my stomach is in knots
i keep searching and searching
rereading words and text
flipping through pages
unable to find the answer
to why?

why?

why what,
why i am like this
how can i stop it
was i made to be this way?
is this who i really am?
i don't want to be this
and i don't want to be me
but i can't find the reason why
and i have failed

my hands are shaking
and my throat is tight
my muscles are tense
and my stomach is in knots
and i have failed

i'm not the girl my mother wanted me to be
and i'm not sure how to find her
and i'm still here
searching and searching
rereading words and text
flipping through pages
unable to find the answer

although i've missed grey skies
they're not as comforting compared
to your arms

although i've missed the soft sound of rain
it's not as soothing compared
to the softness of your lips
and the sound of your voice

although i've missed hot tea
it's not as warm compared
to lying in bed with you

"you're a sad girl
a man's achilles heel"


it doesn't help.

I dream of looks that burn
And eyelashes that ****
To make grown men cry
And young girls whimper
Dressed to repress
And drowned in romance
and envious glances
Yet I falter for young daffodils
And joy and laughter
And I dream of love
And happy ever after
But I put so much effort
And care and tenderness
Into the thought of others
There's nothing left for me
.

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

heads
i love you
i really do
i listen to music that reminds me of you
and think about the good times

tails*
i hate you
i really do
i listen to music that reminds me of you
and cry about the good times

although i'm not in love with you anymore
i still think about you fondly in my dreams

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

pink hearts and red flowers are easily handled
movie tickets and sun exposure
in the name of seeing one another
for a little bit longer

dinner dates and meeting my mother
holding each other for hour upon hour
under the impression that things
might be okay

and my ribcage is disappearing
underneath layers and layers of good intention
and i can feel the masks withering and cracking
and i am scared

it doesn't have to be romantic
i'd get them myself if i could
just a big, bunch of flowers
it's very easily understood

because it would make me happy
it's a gift full of life
they don't have to mean much
only to be bright
beautiful, lively
and they only last a while
which makes their presence much sweeter
their time is limited,
but i enjoy them infinitely
and the life they breathe into my lungs

and it'd be nice to know that you're thinking of me, and you just wanted to buy me flowers

i guess it was sort of ironic as it's a place where people to go to be treated that they couldn't properly take care of a plant. it may not have been their fault, but it was odd to see shriveled up leaves on top of the *** full of dirt, and a bamboo stick pointing up to give direction to what was no longer there. the *** itself was colorful, adorned in hues of red and blue to give hints toward the life that was once there, and maybe that's what i do for myself. i adorn myself in hues of purple, green, blue to imply a liveliness that i no longer feel deep within. to cover up an emptiness that once held some form of life, some form of happiness and innocence. it's not like i've had it hard, i mean, things haven't been absolutely bright and sunny but i haven't experienced great loss but somehow i have lost myself. it's an odd feeling, because i know i will be okay and that everything will turn out just fine but i can't believe that in my heart and i just can't feel okay. and maybe that's fine. it's healthier to express an emotion than to cover it up and hide it, because it will build upon itself until you can no longer withstand the weight and oh, god, i know how it feels to tremble and crumble underneath the weight of unfelt emotions.

but is this better?

i look to extremes to cure the numbness in my chest and i can't care if it's good for me or not.

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.

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

you're so pretty
did you know that?
your hair is soft
your eyes are soft
your skin is soft
your voice
your movement
your disposition
is soft

you're so pretty
i can't comprehend the fact
that you would ever want
to be like me

you're so pretty
it would be nice
to hold you a while
maybe watch a tv show
or a movie

you're so pretty
i really want to know you
inside out
your fears, your ambitions
your loves, your hates
you
all of you

every
last
detail

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

you consider me pretty
i know because you've told me
several times before
i know because i've felt you
react to me

i know you would have never loved me
even if you thought you could
(which you didn't)
i wasn't ruined enough

your own sadness must be complemented
compared
with mine
i wasn't ruined enough

someone whom i thought was your friend
pulled me aside
because she thought you might
and she chose to warn me
but you didn't
i wasn't ruined enough

but you will never really know how ruined
tarnished
*****
used
filthy
i truly am

you will never really know how he
whispered to me
breathed on me
pressed on me
pressured me
complimented me
insulted me
threatened me

touched me


i find it incredibly insulting
that "emotionally damaged"
has become attractive
romanticized
wanted
by guys like you

it doesn't really make me feel better
when you tell me how ******* sorry you are
because you knew what you were doing
as you did it

it doesn't really make a difference
that i drive you crazy
because it didn't matter to you
when it mattered to me

it doesn't really affect much
that you wish me well, that you're ashamed
once you drop an apple,
it will remain bruised
and change it's texture

sorry doesn't change what happened
the things you said to me
are still tattooed on my skin
no matter how hard i try
to rub them off

it's a faded blue color, pressed from being unworn
when i last wore it i was a different me
and i been many different people in between
along a natural path to find myself
i've done unnatural things,
said several things that i would never let pass
my lips again.

i've learned and i've grown, most awkwardly shown
in a faded blue dress in the back of my closet
now hugs curves that weren't there for the last
girl who wore it, and a few inches shorter

the girl back then wouldn't dare to do the things i've done alone with you,
and she wouldn't let herself feel what i feel for you, too

and she would blush at the words and the steam in the air in the back seat of my car.

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 dream of a death that is reminiscent of sleep,
too deep
to be
in control
and to keep
my mind away

and maybe i will find relief within

uncertainty is my security blanket
hiding the fears and doubts
instilled in me from the past

doubts with no reason
fears with no scares
alone with a glass
and my own thoughts
and memories of the past

i want to be careless
and i want to be free
but there is a burden
pressed upon me
a feeling in my chest
with no rhyme or reason
and maybe that's why you
taste like each season
i can't just accept
things at face value
because that's not what i've seen
repetition teaches lessons
i've learned too many times
and it's unfair to apply these teachings
because you've shown me nothing
to imply the negatives

i'm nervous and anxious
and actually kind of scared
but my hand is yours to hold
for as long as you want to keep it
and i just have to hope
you'll want it for a while

i feel the ache deep down in my spine
and i take whatever i need
to pass the time

you're more than aware
i can't tell if you care
or if you tried

it's easiest to summarize
you know what i want
you know what i need
i'm here when you want
and i'm here when you need
but where have you gone?

i bite my nails
and i bite my lips

my room is a mess
and i pick at dead skin

i look in the mirror when i
first wake up
and right before bed

i fall too hard
and i bruise too easily

and i write about boys
who will never love me

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

nothing can compete
to the ache in my stomach
after confirming
that i am a failure

i waited too long
to rid my stomach
of how i've made myself feel

i hope you hear a song i showed you
in a store, or on the street

and i hope it makes you feel
absolutely awful

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.

pacing back and forth
in shoes not meant for walking
until my heels bleed

drinking caffeine to stay awake
and letting the caffeine make me shake
as it hits an empty stomach

allowing missed calls to go to voicemail
because i'm not prepared to take them

staying up until 4:33
to avoid the offers of death my dreams give me

it's not real
none of it's real
but i have to stay awake
drink caffeine that makes me shake
and bathe in the sunrise

you've got me sitting
alone
in my room
listening to the music you like
trying to figure you out
trying to decide if you like me
if you want me

my mother says
"he probably doesn't know either"

and i'm frustrated
because someone has to
someone has to understand
and i don't
and i have to
i have to understand
you're a puzzle i can't solve
is this something i'm doing to myself?
nothing is as analytical as i need it to be
your tones of gray are confusing me
and i can't find a way to organize
the things you say to me

but to say i don't enjoy the task
would be a lie
because it does, in fact,
make me feel alive
i want you to want me,
that's very true
but it won't be easy
to convince me
that it's okay to want you

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.

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.

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

i still remember how it felt
to have your fingernails
drag across my skin
and how wanted i felt
because you actually wanted
to kiss me.

i know you regret touching me
and you'll never know how badly it hurts
that you will never want to again
maybe that just means it's time
considerably past due
and you never really knew
that i ever did
but i don't love you
anymore
(and that hurts more
than you never loving me)

although we don't speak anymore
and we have every right not to
i still wonder how you are
from time to time

i wonder what you think about
i wonder how you're doing
last i heard it wasn't so great
are you feeling better?

i wonder what you do to pass the time
i wonder who your friends are now
and what you do together
are you doing alright?

i wonder if your plans have changed
i wonder if you still like the music you did
or if you've found something new
are you okay?

but i think
most of all
even if it's as just a friend
or someone to talk to

i wonder if you miss me

your close friends are leaving you soon

and i don't know if i'll be here when they do

unless you clean up your act real quick

there's not much else i can do

because i'm going to love me before i love you

"dance with me, please"
he grabbed my hands
and i did my best
but i was too drunk
and it was hard to move
and there was no music

he placed his hand
on the small of my back
as he kissed me
but i was too drunk
and it was hard to move
and there was no music

"so, you're kinda freaky?"
he asked as he noted
the bruises left on my neck
but i was uncomfortable
and i was confused
and i didn't like the way he looked at me

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.

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 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 miss
         the smell of your hair
         the texture of your skin
         your arms around my waist
         the music you would play
         the comfort of your bed
         your hand on my thigh
         the safety in your eyes
         the cupcakes on my porch
         your slightly curved spine
         the way you shout my name
         the way you text me where i am
         your fingers around my neck
         the bruises on my ribs
         the pain in my shoulders
         your fists against my skin

yearning for orange-red and wind
she likes to go on long walks
down the streets of her home town
she feels most at home in these empty streets
walking alone
with nothing to hear but the wind in her hair
and her own thoughts.

maybe she liked being alone at first
and maybe she's gotten used to it
to where she's found an odd sort of
comfort in her own company,
"don't come close," she said.
"i won't let you hurt me again."

a boy was mean to me today
my mother gave me a hug
and told me it will be okay
they deserve each other anyway

i didn't fall asleep in math today
i swear to god it's a miracle
i'm not failing that class
though my efforts make me feel that way

one pill to take the edge off
one pill to calm me down
one pill to make me feel better
one pill to make me drown

to drown in the feelings of nothing
to make it easier to sleep
to keep away the dreams
the nightmares
the thoughts of you

please leave me be

i've never been good at sudoku
i erased all the numbers to start again
how i wish i could erase all of my feelings
that easily

my pencils have no erasers anymore
and i think that's ironic
and symbolic
for how many mistakes i make
on paper
in life
with you
with me

one pill to take the edge off
one pill to calm me down
one pill to make me feel better
one pill to make me drown

i begin to feel light
i begin to feel soft
i begin to feel bright
maybe i won't dream
maybe i will sleep
          through the night

please leave me be

noun*
the ability to produce a desired or intended result.

i
want you
to want me
but i don't know
if i have that ability
to make you want me
as much as I want you to
but oh, goodness, do i want
you, and I really want you to see
how very pretty you can make me feel

if boys like you
wanted me, sober,
as much as you do
when you're drunk
then maybe i wouldn't
feel so hideous
and useless
and used
and sad

my body has begun
to bear the weight
you've put on my mind

i don't know how i got
these scratches and bruises
but i'm blaming you

it's easier that way

it's still too warm to wear a sweater
but i'm wearing yours anyway
because i'd rather be too hot
than be without your comfort

it's the difference between
you're so awesome and
you're so interesting

it's the difference between
a compliment
and whistling at me in public

yes i express myself
yes i am noticeable
no i don't want you to touch me

yes i express myself
yes i am noticeable
no i don't need your opinion

it's not okay to kiss me
touch me
***** me
pet me
without permission

and it's not okay
that to avoid these gestures
i have to change
my expression

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 said you couldn't
fall in love

did you mean
with me
or someone else?

i would like to think there's
some kind of hope
some kind of light
some kind of love
that we can share
when we are less
broken

i don't want to fix you
but maybe
i can help you
to pick up the pieces
and buy the glue
that i know will work
because i have
used it
before

oh if only you knew
i would give anything
anything to be
anything other than me

freckled knees
freckled shoulders
freckled arms

"why are you so pale?
you look like you're dead
have you tried getting a tan?"

the irony stings my burned shoulders,

yes i have tried.

yellowed bruises remain on my thighs,
the thighs that got me called fat
in the seventh grade

"have you ever noticed
she's kinda fat? i mean
her thighs are so big,
they're like thunder thighs"

and from that statement a nickname was coined
that caused me to desperately,
desperately,
need to be skinnier
and i'll never be enough

"darling, are you okay?
please take this
go home and eat a big dinner
the wind is going to blow you away!"

i don't think i can ever win