it made no sense at all.
why did i care so much about things that shouldn't matter and don't exist at all?
why do i do this to myself?
what's wrong with me and why does it not want me alive?
sitting in these classroom chairs,
i don't know if i can make it.
i can't seem to see how or where i'll turn out.
what am i doing here?

what do i do now?
i felt like banging my head on my desk and told myself,
"moon, why do you have to be so sad all the time?"
i hate that i'm like this.
light is always taken from my eyes and every time we meet eyes,
i always feel like it'll be the last time.
because i truly don't belong here.
i've been saying this for years now and i only speak the truth.
mom,
i never told you about the time that i tried to end my life and woke up the next morning only to act like nothing happened.
dad,
i never told you the reason why i started crying at the store out of nowhere.
it's because i'm tired all the time, dad.
living beats the life out of me.
sister, brother,
i never told you how i locked myself in my room and cried so hard i couldn't breathe.
or the countless times i laid on my back and felt tears silently stream on the sides of my face.
because i'm tired of trying to make this work.

why am i here?
people keep lying to me,
saying that this will all pass and before i know it i'll smile again.
i've tried everything to get better,
to be better.
but another year has passed and i wish it hasn't.

it's my birthday.
i cried last night of the thought that i really made it another year.
the rain seemed to push me down so hard and i can't believe i'm still here.
walking with my friend yesterday,
i looked at her,
just by looking at her,
i knew that i should be here.
in that moment,
i knew i wanted to stay.
it's birthday and i'm --,
another year of breathing,
another year of crying,
another year of smiling,
another year of feeling like i was nothing,
another year of loving,
another year of me.
i don't know how to feel this year about myself yet
but
i'm here and that's all that matters.

"i know you feel uneasy about the future but i'll be right by your side."
this,
this sentence in your handwriting meant the world to me.
looking ahead of me,
it doesn't seem dark anymore.
i've learned to not value my self worth based on my grades.
this is a huge thing for me.
do you know how many nights i've spent crying because of school?
i guess it happens to everyone but i almost left the world because my grades didn't match my needs or the teachers treated me like ****.
i'm learning to push those thoughts in the trash whenever they surface,
not to the back of my mind,
in the trash.
things are Very slowly,
but surely,
going to be okay.

You don't know my name,
Or how I like my tea;
You've just seen my face,
Now you think you understand me.

I catch you staring through blurred vision
at my body from across the bar.
I remember you from last time,
when you followed me to the car.

At least, I think that was you;
but how could I know?
When you all have different faces,
and all ignore my "no".

No, I will not go home with you.
No, I will not kiss you goodnight.
No, I will not give you my number.
No, I won't give you a sight.

I will not let you hold my hips,
or let you grab my waist.
You say that my lips look delicious,
but you cannot have a taste.

I am so much more than the way I look;
but my personality, to you, is a waste.
I guess that I should just get used to
being nothing more than a pretty face.

I am bones
& blood
& dust.
I am water
& skin
& teeth.
I am physical.
I am not more.
I am empty.

My bones a cage of which the birds were let out long ago.
My heart a vessel that long since has sank.
The walls of my mind vandalized by those not invited.
My skin a cardboard box torn to shreds & left out in the rain.
It is cold here.
I am empty.

I have nothing left to give.
Nothing left to pay you with.
Please, go.

At dusk I hang up
a worn blue work
shirt that smells
strongly of love
of dirt of the earth
melancholy, sweat
yesterday's brews
the blues, regret
twenty cigarettes
black breath
of the bone moth
old blood, moon dust
spring pollen, summer
grass, Autumnal ****
winter's cold blast
sea salt and pine needles
mountain laurel, desert air
my dog's hair, I swear
I can't bear the thought
of washing or throwing away
all the stains, the growing pains
the laughter, the sorrows
these history lessons I need
to get me through tomorrow.