I once never pictured myself without the affections of a man who didn't have sweet adjectives for me
A man who wouldn't describe my kisses as sweet or compare me to rivers or trees or other powerful stances in nature
A man who wouldn't romanticize me as words spoken from other men in a time long since past.
I'm an enigma, a song, a piece of angel food cake
A thought, a meaning, a purpose for these boys
I'm red lipstick on a cheek on a friday night
I'm expensive sushi and wine
I'm delightfully mentally ill in a way only they felt like they could cure
I'm a seven month relationship ending in a **** and a break up and a roll over car crash
I'm a ****** virginity with no foreplay because i uttered the word yes so softly under my breath

And i am simultaneously none of these things.
I'm a song without words strummed in your guitar, played from the heart so strongly i couldn't stop the tears from rolling down my face
I'm a girl who denied love for you when i was busy loving a boy who loved drugs so much he couldn't feel his fingers and he loved other girls with nicer bodies and hair and eyes and the comparisons between what he had and them
I'm a girl who asked you to retie my bikini string eight years ago knowing the enticement it'd make you feel

I've learned a lot to become the girl you want to sleep next to every night, and for that i thank the boys who used to love me for their lessons and teachings and letting me become someone worthy.

It's absolutely incredible that something as small and meaningless as i feel my existence to be can find something so incredible as you in my lifetime
You have small galaxies in your eyes, warm light brown surrounded by shiny green where so many great ideas live and breathe and thrive
You have strong shoulders and arms from a sustainable work of lifting and carrying and moving and helping and i cannot help but feel anything but safe wrapped in them
I've known you fully for so long and it's been simply amazing to watch you become the man you are today and i feel so incredibly lucky to take a part of it

I hope you sleep next to me just as you are now for the rest of our lives

I've spent so much time in my own head I'm not sure if I know how to leave anymore

Sometimes I look out the windows and think about the things that could be

Then I turn away and go back to where it's warm and comfortable.

Recently, i cracked the window a little;
the breeze is nice.

I miss the me I was at the peak of my eating disorder. She was worse than me, but more distracted. She had purpose. Talent. Control. She knew how to get through a day and she knew how to stay small. She loved the way her body was changing. Now she is small. Pushed back to the furthest corners of my mind, until I look in a mirror. Then she is quickly hushed. I miss her ideas and her thoughts. But mostly I miss how much I don't remember from being her.

I've wanted to **** myself since I was 12. I don't know when it started or how, but there are many whys. New reasons have come every year, and old reasons have an interesting staying power that you wouldn't really expect. Sure, I forgive. My traumas are not the result of active hate towards me. They are ramifications, small waves from a rock dropped in a pool that gently washed over me and through me, caking salt in the fundamental components of my heart and soul. They are me and they are not me. I've made so much progress, and I have so much to be proud of but I'm not. I try to convince myself I am in conversations with my friends, mother, therapist. You're so eloquent, they say. So introspective. Am I? I'm just lying. I'm only happy when I'm ******, drunk or both. Sometimes I seem okay sober, and sometimes I'm more okay than others. Even when I'm more okay I still want to die. I could be driving down the road listening to my favorite songs and I will still think of five separate things I can do to **** myself. But it seems selfish. My mother has brought me into this life, not exactly intentionally but she raised me the best she could and has a lot of pride in the woman she thinks she's caused. My friends rely on me for support, or even advice on how to help other friends because "they know I've been though this already" as if it's not still happening. I don't want to **** myself. Not really. I want to disappear like ******* Hermione, you know? Just forgotten, no one gets hurt. I'm loved. But it's not enough.

My heart is so full of love but none of it is for me.

I want to create love for myself inside my own heart.

I want to understand I am fundamentally flawed without hating myself for those flaws.

I want to give myself the same benefits I do others.

I want to hold myself to the same standards as I do my friends.

I want to feel good. Whole. But for now i feel empty.

a lot of the emotions I've once felt are nothing but distant memories
small faded parts of me that are hidden deep within,
reignited by specific switches that come in all sorts of shapes and sizes

small faded parts of me tucked away so neatly and carefully
as to forget they were ever a part of me until they are randomly selected to switch on once again.

I've never really been sure who I am or what I'm for, but I know I'm sure I'm going to die one day, and sometimes that's comforting enough.

A man's influence is not one that he himself can fully comprehend
A man's influence is not one easily seen until much, much too late

I don't know what he felt in his last hours and I can't tell you the last time I thought of him before now but I can tell you I am heartbroken in a way I never could have expected

And I'm sure neither did he.

I remember making fun because "jo" was a boys name and I didn't apologize until there were tears in your eyes
I remember your long curly blonde hair and your crooked teeth
The baby fat on your face
The freckles across your nose
I remember you better than I remember him
We were only eight or nine
Falling in line
One After the other

But I've fallen in love with you over the years,
Thinking of you tenderly only when it hurts the most
And I desperately hope you're okay
(Or at least as okay as I claim to be)

It's easy to fall back into old habits
Old dim places that are all too familiar
Might not be where you wanted to be
May have lost a lot of pages
But it's warm here in the dark
-
Waking up has never been easy
Especially when you're already conscious
Knowing what needs to be done has always been easy
I just can't remember how to start
-
Three different notebooks
Right now they just make me feel bad
But maybe with consistent record
I'll find the patterns and save myself faster
-
I want to help the me I'll become
I've stuck up for myself when I normally wouldn't
I'm going somewhere, someday, somehow
Thirty steps forward, ten steps back

reliving traumatic experience through other's similar experiences isn't a great way to numb my own triggers but every once in a while I seem to give it a good try
-
lying to others about the severity of my experiences isn't a great way to numb my own triggers but I seem to give it a good try
-
getting high every night and drunk almost every other night isn't a great way to numb my own triggers but I seem to give it a good try
-
flipping my life upside down and dealing with multiple changes at once isn't a great way to numb my own triggers but I seem to give it a good try
-
staying in bed all day watching TV and movies I don't really like isn't a great way to numb my own triggers but I seem to give it a good try
-
But at least I'm trying

becoming so in tune with my emotions feels like a mistake

I wish I could take it back and learn how to fall asleep sober

how do you learn yourself after years
of ignoring what that could be
chasing after dreams of potential popularity
so you write down your incomplete thoughts
as a means to get to know yourself

can't act like a person you don't know
unless you start trying

bind my wrists in silk
tenderly tie me up
sweetly sharpen your knives
and don't hold your tongue

tell me you like me
tell me you see me
for who I am
and who I was meant to be.
gently create cuts in my skin,
and get to know what's inside

A longing for the places I've never been
And a longing for the unknown
Because maybe it's better than this
Perpetual cycles and lists
To Do lists
Grocery lists
Lists of symptoms for my therapist
since I seem so happy in our sessions
Thanks, I'm dissociating
And I have no sense of self

I want to run
I want to leave
I want to scream

I'm just too young

Just because you're comfortable doesn't mean you're safe
Although you keep quiet more people want to know your name
But all they want to do is know
they don't care to learn how it feels coming out of the curl of a lover's mouth
they don't care how it was turned against you when you were smaller
And how you made yourself smaller and smaller trying to disappear forever until you realized it only made people see you more and more

They want to know your sins
They want to know your signs
The number on the scale
The color of your *******
What your tongue feels like
Information without emotion
Emotion without care
Care without depth
Depth without water
But you're thirsty, so so thirsty

So you drink
Drink until you're comfortable
And you let out more words than you mean
And you *****.

the back of my throat scratches as a smile is forced deep into the muscles on my face, taking along with it ounces of the strength I have left

It's draining, it really is,
watching the spiral of water go down the drain, stained by my hair dye, reminiscent of what used to be

Days used to be easier than they are now, but they also used to be harder

Time passes anyway.

who knows if you're still looking
who really cares?
I've written multiple messages I've never sent
and I never will send them.

I will probably never talk to you again.

I spent so long being bitter over the words and actions you gave that hurt me that bruised me and left me distrustful and angry

but honestly

I was the one who allowed you to walk all over me
I was the one who let you come inside, decorate me the way you felt I should be

I was the one who let you use me.

I was your muse,
I was your lover,
I was your project,
I was your excuse.

And that's okay.

I don't like you.
I never liked you.
I didn't like you when you started dating my best friend because you had a ****** sense of humor and she deserved better.
I didn't like you when you hit on me despite dating my best friend, and when you told her all the things you thought I was better at than her (despite her being just as great if not greater than me!)
I didn't like you when she finally left you.
I didn't like you when you used every manipulation tactic you could think of trying to get her back.
I didn't like you when in your resulting depression you told me you loved me.
I didn't like you when you stalked my blog.
I didn't like you when you seemingly gave up and deleted your own.
I didn't like you when you created a new one and decided to message me.
I didn't like you when I responded. I didn't know who you were, and when I found out I stopped.
I didn't like you when you attempted to readd me on social media despite me deleting you.
I didn't like you when you decided to send me Snapchats although I didn't accept your request.
I didn't like you when you decided to tell me you loved me again.

If you're wondering why you can't see any of my **** online anymore, this is why.

I want to like everybody.
the cashier, the man with his dog, a woman
crossing the street
my coworkers, my interactions

and yet despite trying my hardest there are just a few who leave a sour taste in my mouth
some just don't leave an impression
I've tried and tried and tried
but it ***** the energy out of me faster than they'd notice a sliver of effort, difference

I'm tired! I've slept eight hours and I'm still tired!
my body aches and my muscles tighten
Trying to be the best, kindest, most generous I can be
Treating others the way I want to be treated
And getting walked over like a stone gravel path
unnoticed, unappreciated
and with every step my heart breaks
But I don't want to close myself
I don't want to build up walls of brick, stone, metal
I don't want to stop loving and trying for the ones that are hard
Because what does that make me?

your voice was as toxic as poison
and as alluring as a new song
trapped in your cycles
I found myself

I broke out, I broke free
I'm healthier than I could ever wish to be
I threw myself into school, work
I'm making new friends

I smoke a lot more, sure
but that's not the worst it could be
I haven't lost any weight
and I'm saving my money, see

So leave me be! Leave me alone!
Your toxins don't deserve my mind

where did you sleep last night?
in your own bed or the arms of another
trapped facing the corner
screams running through your mind

it's easy to do and it happens to the best
over and over and over
the emotions running over your chest
each a new kind of noise echoing
in your ears? in your soul
in your being through and through

your pale face, unrecognizable
Distraught
your mouth forms the words but they won't come out
You killed him! you killed him! you killed him!
blood on your hands, streaks on your face
Who? Who was he?
a young boy, no more than three
innocence, a feeling,
Where? Where is he?
I scream and I scream and I scream

and no sound comes out,

pale yellow, for the dreams
for when I wake up screaming
yet can't remember in the morning

for when I wake up scared
but don't know why

for when I toss and turn,
to write the reasons for every motion.

baby pink, for the thoughts
for when I order something extra
in the drive thru

for when I chew gum instead of a meal,
or convince myself a glass of water is enough

for when I eat nuts or crackers
and convince myself that the substance is better than nothing
.
and yet their pages are blank.

today I had a bad day, filled with anger and tears
and I still feel the same emotions
I know their causes, meanings
and yet:
Numbers don't matter
I don't want to die

not anymore

you travel alone sometimes, to distant stars, to the distant future
you go where you're needed but not where you're wanted
delicately walking, your presence undisturbing of the dirt below you

you make the greatest impact to yourself only
an observer, a thinker
trying to make things slightly brighter

I'm scared to be alone sometimes, and selfish too
I go where I'm wanted but not where I'm needed
and I pick blossoms off of trees and put them in my hair
and I leave footprints in the mud

your need to be alone is fascinating, taking in sights, colors, sounds, smells,
with no one to share it with

I admire your strength and willpower, you admire my desires and the flowers in my hair

I hope once you reach new lands, where the ground is softer and the trees glisten in the light of their star,
you think to yourself,

"she would like it here."

a last resort, or the first
it's become blurred
probably not the worst
but not so great either

just one of the paths to feel more human
to feel comfortable in my skin
to stop the constant attack
and hide the pain within

subtle yet strong
stronger with others
the more numbing the better
ingrained ideals from mothers'
perspective, but not what she wanted
for me

I scream into the trees,
"I want to leave!"

and they whisper, through the voice of the wind,
you can't,
you can't,
You can't.

the best way to tell when you're in love is to look up at the vastness of the stars and think of the things tying you to the earth.

the force of gravity, sure, if we're being technical, but what is keeping your soul here?

your movie rental late fees and your brakes squeaking and the bruises on your legs seem like nothing compared to your innermost desires projected on the cold night sky

and when I looked up, I thought of you holding my hand.

I think about you most often in the early morning, right after a dream
The sun beaming through my curtains, bright and sharp

I am at peace.

I guess it's easier to put it into a four letter word but it still doesn't hold the same. I hated you for a short time and now I just want you to understand what you've done and how much it affects others. You live your life pleasing yourself and feeling bad for yourself and using others for your pleasure and I, in the time I've known you, ever seen you truly care for another past what they could do for you. Sure, you're good at pretending, but as soon as someone stops doing what you want, they don't matter to you any more. And that's what I've become.
-
I was a temporary masturbatory aid that you pretended to lay feelings in until I became a real person to you.

there's a layer of dust on your furniture
and your things haven't been touched

when you come home
you'll still be miles away

the years we spent in constant contact
were too easy to drop
and fade away

but this doesn't mean they were nothing to me
our late night chats and our cups of tea
you really, really did help me

you struggle so much with your identity,
because you base it all on appearance
just like we both used to

i can't remember when we stopped talking
somewhere between a rainy day
and a random wednesday

it started this way because we were busy
at least that's what i told myself
but really it's just i'm getting better
and you aren't

(and i feel so guilty for that,
you deserve to be better
just as much as i do.
but i don't think
you want it,
yet)

I dreamt about you last night.
It's been months
since the last one

I dreamt that you missed me
And it made me feel better
like I was worth something to you

You saved the things I gave you
In a brown shoebox in your closet
and you showed them to me
one last time
-
I woke up with a bitter taste in my mouth, which also reminded me of you.

your hand in mine feels like where its meant to be
and next to me in my bed is where you're meant to be
holding me when i'm half awake at 5am
in the soft light of morning

you're so warm and familiar
yet so distant and new
i don't know what you want with me yet
but i hope for the best.

She brewed herself a cup of coffee,
her husband already fed.
Sent off into the horizon
with provisions and well wishes
and kind professions of love
to keep his heart warm.

She brewed herself a cup of coffee.
She'd lain in bed an extra hour,
Awake,
hands reaching to the spot where her husband belongs.
She sips on her coffee
two sugars, splash of cream,
and stares at the bleak horizon.

She brewed herself another cup of coffee,
she wasn't going to sleep anyway.
The rain pours and pours, the wind rattles the windows
and her fragile frame.
She tries to quiet her thoughts with reading
and she lays on the right side of the bed.

She brews herself another cup of coffee,
and it tastes extra bitter,
but it's the coffee she's always had.
She sleeps on the left side, as always
just in case.

I am my own worst enemy
I am my own bully, my disease,
I only see in mirrors.

The only way to get rid of her is to get rid of me.
The only way to fight back is to fight myself.
the only way to hurt her is to hurt myself.

I drown her out with ***** on weekday nights and weekday mornings I put on my powdered sugar mask and hide from her cruelties and casualties

My body shakes and shivers in the middle of the night and I fight and I fight for something that is better than this

I'm trying to wash you away but I can't seem to get clean again and my eyes burn when I think of you and how you treated me like some piece of furniture instead of a complex being with thought and how you used me for your own personal physical emotional gains and I deleted all the pictures on my phone and I've hidden you everywhere I can but inside you're fighting back and I don't know where to put this feeling anymore.

the more and more i reminisce the more i realize the love you gave me wasn't meant for me

i was your pretty illusion
and i was your garbage dump
for all your whole lies
and half truths

i bit my lip and felt sick for you
but no amount of sick was enough
for you to want to learn me
to know me
to understand

you made me climb to the tallest mountains and scream out the name of a boy i never understood because he didn't want me to know who he was.

You're a liar
a sinner
You're no good at all
I don't know what you're looking for
but I hope you don't find it
you tore me apart looking
and didn't bother to fix
the mess of me you created.

I'll pick myself up
and dust myself off
I don't need your help
I never needed it.

Who am I to be deserving of such intense emotion?
But I can't imagine who else I would be
I wouldn't trade anything about myself because it gives me the perspective I deserve
Humble and cautious; unabashedly me
the slight differences that could be, would be
A butterfly effect
A small subtlety
and an entire different self

But what I desire is what others can give me
Attention and affection is what makes me feel good,
what makes anyone feel good.
I don't deserve it more
than anyone else
But I may want it more
Or else I'll find it in inhuman devices
where the devil himself has taken part
Luring me into things one should not rely
but I can't sleep without him
and he understands his hold.
The idea of commitment entices me,
one person to love me for the rest of my days
But what else? Whom else?
Love is freedom and flowers and chocolate cake
And I can't eat it and expect it to be there the next day.

another night spent in the dark
letting the emotions wash over me
never quite settling as the alcohol
warms my body
but not enough.

i think about your deep hazel eyes and how they change
but no matter how much i pay attention i can't find the pattern
green is for ?
brown is for ?
does somewhere in between mean you're fond of me again?

i try to find meaning in meaningless things
chance encounters become constellations
and numbers of flowers become purposeful

to be the equivalent
of a three room studio apartment
with a TV set three times the price of your rent
that makes up your sad little world
is such an incredible insult

I am worth so much more

i haven't looked in your eyes in so long i forgot how once they could make me barely breathe,
and how many times did we watch the sunset together?
but you never really watched the sun,

because i was the sun to you.

i am her
predictor of the future
meticulous as a clock,
and as complicated too.
alone with my thoughts
you can faintly hear ticking
as i process what's to come.

affected by the past,
evidence and data shows
my next possible steps.
creator of a five year plan
to leave this town for fog,
ocean,
and small bookstores.
my skin is dry as i waste time
planning on how to save it.

i've researched career options,
tuition, moving, housing costs
for the best way to leave
the best way to live
in unfamiliar streets with unfamiliar faces
and have enough to pay for my coffee


you are him
predictor of the present
carer for the now, the what is
uplifted and bold
and impulsive as hell

i worry for your health
and for your broken seat belt
you worry for mine
and how my heart hurts

but my future couldn't keep you down,
and what we had slipped through my fingers like water
and for two people who could never really be
we tried so ******* hard.

i belong only to myself
my heart belongs only to me
and I'll find a way to fill myself
with the love i want so dearly

But today I am empty.

take one shot for every time you look in the mirror and you're disgusted by what you see
take two shots for every time you desperately seek the scale that's been hidden from you
you feel weak but have you lost weight?
what's your number?
what's your number?
who are you?
what's your number?
seeking to find a numeral definition
finding it means knowing and the lower the more worthy
the lower the less grasping at porcelain the less disgust in the mirror
less to grab, less to hold,
fading and fading until you're gone

maybe the number will reach zero some day and i'll be one with the stars and i'll be held by the sisters of Pleiades and they'll stroke my hair and tell me how nice it was for me to drop by

with death comes new breath
new life, love, longing
a grand sense of belonging
and a fresh taste of hope
that what was once broken
can be restored once more

flowers will continue to grow between the cracks of the pavement
and trees will continue to escape towards the skies
and I will continue to love you in each breath I take, even when it slightly singes my lungs

as the rain pours down on the streets and my clothes
and the cold wears me down to the very core
all i can do is remember and remember
the texture of your skin on the tips of my fingers
the softness in your hair, the harsh words you said
and the sensation of my blood on my hands

it wasn't the first time, and it won't be the last

there will be another house, another home
three bedrooms, two bathrooms
just like the last one, a different number
a different street
a different harshness underneath my feet
and my knees, but the same cold porcelain
and the same homesick feeling
i've felt for as long as i can remember

The way I hate you washes over me in waves. The weight of the water crushes my rib cage, and I want to scream louder than I've ever screamed before.

The way I love you tears at me from the inside out. My heart bursts under the pressure of the pain you've given me, and I want to scream louder than I've ever screamed before.

Physical pain is incomparable to this.

driving down a windy road 35 miles per hour at seven thirty in the evening with flowers and balloons in the back seat shouldn't have ended with me being suspended sideways for thirty minutes while they tried to make it safe to get me out of what was left of my first car and no matter how many times i draw a bath i can't get rid of the feeling of my left hand covered in my own blood and the small slivers of glass that are still in my hands or the swollen over-sized bruises that adorn my legs and my face  

and regardless of the scent of lavender and apples i cant look at my damaged body anymore

did you ever really love me at all?

I trusted you
Wholly and genuinely
I told you things about myself
That I couldn't bring myself to
tell others,
and you tore me apart
from the inside out
manipulation and betrayal
don't have the connotations
to how badly you've hurt me
I love you and I love you and I thought you did too
but actions speak louder than words,
and I don't know if I can forgive yours
and maybe that's why I can't
run away from the taste of blood in my mouth
and the blood in my hair and the blood in my favorite sweater
there was so much blood,
and you weren't there

there's nothing quite like
a blood soaked sweater
and a near death experience
to put in perspective
i deserve so much more