to see you play live one day. I think you grew a lot with me at least knowing triggers. Even if things go crashing down I still want to hold your hand and be next to you. Its very difficult to have this seperation and it makes me sad most of the time. I tell my self it's going to happen. You so gorgeous babe, I'm proud to have you.

I see rivers
Washing away the left over dust
Ashes within the air
The world is on fire

I see dandelions
Blowing up into the air
Endless wishing, wanting, yearning
Where will the remains end up?

I see eyes
That genuinely smile back at me
That clenches my heart and surrounds me with warmth
All at the same time
But where will this end up?

I see you
Holding me bare flesh and flesh
As you embrace me with your touch
But hold on...
Do you want to be with me?

I see myself
Holding my heart with my hand over my chest
Unable to realize what I have lost
Was it even there?

I see an endless dialogue
Filled with angst, resentment, despair
As you tell me...
"I've been thinking"
"No, I don't want to be with you"

I see gifts
Left in the graveyard of my small chaotic room
They were meant for something, someone, me
These gifts are memorials of the memory
Of you.

I feel you, beloved
You are still there within distances and the faint memory of your smell
I can't help to love you
But these memories are here to withstand
The jolting realization

"I don't want you. It ends here"

Second Person Narrative
© Cynthia Eli Theo

                                       Basement Studio

You always told me I would be a good girl; locks that shine golden red fall upon my pale dimpled cheeks. (Smile little girl, we are taking your picture). As soon as the set is over you plop down to the couch and say “Baby, why don’t you get me a cold beer” and you then start clicking away at the television trying to find the loudest, most obnoxious channel. Even though my legs are weak and my body is bruised you still make me a slave for you. You say, “Hey what’s taking you so long? I don’t pay you for nothing!” and laugh in a tone that makes me think of driving a sharp knife through your worthless body part, that you pride so much. Your eyes lock instantly to this one commercial of a guy feeding his panting dog, you chuckle lightly.
You told me I would love this experience, that it would be professional and beneficial for my career. Every night you roll into bed with a smirk of content and feel as though you are successful, you are powerful; you are the proudest photographer and most of all: you have a young girl at your side, every single day of your most pathetic life. Before you fall asleep you immediately think about the door. Is it locked from the inside? We don’t want your sweet little girl escaping to the harsh cold world. You think you are protecting me. You think that I deserve this.
This night is different from most nights. You sigh, and then begin to have a pain in your chest and your mind becomes full. Images of your life start flashing in your mind. You then start thinking in your head (something you don’t often do). You think of your mother, the one that kicked you out when you were only fifteen years old. You still have plans of going back there and giving her a piece of your mind (if you have one). You think of Tony, the slob who always has some random food on his shirt who owes you thousands for the stuff you have given him during the years. You think about tomorrow, the photos you want to take of me, and the poses you want to put me in. I’m your little doll, your little play thing, I’m the one who is going to make you big in the industry. Will this achievement, help your tragic pathetic life? We all have problems, but why put this out on me? Does my pain give you a rise? Does this make you feel accomplished? Of course my voice will never be heard, my mouth is only good to turn people one. I know that when I wear red lip stick (the signature of my character), you stop for a second and think of your baby sister, because when she was a little girl she use to wear your mothers shoes and put bright red lip stick on her lips and smudge it all over her teeth.
You miss her; you often worry about whether or not she’s okay. You remember the times you use to play with her in the back yard, ***** tires being swung, wet soggy grass between your toes, burnt red skin and warm kool-aid. Here you are being successful and she’s in the streets, probably selling her body for a profit. You then think, maybe you are wrong for keeping this innocent girl here, you suddenly become human with emotions. But then you go back to convincing yourself that it isn't that bad, I wanted it. I came to you anyway. You then softly fall asleep; your worries don’t bother you. Tomorrow your plans entail tying me up and allowing a little blood to show.

© Sid Eli Theo
Please meet me now
I forever want to see your pretty face
Because beauty is within my eyes and I see you
as this pretty thing

Tell me more, I want to hear your voice
as you say out loud you aren't even
ready
I ignore it and still look at you with gleaming eyes
I want a kiss

I put my arms around you
And ask what do you think I am thinking
As I hold on tight
And go in for the kiss

But you push away and say no.

No. Is my answer.
I am not a pretty little thing.
I am someone looking for something
to connect with this feeling
that life is ending soon
and we are all just souls
holding on to the edges of the melting ***
looking for sincerity.

Learn boundaries folks, no one wants a pushy creep.

© Cynthia Eli Theo
At age of 26, I finally found my fix
It was a chick, with a crazy haircut (you thought I was going to say d*ck)
and imitation chucks

The intimate moments
Hoodie up , fake fur, against the wall.
The moment I saw you, was our first kiss.
As requested:
"I always wanted to kiss someone as soon as I laid eyes on them"

Wish granted.
****.

I remember in the gay bar, when you first called me ***
You were so accommodating
Ending with the night of a three way dance off on the dance floor, me in the middle of the
sandwich.

Can you imagine what happened with us later on in life?
That twisted dreams became a reality and it
became hurt.

You swore you were a God(dess)
with no dresses
or heels
Only messed up hand me downs
And no eyebrows

I looked back on logs and you said the "I love yous" and "be mine" within the first moments.
Reflecting on my thoughts
How CRAZY.

You were my love
and I was yours
we were infinity infamous

Mental illness
Cheating
Drug Abuse
Insecurities got a hold of our throats
Slitting us apart
Self blaming; It's all my fault.
I created this disaster, right?
Baby, do you hear me?
Boy do I blame myself for this mess-up
Bat-**** crazy relationship chaotic lovely ****** energy
Lack thereof.

Lip locking, hair pulling, scratching
Enter warmth and lovingly caressing
Screaming out "I love you!" but "I'm hurting"


"Shut up" was your last words.
I decided it was enough.
as Do you still have my letter?
I wrote it to you, with personal wetness of tears shedding
as you peacefully slept on my bed.

And now you sit still in your room
Itching away, crawling up the walls
as I type this poem on my lonely laptop
I reach out to you, blowing you a kiss

Hoping it was a never a goodbye.

She sighs with relief but also despair. The reason why she doesn't like her strawberry blonde curls and requirement to dress feminine are reasons beyond comprehension for her. She always felt that something deep inside her wanted to be Ben. He's Irish, filled with charisma, independent success and sure knows how to wear a thin gold chain. He gets the looks as he walks down the city streets and everyone memorized by his swag. He sings about the pacific northwest with extreme pride, and describes Seattle hip-hop community, human rights issues and major league baseball. She wanted to get fitted flannels, various colored slacks, suave kicks and shave the side of her hair.

While she was going through an abusive relationship when her lover had fallen to a secondary abuse (to only replace the first one), she listened to his words, we are not alone and things are ****** up but there might be a way out. The memories of going down the block during who knows what time, to smoke her pipe and dodge people completely. Endlessly walking down the streets and pondering....blank. Anxiety slowly creeping as she knows her partner is coming home, a full panic sets in and she isn't prepared for whats to come. It's laundry day, which means X amount of time for her to get angry with me, argue and sit there with emotional chaos. It is hard for her to think of these things because she didn't want to believe this was her reality, and she didn't know how to get out. She had bruises on her body that she can't keep track if it was to get away or not, she never set blame on anyone causing them.  Endless nights of constant panic and worry, with her partner slamming out the door and walking around aimlessly and never returning. And when she was alone...totally encapsulated, bed ridden and locking up the doors. Rent was day was always a threat, and so was the debt she had owed me. Oh, and that promise ring that never came that she was so selfish to want, but she wanted to feel special, she wanted to feel loved. She wanted to know why this kept happening to her.

Nothing could make this feeling go away, because the same thing has happened again and she cannot bare to compare. The hopes of rebuilding are there. It's just that mental illness is getting in the way.

She notices she passed out while smoking, turns on her PC and starts another shift.