there are things that aren't mine to tell
the same can be said of you as well
even as our every cell pushes us to expel it

some secrets that I've bid people keep
were steeped in stigma, dangerous to sweep
into a corner with all my black sheep

the question comes now, 20/20 hindsight
why none of them put up a fight
as I made them complicit in hiding my plight

I was grateful then, but now I'm not sure
that keeping it secret was the best cure
but I still believe their intentions were pure

They were.
They were.

A history major, they ask, "What's the point?"
I answer: to learn the origin of disjoint
in our messed up society with ascribed labels,
nothing like the kings of old, sitting at roundtables.
To learn the origin of our government system
and all the subsequent attempts to resist them.
To learn the reason we all have to hide
or take the ridicule dished out in stride.
The past holds the key to the future ahead,
repeating the past ensures we all end up dead.
Yet serving as the fighting force against the majority,
often serves to accentuate our inferiority.
So history, yes, is important to me
because I learn all the reasons our society
shoves roles upon us, labels and judges.
I won't stand for that, I'll dredge up the past
and I hope next time you meet a history major -
you don't ask.

This newfound happiness takes a lot of energy,
yet somehow I'm not tired anymore

The days spent lying in bed are just memories;
I'm no longer in a state of war

Bypassing new obstacles cleverly,
life seems no longer like a chore

Happiness takes a lot of energy
but through it, life is restored

So this is what it feels like
to realize something is different
this is a whole other story
Do I have to come out?
Do people like me have to do that?
How does that work?

Or do I just go about
until an SO finds out?
Then where will I be...
steeped in my anxiety.
What do I do? Who should I tell?
Surely someone who won't scoff
and say I'm just unwell

It finally clicked tonight
why relationships failed
why I'm still like Mary
Why I judge people often
though their behavior is normal
and mine is glaringly different

Average age: 17.4 apparently
Where does that leave me
but questioning my sanity?

It's not the fact that I'm not in the masses
that bothers me here,
But the fact that I don't know what comes next:
it's unclear

Breathing is feeling
it can be revealing
if someone is there to listen

Steady .  In .  Calm .
HEAVY  IN  PAIN
r a p i d   i n   p a n i c
never the same

Breathing is living
and I am forgiving my past actions
now fighting to find satisfaction
waiting with bated breath
for what comes next

Half in,
half out
been running about
trying to find the right place
for my devout ineptitude
It's not for lack of aptitude
or deteriorating attitude of my situation,
but an alternative observation
and subsequent creation of a world
in which my station does not allow for proclamation of my revelations. 

Half in,
Half out
***** one night, then stout
Trying to avoid the past
filled with my proud mistakes
Not to misplace myself
or fall into disgrace, but to embrace
the oblivion brought upon by haste
to reach the bottom of a bottle
To soothe the distaste of reality
leading myself to waste

Half in,
Half out
I've learned to doubt
Trying to trust very few
Folding the hand I was dealt
Foregoing the bluff of a smile
Blocking how it felt on my side of the belt
now hidden by clothes and modesty
But honestly im doing fine
Though honesty is for only the devine
Did you catch my lie within these lines?

red drips slowly down an arm
elbow to wrist, silver scars
mutilating a once bright
life, and new additions
insist on existence:
gone is the fight