I have the table arranged perfectly, with two lit candles.
I’m wearing a long beautiful blue dress, it’s his favorite color.
The dinner is ready, I decide to sit at the table and wait.
I wait for hours; the food is cold.
He isn’t coming home, it’s just me at this table.
I knew he wouldn’t, he’s been dead for 3 years.
It’s my birthday though, we always had dinner together on my birthday.
I miss him.

6 years old
loves barbies
plays outside
learning to ride a bike
shes getting taller

9 years old
loves chapstick flavors
walks outside
rides her bike everywhere
she is the tallest in her class

14 years old
loves mascara
runs outside to burn off the cupcake
bike sits alone
she is the biggest in her class

16 years old
loves black
runs lines down her arms, she doesnt see the sun
she drives around for hours thinking about everything but nothing
she is shrinking

18 years old
loves loneliness
runs and runs and runs from herself
she drives around hoping that she will be strong enough to make it home
she is breaking
slowly

20 years old
loves skipping meals
goes running until she feels like she's going to pass out, then runs another mile
she drives around thinking about her suicide attempt and thinks about heading home
she doesn't even know if home is a place or a feeling or if its real
lines going up her thigh now because she found out that wrists make people worry

people don't understand the process of self destruction
it started a long time ago
and it will never end
until she does.

The edge looks so inviting.
I could close my eyes and it could be all over.  
One step and then I’m dead.
Should I jump?

Look at me, my skin has dealt with a lot.
Scars and bruises fill my body.
My body is fragile, it breaks and bruises easily, that doesn’t stop you from hitting me.
Scars are on my wrist; it doesn’t stop me from cutting though.

maybe i'm not depressed
maybe i created
a nonexistent mess
maybe i'm okay
but i still can't seem
to explain
this aching
in my brain