There he stood
Far, far away
Far, far beyond
From her reach
Among the twinkling stars
Bright but calm
He was not a star
Among the millions
Only moon who amused her
With his different phases

Everyday I suffer from self-hate
I never know why I have this fate
Everytime I smile, I feel insecure
I hope there is a cure
Giving up has always been an option
Because it feels like I have no direction
Is living really worthwhile?
You feel awful even when you smile
I used to imagine a future so bright
But now it's just as dark as night
Cutting myself seems predictable
But I always make sure that it isn't visible

I had to call the cops on my ex-boyfriend last Thursday:

Stop looking at me like I did something to you.
I have campus police on speed dial, if you do not leave, I will call them.
You need to stop pretending like I did something wrong to you.
I am dialing the number right now.
Look at me. Look at me! Stop looking at me like you're a victim! I didn't do anything wrong to you. I don't deserve this.
Look, it's ringing. You need to leave.
First, you need to stop looking at me like I did something wrong to you.
No. Leave.
Look at me!
Leave.

You feel a special kind of guilty when you have a stalker. You don't want to believe that someone you ever loved would to this. You really don't want to believe that someone you were ever intimate with, or someone who has pictures that you painted for them in their room would do this to you. You don't want to feel vulnerable. And you really don't want to feel that every few seconds, you need to be looking over your shoulder for them. You just want them to leave you alone.

I was not invited
So I didn't come
Feeling sad and slighted
My thoughts begin to run.......
................................

Meaningless and worthless
Fate spun it's unforgiving wheel
Leaving a life that's mirthless
Dealing sorrow with gleeful zeal

I find myself alone again
The wheel can only spin around
Ending where it begins
On familiar battleground

On my shoulder sets the crow
Memories continually fanned
Very slowly I sink below
Standing firmly in quicksand

©Pauline Russell

Before you get in bed with me, there's a few things you need to know.

I'm a lot more than just a warm body you lay with, I promise.
Don't get me wrong, I love a woman's curves as much as the next man; but I know it's not the thing that matters.

I'm good at what I do when we get between those sheets, but I'm not going to just run there to get laid. I'll take you to a world of ecstasy and pleasure you may not have ever had before, but I don't get there so easily anymore.

I'm really a sensitive guy who's heart has multiple scars on every wall. See, I've been in love. I mean real love; the kind of love that should be made into a chick flick because it's so unrealistic but it actually happened to me. And it happened to me twice. And I lost them both.

So I have a lot of trust issues, and a lot of pain - really I'm terrified of being hurt again. I'm so tired of being hurt. And I know you want to take my pain away, but if you're just going to use my body then that will hurt.

I don't really care about the ******* anymore. I care about what's going on in your heart, I lust for the emotional intimacy and security and vulnerability that comes when we take off more than just our clothes. Cuz I want to be close.

So take that all in, I'm an open book. I won't hurt you, please don't just leave. If you're okay with something more than just flesh, then let's give us each other until morning light.

I don't think most people understand depression
                                                    ­                         suicide
                                                         ­                           PTSD
or the cycles that they come in as if they were tides.

People don't see past the smiles and laughter to the darkness within;
That you could be surrounded by love and feel okay
                                                            ­                            yet still be dead

That no matter how much comfort or peace you have it still gnaws away in the beck of your mind and chews a hole in your heart.

Cut wrists and suicide attempts aren't a cry for attention but for help;
does anybody out there hear me? see me? feel the way I feel? does anybody get that I am on the edge and losing it? why does nobody listen? why don't they take me serious? am I worth anything?

It disgusts me we execute the wounded and condemn their suffering;
Maybe they shouldn't feel the way they feel, but it's how they feel, so quit trying to tell them to stop feeling that way!
QUIT TRYING TO FIX THEM

Just be there... they need to know they aren't alone.

Flowers on headstones.
Vivid colours amongst grey
To brighten the grief.