Burning of eyes as I just awoke
My room pitch black
The warmth of my bed makes me want to stay forever
But excitement boils over my five year old mind
as I remember it is Christmas morning

My feet turn to ice as I stick them out of the blanket
The floor making them stick.
I lift up my feet and gallop to my sisters room.
Boom, boom, boom,
My heels make contact with the hardwood floor

I grab the golden **** to my sisters room
I push quietly but fast
The door makes a slight squeak
I sprint to her bedside.
“WAKE UP CAMILLE IT’S CHRISTMAS!” I yell in the middle of her room.
At that point, I didn’t care about waking my parents up.

She sits right up with a smile on her face
And flings the blankets beside her legs as she puts her feet to the ground.
We race down the hallway
Dogs nails tapping on the floor as they follow us to the living room
The big, dusty, gross purple couch is the barrier between
me and the present I have been dreaming about for this entire year,
A new bike.
I run around the couch to see the chrome shining in the moonlight
The tires casting a shadow over the small area rug.
Stockings on the back of the big leather chair,
which instantly drew our attention.

We tear open the stockings and compare the new trinkets we got.
Cardboard, tin wrapping, and chocolate wrappers flying everywhere.
We were smiling so much I swear we could hear them.

Parents come out to see us grinning beside the heater as we tear apart our favorite toy for the day.
We gather around the living room like it was superbowl sunday and the tree is our
flatscreen.
The blue and silver and red and green collage of corny wrapping paper,
the giant boxes wrapped tightly and perfectly.

Dad is beside the tree, deciding which present we can open, and lightly tossing it to us.
We catch is as carefully as we could, set it on our laps and wait for our turn to unwrap.

As thank you’s are thrown around like baseballs at a little league practice
I patiently glance at my mom, and get the nod that I can unwrap.
This square box is staring eye to eye with me and I get the jitters as I unwrap it.
The red paper finally off, I open the box with ease.

What I found was the coolest thing ever, thats all I remember.

But now, that box is filled with my happiness.
My memories.
Never has an empty box held so much.
It has the family dinners,
The camp outs and bon fires.
The laughs that come from the belly while playing games around the table.
The piano lessons for hours
And those coloring books that were more sacred than the bible.

But for now, the box is closed for the time being.
Sitting upon a shelf in my closet, waiting for the right time to be opened again.

The greatest gift I have ever received is the memories of home.
What home is to me is all inside that box.

Dads cooking on the table,
Moms questions about our day at school,
Camille talking about her math homework.

Now it’s just two lonely guys sitting at a table
discussing how ****** the economy is,
girls,
that one time when he tried to give me “the talk”
But he doesn’t need to, I go to public school after all.

What I am trying to say is, I miss those family dinners more than anything.
I miss the nights we would spend outside gazing at the stars
Pointing out the constellations in the sky and making up our own.

I look for those constellations all the time.
I once found a rose, and I named it Camille.
Dad never knew why I named it that, since shes my sister.
I named the constellation of the rose Camille because
Well, she has the rosy cheeks and the lovely smile.
But she sure as hell has her thorns.

A family dinner now is three people instead of four,
I say bedroom with a plural,

But this family, although gone through hell and back,
We live together in between different walls, roads, and doors.
But most of all, we live behind our present, and live in the past.

I want to end this by saying, Christmas brings new memories and my favorite time of the year,
because then my family exists.
I started to open presents slower and slower,
and hugging tighter and tighter.
And loving more and more.
I love you, Mom, Dad, Camille.
I really do, even when you think I don’t,
I love you guys, and I always will.

In certain lives, there comes a time where there is nothing left to live for, and all the remains within your dim existence is a shallow pool of wasted hopes and dreams.

Where skies no longer display hues of blue but instead produce red toxic fumes, while you wither away, questioning your own self-worth.

Dying with every breathe you take, crying with every sound you make.

These times may nearly destroy you. They may burn you alive, producing putrid black wounds, ripping away at your flesh and exposing you to the world.

They may leave you stranded alone, ******* the air from your lungs and leaving black holes in your heart. Black holes that render you helpless, as you struggle to save the last bit of sanity you have left to hold onto.

You may be slammed against the ground so hard that every last bone in your body breaks and you are suddenly knocked unconscious, unable to pick yourself off of the blood stained floor where your limp body remains.

Depression; a single word that holds such a strong meaning and has so much authority that it's mere presence is enough to weigh you down.

It's mere existence is so powerful that to be forcibly locked within it's thorny flesh-tearing arms leaves it's victims in such a dis-functional and discouraged state that escaping it's clutches seems nearly impossible.

This monster resides in a place where holding onto one's life is the hardest challenge you could possibly face.

Where no one else can see the darkness or hear the desperate cries for help.

Where no one else is capable of fathoming it's destructive soul-******* power.

Where no one is able to witness the killing of a soul and the slow but gradual declining of the ability to survive.

No one can understand until they have plummeted themselves into this dark abyss that travels down the the core of the Earth and devours you whole, this dark abyss known as depression.

You don't have remind yourself every day that you stand in this place. Because what is it worth simply rolling around in it's molten liquid until it kills you?

For even when there is no visible light at the end of the tunnel, you have to squint your eyes and look harder. Stare and stare until you see that light appear.

Even if it is just a spec of light poking through the darkness. Even if it appears to be thousands of miles away.

For even a spec of light is an opportunity to find your way out, an escape route in a blackened world.

You have to believe that even though your mind says that there is absolutely no hope left, even when life has disowned you, crushed you and has hit you with all it's might, you will make it out of this place.

You have to believe that this is the ultimate test of strength, your story as the lowly under-dog, rising to the top and conquering everything that once stood in your path even when it stood taller than what you thought you could handle.

The under-dog that was mocked and pushed around, that same soul that everyone spit on and deemed as unworthy of even the ground they stood on.

YOUR beautiful soul, that has been ignored, and cast as a shadow in this world. Even when no one was able to see your glory, not even yourself, you have to believe that you are a human-being.

Capable of climbing out of the darkest hole, finding your way out of the longest tunnel, balancing on a tight rope no thicker than a strand of hair.

You have to believe that you are worthy of the life you've been given, you are worthy of that happiness just within your own reach.

Sometimes I can feel you growing,
just to be clear I’m speaking figuratively not literally.
I can see your soft ivory skin, your freckle kissed face, and bright blue eyes
that reflect the sun with whim and adventure,
my beautiful baby girl.
When you join my years from now i’ll build you up like a mountain.
I’m going to make you everything I wasn’t,
confident.
I’m going to teach and achieve, and help bring you up to be you
and you will be the best you can be.
I will teach you to smile at your failures rather than weeping
because failures are what make you human.
You’ll be strong willed with the confidence to let people know bit.
The most important thing I’ll teach you is love.
You’ll grow and grow and grow filling your head and heart with more.
More love for yourself
because you are YOU
and you are beautiful.
More love for people of all sort because we all matter and we all deserve to be loved.
And more love for yourself.
You will probably end up with some of my weaknesses
i’m sorry for that,
yet i’m not sorry enough to really mean it because  weaknesses don’t make you weak,
they make you human.
You, my wonderful daughter will grow into a beautiful woman
in more ways than you can count.
You will be intelligent, not by how much you’ve learned in school
but because you will be filled with kindness, passion, and love
and that is something no one can teach.
Your internal beauty will overflow and seep threw your pours making your external beauty just as beautiful as your internal beauty.

I thought I would grow up into a world where everything was care-free
I didn’t think it would be hard to be  me
But there is a secret hidden in the most beautiful of pictures
a secret so secret that it's hard to figure
I grew up into a world where I am surrounded by thin
this is the secret that is hidden within
I'm constantly told that I have to be perfect
but is killing my own body really worth it?
The message being sent to women today
it's that you have to look pretty to get your way
When did it become all about looks?
Haven't you ever heard the phrase 'don't judge the cover of books'
The media has tried to give the public a voice
but all it's doing is giving us a choice
These images we're surrounded by, they all look the same
is there anyone out there who is willing to say that in who you are, there is no shame?
Photoshop doesn't make me want to buy what's in your ad
all it really does is make me extremely mad
I'm mad because advertisers lie about what they sell
that shirt won't fit anyone bigger than 2 from what I can tell
Because they had to make that model appear impossibly skinny
in order to show off their bikini
I'd like to see people in ads that represent the real society
people that are of all shapes and sizes that illustrate variety
What really pushes me over the edge
is that I'm told that my curves are what people dread
No one has the right to tell me what my body should be
I shouldn't be ashamed to walk around being me
Instead I walk in public feeling like I've done something wrong
I've been brainwashed to think that because I'm not thin, I'm not strong
But now it's time for me to stand up for those who need to hear this
you control the happiness you feel and you don't want to miss it
There is so much more beauty that one simply can't see
there's a type of beauty that's more than just skin deep
'Beauty' is knowing who you are inside
is worth unleashing and showing off with pride
It's hard to overcome something that has caused so much damage
but believing in your own beauty can release all your baggage
Who wants to see a monotone society?
we need to embrace each other's variety
The more people you get to know
the more shades of beauty will be shown
Then you'll see the secret that isn't so hidden
the secret that your own beauty will never be forbidden
Whether you're thin, round, short, or tall
it doesn't even matter at all
So what if my thighs touch, so what if yours don't?
Let's get real people, the media is a hoax
Because that mold that we are told to fit
I’m sorry, but it simply does not  exist.

hey loser
where you going fatty
you’re so ugly
you’re gonna die alone
what’s the point of you anyways
you’re so pathetic
you’re such a freak
you’re worthless
stupid
*****
****
annoying
ugly
go **** yourself
sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.
somewhere out there someone is afraid to go to school
thinking they can’t face this again
and again.
somewhere out there someone is hiding behind lies                
suffocating in your stereotypes.
somewhere out there someone is starving for perfection
wasted meals, wasted potential, wasting away
and they think “I’m wasted but, am I perfect yet?
somewhere out there someone can be in a room full of people
but, never feel more alone
like they are invisible to the world
sticks and stones
you’re breaking my bones
why won’t you just let me be
who do you think you are
telling me what I should and should not be
how do you think that makes me feel
i feel alone
i feel worthless.
sticks and stones may break your bones but words will never hurt you
but words carry weight 
so much weight
as if an elephant is sitting upon my chest
it’s pulling me down
i am drowning
i am gasping
struggling to breathe
you’re watching me drown
this sea of misery and pain surrounds me
consuming me
i can’t fight it
i just want to wake up from this nightmare
i’m sorry i am not perfect
i’m sorry i wasn’t enough
i’m sorry that those words finally hurt me more than a broken bone ever could.