it has finally stopped snowing
after how long?
steam and fire
blood and breath
it's all gone.

thank god, right?

but it's not exactly fields of flowers now.
because now i have to figure out how to swim
through the newly melted
floods.

My sister cried when her coaches belittled her
She noisily complained
She left and swore never to go back
Her pain so tangible it made my teeth hurt
I wanted to fix it, do anything to make it stop
Anything to get her pain away from me

But I think maybe I was the odd one out
Because when my coaches abused my team for months on end
I never cried
Not once
I kept thinking I could fix it, I could take the pain away
I would push harder, whatever they'd ask,
So long as they stayed


You tell me which of us reacted wrong,
Who was more messed up in the end?

Even the words have dissipated, running down my checks like the last few raindrops of a forgotten hurricane

I don't have any pretty words left to share
Not of my own, and I can't seem to find any from other people either
I remember reading somewhere that someone wrote:
"It was too tiring to try to treat people like human beings. So I stopped trying."

I'm tired.

I'm really, so very tired with this world.
People have promised me that there are things I've yet to experience,
That there are great moments that you have to live for,
But right now I can't bring myself to believe them.
Even my dreams, even as I pursue them across state lines,
Even these fade in meaning as I glance upon the darkness behind my eyelids.

What could be more beautiful than eternal sleep?
Its darkness so warm, so enticing-
Promising everything and purely nothing.
Death's voice whispers by my ear, and I cradle my head into his caress.

I'm so tired.

I'm 17 years old, and there are some days where I want to live until the end of forever. I want to see if humans can figure it out, but I'm so tired of trying and failing to help with the figuring out, that the other days are becoming ever more common.

I want to come with you, I cry to Death.

But this time, he is the one to push me away.
We all have our place, he gently reminds me. I'm sorry, but you are needed here.

He places a kiss on my skull and it burns through my soul.
That's the best I can do, he sighs.

He tucks me in my bed and I sleep the sleep of the dead.
I pray that when I wake the weariness will have faded away
I hope against hope that come morning, I will finally be alive
again.

She's a little unfocused
A mind, world of her own
This is a strong girl, she's been through a lot
She's got such fierce loyalty
Sticks to her moral code

Yet I worry about her

How much more can she take of this world grabbing her by the ankles and shaking her to her core?

I know the things I've thought, and we are sisters
Is it that far off to assume maybe she's thinking the same?
And what if she acts on it?
She's always been so much more impulsive, so irrationally emotional...

I cry for her

Would it be so hard-
rather than throwing her combatants to battle and mountains to climb-

Would it be so hard for the world to put in her path a few good friends instead?

I called myself depressed,
but what if I was wrong?
I mean the shoe seems to fit,
but there's always a chance that what I thought was a carriage
sent to take me away,
may really just be a pumpkin in disguise.

My hands are shaking, I'm cold
The voices in my head sound hollow

I'm not eating enough
And I know that's not good but...

I like being able to trace my skeleton under its thin blanket of skin
I like the solidity of my bones
I practice naming them, true ribs, clavicle
The little gnaw in my stomach reminding me I'm alive

I just pray I won't go too far because
I've as of yet never been able to pull myself back from falling onto my next step,
Stumbling further into the dark

I force myself to step outside onto the porch for a moment
To remember what fresh air tastes like,
And when I do,
I see that the trees are made out of clay
Modeled to near perfection but just off-right
And the sun is a flashlight someone set to hang from a domed glass ceiling
The lighting on the stage dialed to dismal but not quite dead
I'm breathing, I think, but it seems all too effortless to really be me
The people and things around me and myself all prop pieces in a play that may never have existed.

I love internet writing
Nothing else can compare
Taking time out every day
Expressing myself with words
Reaching out far and wide
Needing to make contact
Encouraging fellow writers
Touching my friends lives

Wonderful people I have met
Right here on the internet
Inspiration comes to me daily
Telling others how I feel
Indulging in my fantasies
Needing to express my thoughts
Grateful for my caring friends