I had a bad night last night.
Texts from my mom saying grandma should raise me full time.
She said she will take me to probate court and sign away her rights as a mother.
Is she a mother? Could you really call her that?
My mom said it’s better this way for all involved.
It’s better for her if she wouldn’t have a daughter anymore?
My mom told me that my dad has missed me, he wanted to pick me up and bring me back.
My mother said I know you aren’t happy at our house.
You have lived with your grandma most of your life, of course she is going to make you happier.
Who’s fault is that? You sent me to grandma’s house when I was little because you didn’t want to deal with me.
My mother thinks I hate her, she acts like I haven’t made any effort to fix things.

I listen to music wondering if I will make it.
Will I make it another day?
I close my eyes and try to imagine my future, I see nothing but darkness.
I wonder if I will live a long life?
I’m fantasying a lot about death these days.
I need to relive this stress.
I try to distract my mind from this pain.
I sit with my parents and hear them talk about their day.
They went to a few stores, I didn’t go.
I didn’t want to face the world today, I couldn’t not today.
Maybe I will go somewhere tomorrow.
I think about how my parents would feel if they knew I cut, I need to tell them.
I’m putting it off, how do you bring up something like this?
I have to tell them; I have tried recovery.
I can’t do it alone.
I’m hoping they will understand.
I don’t want to hurt them; I don’t want to cause them more pain.
I’m ****** up, they have had to do so much for me already.
I wanted to be a good kid.
I don’t want them to regret their choice of adopting me.
Because I feel like my mom does regret her choice of adopting me.

She came home from school, she had to deal with bullies all day long.
She came home to her mom yelling, her mother was off her medications again.
Daddy was trying to calm my mother down, while saying hello to me when I walked in the door, I guess he didn't want her to feel left out.
In this situation she wouldn't mind if he didn't say hello, she wouldn't mind feeling invisible.
She goes to her room and gets a box off her shelf, It's full or razors.
She picks one out and walks out of her room, to the bathroom.
She looks in the mirror, she feels disgusted by what she sees.
She put headphones on and blasts the music high, she locks the bathroom door.
She climbs into the bathtub and starts cutting her wrists open.
One, two, three, four, five times she has cut.
Blood runs out, she lays in the bathtub.
She can't stop, she hits a vein, she screams it's all over.
She is a corpse in the bathtub of her parents home.

I’m not crazy I swear;
My mind isn’t all here though.

Nothing will change, it will never change it will all be the same.
That’s why I want to get away.
She will never get help, I’m stupid to think she would.
I was hoping she would, I wanted things to work.
While I was waiting for things to change, I hung onto things from the past trying to remember when things were ok.
Was it ever ok?
I don’t remember it ever being ok, not once, not ever. Not even a little.
I’m tired of everything, I want everything to end.
You said talk things out maybe you won’t self-harm that way, I did try to talk to someone.
I’m numb.

I like singing in the shower, can you hear me?
I will sing to you if you want.
Maybe after we can lay in my bed, I want to know about you.
Tell me all of your hopes and dreams.
Tell me your favorite color, mines green.
How many girls hearts have you broken?
The hours pass and I feel like I have known you for years.

Stain glass fills the room; I always loved looking at it.
Seats fill the room also; a cross is on the wall.
I felt so safe here at one time.
I always wanted to come here, this use to feel like home.

It's 3am I'm still up.
The moon is out and the stars are shinning.
We just now stopped texting, we have been talking all day.
When you said you needed sleep, I told you I will miss you.
I said good night sleep well.
You called me sweetheart and babe tonight, yes I noticed.
I feel high you made me *** 2 times.
I'm listening to music now and writing to you in the hope I wont miss you so much.
When will we talk again? Hopefully soon.

I hurt when I saw him, my brain went dead and I couldn’t speak.
He looked perfect, I wanted to talk to him but I knew I couldn't.

She likes the smell of forgotten old books, the ones that are hidden in the library shelves.
She likes taking the books home and reading them all night long in her bed.
She will always take a book with her, no matter where she is going.
She can escape into fictional worlds, where she fights dragons and warlocks.
One day she hopes she can write a book, one day she hopes to inspire others.

She died, no one asked if I was ok.
I had to pack her stuff up and put it in the garage, I guess they thought that would wipe her existence away and make it seem like she was never here.
She was here though, she touched my life.
A life was lost, no one cares.

Broken Glass
Dismantled sharpeners
Razors
Knives
Box Cutters
The things I use to hurt myself.
Cut my wrist one, two, three times.
If I do it right red blood drips out.
It washes away my mistakes, it helps me it really does.
I get a high every time I cut my wrist.
I do it in the most obvious place, why hasn’t anyone noticed?
-written by a cutter that's been broken for 5 years and has a knife, razor and broken glass collection in my room.

I went to the house, for the first time in months.
I had spent so many hours here.
This felt like home, this is where my heart was at.
I wasn’t supposed to be here; my parents would get mad.
I wanted to see them though.
My aunt, my uncle, my cousins.
I didn’t want it to end, I walked through the house looking at everything.
I saw the vase I made my aunt.
I saw pictures of me when I was younger.
My cousin and I played basketball.
I watched my uncle watch football.
I talked to my oldest cousin.
I memorized the house before I left.
I don’t know when I will see you all again.
I love you so much.

The day is done, I’m tired.
I stayed up until 12, I do every night now.
I count down the hours until I can say I made it another day.
I made it another day it’s 12 o clock.
No cuts on my wrist.
I made it another day and I owe it all to you.
I love you, you have made life so bright, so special.
Even though we have not known each other long, I know I want to be with you for as long as I live.
I want to be able to snuggle with you someday.
Once I’m finally there with you, I want to whisper in your ear and say how much you truly mean to me.
Bad days and fights will come our way, we will figure it out though, I promise.
Good night, I love you.
We both made it another day.

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?

The sun is beating down on his face; he is an older man.
He is sitting on a park bench; he is feeding birds bread.
A girl comes walking up to the older man, she seems happy to see him.
The girl is crying tears of joy it seems.
The older man hugs the girl, they sit down on the bench.
The girl hands him a box, a box full of letters she wrote to him over the years.
The man slowly reads each one, sometimes smiling and laughing at what he reads.
He begins to read more, the man starts crying.
He is reading about her issue with her weight and food.
He reads about her self-harm.
The man slowly looks at the girl, he says I'm sorry honey.
I'm sorry I couldn't of been there for you, but I'm here now.

I was dead before we met.
I was born again when you fell in love with me.
I lived while we were together, somehow even when things ended between us I find the strength to keep going.
But some days are hard and I struggle to even get up,
I don't lay on your side of the bed to make it seem like your coming back.
I keep your clothes in the closet even when I don't have enough room for mine.
I love you.

I count every calorie of every day
Hoping one day I will be as beautiful as you.
I need to lose weight, you told me I was fat, gross, and a *****.
You wonder why I’m so insecure.
I’m not allowed to get mad at you when you hit me and make me feel worthless.
I look in the mirror thinking of everything you have ever told me, I think about all my imperfections and my mistakes I have made.
Sometimes I think about what my daddy said and I think I’m strong enough to leave you, but I stay and you know I will.  
I whisper loving words in your ear at night.
Praying you will do the same one day.

When you remember me, please remember my smile.
When you remember me, think of the way I laughed.
When you remember me, remember the way my hair looked in the morning.  
Don’t remember my cuts or scars, I’m not ashamed that I cut, but you are.
I want you to remember me running through the sprinkler or making silly faces underwater.
I want you to remember me wearing miss-matched socks.
I want you to know how much I loved you, because I really do.
I’m sorry if you are reading this, I didn’t want you to live a day without me there with you.
I want you to know it’s ok if you find someone else to love, someone you can make love with.
Someone who does your laundry like I did.
I want you to find someone who likes mint chocolate chip ice cream as much as we did.

Once when I was a little kid, I had a bad dream.
I called for my dad, I said daddy, daddy come here please.
I told him I had a bad dream.
He sat down on my bed and said I have the perfect solution.
He told me, when I close my eyes and the monsters come into my dreams spray them with a magical spray.
He said, it gets rid of monsters instantly.
If they don’t go away he said, I can always call him.
I never had to though, I used the magical spray he talked about when monsters came around.
When I became older though and I had demons haunting my head, the spray didn’t work.
I didn’t feel like I could talk to my dad.
I was lost and things were getting worse.
I stopped calling him, I cried and fought my bad dreams alone when I got older.
Where did you go dad?

Mom, I’m coming home.
You said you had concerns that you needed to talk about.
It seems you want me there.
I love you mom.
Mom, I’m coming home.
Wait for me please, don’t leave.
I will be there; we can talk then.

Sometimes when I look into my mom’s eyes, it feels like I don’t know her, it feels like evil has taken over.

Please wake me up, tell me I’m alive.
I feel numb sometimes it’s hard to open up to people nowadays.
I need help, say something to me and then maybe I will believe in this world again.

I died inside, I would cry so hysterically as if it would bring him back to life.
I needed him, he had always been there.
He will never hold me again.
He will never come home with flowers for me.
He will never smile.
He’s dead, I’m alone.
I love you, someday we will see each other again.

When I ******* I try to think of straight guys,
I think about you though.
I don’t want to; I know it’s wrong.
My mom will judge me, even though she says she will be ok with whoever I end up with.
My family will think I’m wrong.
I have a hard time of going to church, because I think about what they would say if they found out.
I don’t want to be labeled.
I wish I didn’t feel this way, I don’t want these confusing thoughts and have to worry about what people will say.
Will you look at me differently once you find out?
I don’t know who to tell, I don’t know how to say it.
I think about her, I love her.
Is this normal? will I ever think the way I once did again?

I had a picture in my head of how my family was supposed to look like.
Smiling faces.
My parents getting along.
No screaming.
I’m not sure why I thought that my family would be happy, funny and have a good life.
I learned early on that this wasn’t the case, I’m afraid to grow up and have a marriage that ends, have screaming in the house and have my kids wishing they could be dead.
Because that’s what my childhood was like.
I’m afraid to have kids, even though people say I’m nothing like my parents, people think I will be a good mother.
How can I be a good mom when I didn’t have one myself?
Don’t get me wrong I’m not blaming my mom, she did the best she could.

8 days, 8 days I was living, breathing and sleeping.
8 days.
Ocho- meaning 8 in Spanish.
Acht- meaning 8 in German.
8 days since the last time I self-harmed.
8 days, isn’t that great?
I have had a few breakdowns and I have cried a lot in these 8 days.
I feel the urge to cut.
Feelings are overwhelming me.
I’m sad and happy, delusional and anxious.
I get nervous over the simplest things.
I can’t live.
Cutting, cutting was the way I dealt with things.
It was my habit, everyone has one.

Rows of machines filled the room.
Loud sounds and flashing lights.
Hundreds of people all there for the same thing.
I won enough that night to fix my car.
The first time felt like a high.
I was winning, I felt like I was providing for my family.
Night after night I went back, it became an addiction.

I don't know if you experienced abuse before in any form.
You are scared to the point of checking your phone because if you miss a message they will punish you with twenty more saying you should answer right away.
You’re afraid to eat because of something that they will say.
Your scared when you wake up and when your breathing.
You cry yourself to sleep.
When the abuser acts normal and loving you stay because you love them and their old self is showing.
You enjoy those moments where it seems peaceful because it helps you get through the bad parts of when the abuse happens.
If the abuser acts nice your scared because you want it to last so you don't say anything and they think your behavior is weird.
I feel so lost and dizzy, I don’t know what is true anymore.

This room has so many memories.
My cousin and I use to play games in this room.
I remember getting all the junk food out of the kitchen and spreading it across the bed in this room.
I remember waking up in the morning and trying to pick out what to wear out of the closet in the room.
I remember when no one was home, I blasted the music and danced in this room.
I remember being excited the first time I saw this room, it’s beautiful.
My mom painted this room, she painted it orange and yellow.
With hand painted flowers on the wall.
I’m scared to change the room; I’m scared I will forget what has happened in this room.
But, things change and it is time to make this room different.
This is my last night in my old room full of beautiful and sad memories.
I can make new memories though.
This will be a good change; this will be a fresh start.

I have done my best to avoid this house.
I didn’t like it here, I never have.
I was always with someone else, or sleeping somewhere else.
I haven’t been to this house in 3 months.
I really wish I hadn’t come back.
I had no choice, I had to come back.
I want to get out of here and never come back.

Can you teach me how to fly?
I have fallen so many times.
Don’t be scared to help me.
I’m broken inside, believe you will be fine.
I won’t let you touch the broken pieces of my life, I don’t want you cut.
Please help me fly.
Please don’t be scared of me.

Kids table, I’m sitting here with the kids, again.
I hear the adults sitting in the other room chatting.
I wish I could sit with the adults, I usually do but tonight I have to sit with my two cousins.
I’m bored, I sit slowly eating my food.
Looking around, my cousin starts laughing my other cousin is making weird sounds.
I start laughing also, I can’t stop laughing.
If you are sitting at the kids table, we should give you a warning.
It is messy at this table.
You will laugh about stupid ****.
You will feel like a child again, isn’t that a nice feeling?
Warning, you will never want to go back to the adult table after sitting with the kids.
Isn’t it funny how much I wish I were at the adults table?
Why would I want to sit with them?
The adults talk about politics and war.
Depressing isn’t it?
They talk about the news and a new mass shooting.
Adults, were once kids can you believe it?
Sometimes though it is nice to go back to your roots and sit with kids.
Kids will be honest with you; kids will tell you how it is.
Kids, they will laugh and **** without apologizing.
Kids haven’t been ruined by the world yet, not yet.
Hopefully they will never be ruined by the world.
I use to be a kid, I was ruined and I had a lot of life struggles.
Reality came too fast and ruined my childhood.
Sitting at the kids table helped me though, I'm glad I sat here tonight.

I don’t have to carry my whole life with me anymore but I do.
Pieces chip off and I forget the little things.
But I still remember you, I always will.
I love you, you helped me through school
You helped me when things weren’t going well with my mom and me.
You meant the world to me, so why did you leave?

A new life was born, it’s a girl.
Her birth mom kept her for 5 months of her life.
She decided to give her up for adoption.
The girl was adopted by this family.
Her dad held her and said you will never be alone again.
She was loved for now, but things changed.
Her mom was on and off her medication most of her life.
The girl spent most of her time with her aunt and grandma.
The girl met her birth family things didn’t work out, she was sad.
The girl stated cutting and she stopped eating.
She wrote her birth family letters so if they ever met again it would feel like they didn’t miss anything.
She is struggling with the loss still, the first few years were hard.

I'm broken, yes.
I’m getting worse, the days seem longer and I look forward to the time where I can lay my head down and sleep.
Sometimes I can’t sleep though, it all started 5 years ago.

I sit in the shower and cry; you don’t know how much I want to die.

The mirror is foggy; I can’t see my naked body.
I suppose that’s good, at least I don’t have to hate myself in the mirror this morning.
But when the mirror isn’t foggy anymore, I will have to turn around so I can’t see myself.  
I’m ugly, who could ever look at me and love me?

He said I’m a great poet.
Never stop writing he said, never.
He told me he loves my work, he said he loves me.
He made me feel something again.
I’m afraid to lose him, he means everything to me.
He has taught life lessons.
I’m different, I have changed people notice.
He helped me realize I’m beautiful.
I’m so much more confident.
I would of never wrote this much and pursued writing more if it weren’t for him.
I love him, I love him this is the best feeling in the world.

The knife is calling my name, the razor in the bathroom is screaming at me.
I look down at my arm and see the scars, I pull down my sleeves to cover all the memories the scars leave.
I try to get up and live, I remember the first time I cut I was 13.
I don’t want to live anymore, Goodbye.

Dad messaged me yesterday around 5.
I thought this drama was over.
He said listen carefully, so I did.
He said, I have 2 choices.
I can come home Sunday, or have grandma take legal guardianship of me.
No middle ground he said.
If I go back to my parents’ home, he said I won’t see grams except for the weekend.
He has said all this before.
This time feels different though.
He said make a decision after I read his messages, I was supposed to message him right after.
I told him this is a life alerting choice, a decision I can’t make alone.
I told him I would be at the house on Sunday though, what else could I have said?
I went to my aunt’s house yesterday, to get her opinion on it.
I’m getting a lawyer, I’m ready to live life.

The child is crying, she is helpless.
People are yelling at her.
She is trying to grab onto her mother.
I couldn’t handle the screaming, I heard a lot of it when I was younger.
I didn’t want to scream; I didn’t want to say anything.
I’m as bad as the people who abused me.
I’m no better I watched her cry, I didn’t pick her up.
I’m so sorry.

It’s in the past, it’s history.
I remember when it happened, seems so long ago.
My heart still hurts and I cry sometimes when I’m reminded of what happened.
Somehow I have kept going and I have lived.
I’m breathing and eating.
It’s in the past, I still remember though.

You’re not a kid anymore, your all grown up.
I’m only 15 though, but you act like I’m 21.
I drink to hide the pain.
I cut myself to release the pain, it’s an addiction now.
A few years ago I had life planned, but now it’s all blurry and I just struggle to get out of bed.
I just want everything to stop, Breathe. Just breathe.
How do I look at people? I let people down.
None of this matters now, I never mattered.
I still want to believe in a future but I’m stuck in this nightmare.

I’m not sure why I thought this.
I had a rule, fat girls weren’t allowed to have short hair.
What I was saying is, I wasn’t allowed to have short hair because I was fat.
A form of punishment you could call it.
I didn’t think I deserved to have short hair.
Today I was going to go get my hair done.
I was sitting and looking at a magazine, I was waiting to see if they had anyone available.
I don’t know why, for some reason I decided to finally cut my hair short.
While the girl was cutting my hair, I looked around and saw other clients.
I didn’t want to look; I was afraid I had made the wrong choice.
It was too late though; she was already cutting it.
But I raised my head after I gave myself a speech inside my head.
I said it is just hair. It will grow back Steph.
I peeked at it and looked down quickly.
I looked again, is that really me?
The hairdresser blow dried my hair.
She asked afterwards, do you like it?
I didn’t know what to say besides yes I love it.
I really love it.
Do I really love it?
It’s a big change from my long hair.

I can’t **** myself because my sadness would be over.
I can’t **** myself, because I would never be able to cut myself again.
I can’t **** myself because people would think I’m a coward if I did.
My sadness would be over though; I would no longer feel.
I wouldn’t be able to cut myself anymore, I wouldn’t be able to leave more scars for my mom to see on my corpse if I killed myself.
If I killed myself, cuts wouldn’t fill my arm anymore.
If I killed myself, my parents wouldn’t be able to fight over me.
If I killed myself, my grandma wouldn’t have to worry about if I made it or not after she died.
If I killed myself, I wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone anymore, I wouldn’t be able to hurt you.
If I killed myself, I wouldn’t ever see your angry eyes and  hear your voice raising higher and higher.
If I killed myself, there would be an empty seat at the table, we never sit at.
Death sounds inviting doesn’t it?
Do I have enough courage to **** myself though?
I would never go to my first job interview.
I would never learn to drive.
I would never be able to disappoint you again.
If I killed myself, you would cry.
You would be sad; you would keep living though.
The whole world would keep going, everything would be the same. Nothing would change and no one’s world would stop if I killed myself.

I remember when we were little kids.
We use to play with dolls in your mother’s front yard, until we got tired.
You got out your bike and tried to teach me how to ride, but I never learned I fell.
In the Summer when it was warm we played in the sprinkler, until it got to warm.
In Autumn we played in the colorful leaves, until your mom yelled and said rake the leaves.
In the Winter we played in the snow making snowmen, we had snowball fights and when we got cold your mom would make hot chocolate and give us warm blankets out of the dryer.
We played Battleship and Monopoly until we fell asleep.
Sometimes on the weekends if I were there, we would wake up before your parents and watch cartoons. We would eat Lucky Charms and Coco Puffs.

I loved drinking water on an empty stomach I waited for the water to slip down my throat.
I'm empty,
I’m cold, in a warm room.
I’m fat.
I want food, no you don’t need it. I love not eating.
78 calories 1 large egg.
95 calories 1 medium apple.
45 calories 1 small orange.
Eat it, throw it all up after.

Another day passes by, while you watch others live.
All you seem to do is cry; You are broken, you are tired.
Your life is passing by you don’t care anymore.
You would **** yourself if it didn’t hurt your family, you can’t put your mom through more pain though.

It's like the words of my mother haunt me, it haunts me in my sleep and in the day.
When she is my mother and she seems to care, it is easier to keep going. You live for the moments when things seem ok.