A place where it doesn't matter who I am
What words I put on the paper
How I feel or what I mean
Whether it be hidden or clear
I don't have to rhyme
Follow a strict set of rules
A place where I can get all my feelings out
It is like a yellow flower in the middle of a field of cotton plants
Unique in its own way
The only one of its kind
I don't have to worry about anything being right
because no matter what I write it right to me

It is a freeing art
An art where my tears can form words
and the sorrow and grief I am feeling can paint a picture to the reader
It can produce warmth like a fire on a winter's day
The delicate lace that shrouds my heart
when I am feeling most down
lets me to freely write how I am feeling without
the thought of another
It is one art that no matter what
Practice can never make perfect
It is something that is different to everyone
No matter how much one can try
There is no box to conform to

Stumbling upon this art years ago
I look back and smile
Thanking past me
for walking into that meeting
Seeing the faces around that table and taking a timid step forward
That little, timid, shy step is what unlocked this great art
In my life and for that I am thankful

I am terrified of what my age has become
Calling the weridos Gay because they don't fit in
Calling their friends whes and Fkboys because of their genders
they say everything is Stigma free but look around
It sure isn't
I am terrified my Anxiety might show and I'll have to just brush it off
as those who look at me weird because of this illness
My Grade doesn't understand that words can hurt
They say oh words don't hurt the tone  does
But A man can scream at a woman" You're a S**T!" or can say it Monotoned
Both sentences will hurt that woman the same
Those kids laughed when 13 reasons why came out
Not grasping that the show was specifically for them
That people feel this way and that it isn't some comedy act

They don't understand why my voice stutters whenever I speak
Or that my hand writing is bad because of my weak hands
To them all I am is a weird girl who cried during a project because of something I lived through

I am terrified of what my grade has become
That they have lost all common sense
They say no one is born equal but they won't even try to help
They just laugh at those who seem different
And it is stupid

They make fun and harass those who aren't like them
and the Administration turns a blind eye
Saying Oh boys will be boys or that they were only just having fun
Well you know what you can have fun and not make someone cry for  your own pleasure

I'm terrified of what my Grade has become because soon they won't realize what they are doing is wrong
I stress that I won't ***** up that my grades are good that I make a good impression
My Grade says they have stress
But They don't know what real stress is until you are sick from the stress you have
They don't know what real stress is until you can't think back to a time that you ever relaxed
They don't know what real stress is until you have realized you haven't eaten all day because you were too busy worrying about that grade you got on the insignificant quiz  

I am Terrified about my grade because soon we will be adults and they will not be able to know right from wrong

Happy
Sad
Confused
Depressed
Lonely
Social
These are all the things I am and always feel
I try and reach out
To get out of my comfort zone
But I can only do so much
When all I feel is unwanted
I see all my 'friends' hang out with one another
but never ask me to do something
why is that?
My anxiety makes me think it's cause they don't want me
They don't like me
My therapist says no it's just that everyone does things with different people
Then how come until I reach out
I will sit alone in my room waiting for that text
inviting me to do stuff with other people

Sitting on her dorm room bed
Three feet from the floor
Not quite happy
But not quite sad
She wants to feel the ache in her bones
The hatred she has for herself
She wants that to come back
she doesn’t want to feel ok
Cause she’s not
Trying to make that decision
To walkout in the middle of the night
While her room mate sleeps
And to never come back
She’s ok right now
But she wants that sadness
The depression to fill her bones
She wishes she could pull the metaphorical trigger
And not live
Oh how she aches
To just want to not be ok anymore
Because when you’re not ok
You feel alive
Or at least she does
It’s terrible beast
She hates when she’s ok but hates when she’s sad
She just wishes she could not exist
That would be her ultimate goal
She types this in the dark as her roommate drifts off to sleep
I know cause that girl is me

Oh I wish I had a new hobby
I wish I was like others
everyone does such cool things
while I sit on my **** and do nothing
I try to do a hobby, or two but none excite me like they used to
So this is where I ask the people
Please help me with this task
what are somethings you do to help the time pass?

Happiness comes in the smallest of forms
Whether it be by simple words such as hello
or a simple gesture like a hug
Happiness comes when we all least expect it
As if the universe is trying make up for all the bad it has done you wrong