Entry ~
You were the first man that ever broke my heart. It was the day I was born. You held me in your arms and made me a promise that would rip us both apart. You promised to love me unconditionally from the start. But time passed and over the years those words faded from your heart. In the presence of a war when you had one foot out the door. There are vacancies in my memories where a father should have played a part. Like teaching me to drive a car, or telling me don't believe boys that say I love you from the start. Instead, I looked at every boy with tears in my eyes and willingly accepted every single lie, thinking maybe if I part my thighs they'll learn to love how broken I am inside, but they never do. Just like you they leave without a single clue and I'm left alone, used, wishing my daddy would have loved me too. And I'm not writing this to blame you, or break you, or tell you I hate you. I've made mistakes too. Ones deeply rooted in my relationship with you. And I get that maybe you didn't have a clue that your daughter was struggling in the world without you. But I relied on you to set the standard for boys I would let into my heart. By the time I was sixteen, I felt like a tortured piece of art. I learned to love myself of course. Over the years of ripping myself apart I learned to chart the darkness in my own heart. I don't blame you anymore for my broken parts. I'm healed from being angry at you. I'm writing this to tell you I'm sorry for failing you, and I'm sorry you failed me too.

The sort of home you want to be in,
When all you can focus on are the buttons of his suit,
Tightly woven into the fabric, brand new

Is not the same house you were in when he was alive

Its 3 AM staring at the floor, begging for the sleep to take you,
Anywhere
Even nightmares are better than this, nothing.

The solemn stares churn my stomach,
Somersaults with acid, my body lurches
Doubling over in the pain that is grief.

When the eyes in a room all fixate on you,
It's difficult to hide in a box inside your own head,
Because they tear the walls from your fragile shelter,

And their rain is a burning flame,
You are the match that refuses to be put out,
But wants desperately to feel nothing.

The sort of home I want to be in is
Roses, the thorns cut clean from the stem,
Green tea, just the right temperature
And an old console with his favorite game loaded up

But that house is abandoned,
Left like last week's sawdust,
Swept under the rug in a pile of books,
And i am the can of kerosene in the corner of the room,

Waiting to be used in the most vile of ways.

I am an unlit candle in the midst of a hurricane,
The shadow of the night sky blotted out by the moon
I am the fading smile of remorse,
The pang of guilt,
The sorrow of loss

I am the broken inside of you,
The one that eats away at you until the shell is broken apart
And you are all that's left
In the dictionary, i look up sad and expect a picture of me,
Depressed is myself in my room, alone
Suicidal is the knife i once picked up,

Daring to question if my own beating heart was worth the blood

My House is boarded windows and jail cells,
The crawlspace of cobwebs and creaking stairs,
The leaky roof and patchy ceilings

I am all but a finished mess,
And my foundation is cracked and split.

There is always vacancy,
Because who wants to stay in a house like that?

I’d rent out the rooms, but i'm paying for their rent
if they choose to live inside these decrepit walls

I only wish someone would see the shambles
As a start, and not the leftover parts from a failure,

If these 4 walls housed opportunity,
Instead of destruction.

My house, is a home that i long since enjoyed.

Have you of no honor?

Life is a battleground,
there are wins and losses.,
wrongs and rights,
strengths and weaknesses.

Life is a free-for-all.
Might you make an alliance,
beware of distrust and deceit.

Some choose to fight with honor and valor.
Some choose to fight with underhanded tricks.

There are no written rules, but unspoken ones.
Do not strike a person when they are down.
An unspoken, clearly indicated rule.

Then why, do I ask, do you continue to strike me?
I'm down, done for, and yet you still continue to hit me.

I can't ask for help,
I can't fight back.

So recently,
I was reminded of a sad incident,
where I cried in public,
where I was comforted.

In a discussion,
the topic was brought up.

And you know what the said?

"Oh yea it was funny."

What
the
****.

What in god's name is wrong with you?

I cried my heart out because of you.

And you know what you said after that?

"I was trying not to laugh."

I don't cry for attention.
I don't cry to be wanted.
I cry because something happened.

My mom used to say,
"Don't cry, you'll leave permanent tears on your face."
As a young child, I didn't understand.
My brother objected, smug and saying, "That's not true, tears can dry up."
My mom just smiled and said, "I hope you don't see it when you're older."
Now, I didn't understand, and I sided with my brother.

As the years went on, I could feel what others thought of me.
I could finally feel their glares and recognize the harsh meanings behind their words.
I slowly backed away, but no one noticed.
If they did, they were fine with it.

Being a "wretched outcast",
I looked for new shelter.
A new environment where I could feel safe.
I never made it to the promised land.

When I finally gave up,
I cried.
I poured out my feelings on paper,
my pain filled into countless notebooks.

When I look into a mirror,
I finally see it.
The permanent tear tracks.

All my life,
I'd been a sweet girl,
an eccentric girl,
a caring girl,
a passionate girl.

Your little girl
is on the edge of insanity,
fueled by desperation
and loneliness.

Your sweet, loving girl
is crying her heart out.
Her tears the byproduct
of their actions.

Their laughter,
sneers,
humiliating words,
and obvious glares.

I used to laugh until I cried,
but now I just cry.
I cry and cry and cry.
I hate it, waking each morning to a soggy pillow.

I'm sorry,
but your sweet little girl is gone.

I can't do it anymore,
I just can't.

My front has finally cracked,
and I can't take it.

I'm almost completely numb,
the only thing left is emptiness.

The realization of being truly alone has finally hit me,
right in the heart.

It's not settling in either, no,
instead every time I think of it, it hits me as hard as the first time