I'm slipping
I'm falling

I can't keep it together
My seems are coming undone

My fat hangs off me in rolls
Don't eat
Don't you ******* eat

Look at your body
You are ugly and pathetic
Look at your uneven tan
You have fat *** thighs
Your body is disproportionate

Look at you genitilia
Just look at them
Look how wrong they are
They don't fit you
You are such a failure that your own body can't stand you

Let the self hate build up
Let the dysphoria overwhelm you
Let Ana whispering in your ear be heard
You owe yourself this much

You deserve every last bit

Past sliping
Past falling
You are done

Beauty was fake
Now it's death

Everyone expects greatness
But no one helps me achieving it

Dear mother,
You say you feel hurt by what I have done.
You say that my issues are affecting you.
But dear mother,
Do you not know where these issues come from?
I think you do, but your ego is too high for you to climb off it.
Dear mother
You say you love me,
But then you never show me.
I get guilt trips and tounge lashings.
You control every aspect of who I am.
You say I'm not valid.
You reject my love,
No matter how I explain it.
The things you make me do to make myself fit into your smal margine of "exceptable" make me sick to the stomach.
Dear mother,
Don't you know that when you get in my face about how I'm a girl and that's just the way it is and it won't ever change, just because I said I'm not a girly girl
Don't you know how much that ******* hurts?
You tear apart every aspect of myself and then wonder why I'm not perfectly put together.
Dear mother
When you get mad at me for being me. You're not keeping a daughter, you lost her long ago but you were too busy with yourself to notice.
But now you're not gaining a new child in her place.
You made sure if that.
Dear mother
Why do I try and do things my way?
I don't know, maybe because you abondond us and I had to fill your shoes.
I grew up by the age of 12.
I have had enough time to learn how things work for me, yet you insist on your way only.
And I'm a failure if I do it any way but yours.
Dear mother
You say you know everything about me.
But do you know about the nights spent crying,
The lunches spent hiding,
Or my head throbbing?
Do you know how dysphoria racks through my entire being, killing me a bit more everyday.
How about the things I write, or the thoughts in my mind slyly trying to turn me to their side.
Dear mother
Do you know that wasn't my only try?
That was only the one that would have worked.
I tried to reach out but you only swept me under the rug and then stomped on it.
Dear mother
I am aware of my chance at a new start in Sweden,
But dear mother do you realize you are the one stopping me from that.

This time last year, my hair was down to my waist.
This time last year, I was 16 and in grade 11.
This time last year, I had a lot of "friends" I guess I was popular.
This time last year, I had a game plan, I thought I was going to be a Graphic Designer.
But this time last year was the first time I tried to **** myself.
Yes, to a lot of people this seems over dramatic, because "what 16 has anything to 'die over'", that's what my dad said anyways.
But I'm glad there are people whom are so naive when it comes to Depression.
I'm glad most people don't understand why I want to die.
I'm glad my little brother doesn't think the answer to "should I live?" is "no"
I'm glad my grandparents are concerned when I'm home alone.
I'm glad my mom gets worried when I don't answer my phone.
I'm glad my dad is scared when I'm not home by 4:30.

Seven months ago, I was put on Anti-Depressants.
Eight months ago, I finally told my parents how bad I was getting.
Ten months ago, I realized this probably isn't normal.
This time last year, I almost lost my battle to a bottle of pills,
And at this point if you were to ask how many suicide notes I had written, I would ask you to define.
Would you like to know how many separate notes I have complied into a binder, or how many notes I've left out for my parents to find after I've left the house?
At this point I can say I've had more attempts to end my life than I've had hours happy, but at least I can say I'm Still Trying.

The sun has set
So has my soul

In a land faraway,
Filled with nightmares and tear streaks

It lays in the bottom of a pit,
Abandoned

I once tried to retrieve it,
Now I have scars on my arms and hips

Once a friend sought after it,
Only to get lost in the darkness and never return

But then once a girl got it
She was the girl with the wolf eyes

She climbed into the pit, my hand in hers,
Slowly she picked it up
And pulled us both out

She cradled it in her arms
And nursed it back to health, just as I had hers

We lived happily souls together,
Patching each others as we went along

Then one night she decided to take my soul and throw it back,
Slicing, tearing, ripping bruising,
Back into the deep dark pit

She simply disappeared into the night,
Never to be heard from again

I can't help but wonder what happend to her and her soul

The tears of a final farewell are the saddest of them all.