The marks upon my skin scream at me. Telling me I'm worthless and ugly and fat. They tell me things like I'm better off dead.

   The blood reminds me that I'm human, that I am still capable of feeling things. The blood reminds me of my heart that I try so hard to no longer feel.

    The hunger makes me feel hollow, as if I could blow away in the wind. As if I were paper thin.

    The mirror makes me cry. It shows me my flaws and imperfections. It shows me everything I try so hard to hide. It shows me my scars, my stretch marks,and my sunken in eyes.

Nobody know the battle that I face daily, they say the eyes are the window to the soul but the eyes are the most deceiving part of it all. They tell you lies they can make you feel judged, loved, and hated sometimes. The eyes aren’t the windows to the soul they are the windows to the mind.

its 3 am and my eyes are still burning from all the tears that were wasted on you.
its 3 am and your face is imbeded in my memory
its 3 am and once again i am alone while you lay with another
its 3 am and for the last time i let you enter my mind.
its 3 am and i am done giving up over you.

the world constantly brings you down telling you what you should and shouldn't be. well here's the truth. you are amazing you are beautiful, every inch of your body is perfect from your head to your toes. the world will tell you to change but you will never need to. the problem is that i can say all these things to you about how you are beautiful but i cannot tell them to myself. i can't look in the mirror without tearing up. i hope that you will never reach this state of mind. please realize you are worth something, never let it get this bad.

She screamed out Daddy please don't go! And right there in that moment Daddy no longer became a person but a wish something Santa didn't bring her last year so she would ask just one more time. 5 years later she was in class it was "daddy's day". As her teacher walked away to get another coloring page cause the last five weren't  enough to keep her occupied! She started to cry and whispered Daddy please don't go! She remembered that night her daddy left her promising he would soon be back but he was never to return and she was left there crying all by herself. Little girl needed her daddy's but daddy ditched her.

i never heard the rain fall before i met you.
i never noticed how the sun shined and warmed my skin or how the wind brushed against me. you made me notice the little things in life and soon after that you led me to enjoy them too.

Just take a shower they say, just clean yourself off they say, it will make you feel better. but They don't really know do they? because they haven't a been where I have been they don't know what I know. just take a nap they say, sleep it off they say, slap on some make up, drink some water. just take a shower.  depression doesn't just fade away it's something that stays. they haven't seen the things I have seen,they haven't heard the thoughts that I have heard, so stop trying  to help. don't tell me to take a shower, don't tell me to slap on some make up. Don't make up this ******* to make me feel better because it doesn't. because a shower won't wash away depression.

i didn't think i had anything left to give but then you came along and made me believe i did. i didn't think i could be broken anymore but then you proved me wrong.

i am damaged goods, i pride myself a little too much on not letting people in, and at this very moment in time i am falling apart at the seams. I try so hard to keep people out that not even those close to me can realize how much i am hurting, how close i am to falling off the edge. And even the people who have figured it out seem to be overwhelmed by it, not knowing where to start. I pride myself on being a puzzle to those around me, and processing my emotions by picking up the bottle and depriving myself of food. My coping mechanisms are not healthy but they work, they work for me. I have been stripped of every last shred of hope at the young age of seventeen. I’m not writing this to sound like a sob story I’m writing this to share my story.

i knew it was getting bad again when singing in the shower turned to stinging.
when drinking water began to feel like a chore.
i knew it was bad when all i had to look forward to was a bottle and how good it would feel on an empty stomach.
it’s bad again.