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 Jul 2014 Aysha Ahmed
Sita Alaska
is such an ugly word.
It's ******
      gory
      heart tearing.

People think they can
                                       understand
                                       sympathise
                                 relate on some level.
That's what I thought-
but you simply
                           CAN'T.

The depth of emotion for such
a blatant mi
                 ra
                cle is stronger
than you could
imagine.

And then it's
               taken
               away.

Against a door
on your knees
doubled over
throat hoarse
eyes swollen
tear tracks
skin under nails
scratches down face.
someday I can inspire others through my stories
someday I'll get a letter from a stranger, wishing me a good day
someday I'll be someone whom my parents would be proud of
someday I'll be someone whom others would look up to
someday...
someday

it breaks my heart knowing that my future seems a bit gloomy and dull
I always feel hopeless. like everything I do makes no sense
do I deserve that life I dream of? I feel like I don't
I feel like I'm going nowhere. it's hopeless.
I'm hopeless. I'm always hopeless.
Her hair smelled of salt and fruity shampoo,
A strangely pleasant mix of the two.
Actually everything about her seemed pleasant,

Her silky black hair
And her freckles all over her newly sunburnt skin
That pink glow came from her skin just as it came from her lips
Her feet digging in the sand
As someone grasps her hand

But no one notices him
For she is a beauty beyond compare.
She loosens her hand to run it through her hair.
She begins to get up, the hesitates.

There is a look, undefined, I just couldn’t place.
I know what that face could be
Because now I see that same face on me.
It is hard to explain, hard to define
That face that appeared on both hers and mine.

But again as I sit, seeing this girl
She has gotten up and is beginning to leave.
She sees me looking and smiles at me.
It’s one of those empty, meaningless smiles one gives a stranger.

That’s what we were then, don’t you remember??
When your hair still smelled of salt and shampoo
And your smile still faded when I looked away from you.

Things got better.
That boy is gone.
It took you a while, but you moved on,
Moved on to life and moved on to love
And moved on to that smile you give out of love.

Your smile has changed from that first day.
It is no longer empty and strange in that way.
Now it means much more than words.
And now sitting with you, hand in hand,
You smile down at your newfound best friend.

m.c.c.
I want to go
And keep going

To never look back
And always keep moving

Forward and forward
Feet on the ground
And never ever have to turn around

But I simply can’t
I must stay here
Filled with hope and filled with fear

But someday I might leave
Go far away and never return

Thats the only hope
That gives my fire a burn

m.c.c.
 Jun 2014 Aysha Ahmed
meg
I think it's funny that when it's 2 AM and I'm contemplating ripping off my skin my parents said I can talk to them to make it better, but 99% of the time, they're the ones that put me into that position.

I think it's funny that when I told my parents about slicing my thighs open they said that they'd get me help and everything would be okay, but everything has only gotten worse and now I feel like I'm living in hell.

I think it's funny how my parents promised me that they'd never take away the one thing that made me feel okay, but now it's 10 o'clock at night and I'm missing out on the fun that my best friends are having because I can't be trusted overnight to be with the only people that help me forget about how I'd be able to get blood to pour out of my body with something other than the blades I don't have anymore.

I think it's funny how my parents said that they'd never want me to leave this earth, but they're the reason why at 5 am I want to take 100 pills and drown myself with my tears and strangle myself with their voices of saying I'm not good enough.

I think it's funny how my mom swears that she knows what she's talking about and that she knows how to make everything better, yet she almost always seems to be the one that makes me want to break open my knuckles by punching the wall so many times.

I think it's funny that when I get upset about my parents making me be a prisoner in my own home, my dad says that there isn't anyone that I should be mad at except for myself, like I somehow could've prevented this from happening.

I think it's funny that almost every single scar on my body is from my parents shoving me into a wall and telling me that I'll never be good enough for this world and that I'm sure as hell not good enough for them.

I think it's funny that I'm only one person in a world of 7 billion people, and that my parents say that if I were gone I'd be missed, but I won't be, especially by them. and I can promise them that.
You said and you said,

   But you never did.
"Actions speak louder than words."
 May 2014 Aysha Ahmed
Hayleigh
And me i wait down the weight,
of the past
by leaving my plate,
Untouched.
Instead i devour the self hate,
And compensate
for the thoughts in my head.
By pacing along a path,
that'll only lead to my death bed.

But me,
I already died inside,
Many years ago.
And my heart it may slow,
But it does not show my ability to swallow
Mouthfuls of regret at time.

And me,
I combine,
Thought and feelings,
With actions,
I have no sense of attraction,
When i stare at my reflection
That screams rejection,
And i pull out a fraction
of the person i used to be.

Because me
I am 100 pounds too heavy,
80 pounds to heavy,
Every single pound too heavy.
And this weight loss is steady,
And these burdens i carry,
With this thinking that refracts me
Prevents me the ability,
To see any positive trait, or quality,
I drown in a sea,
Of unforgivable mistakes,
I break, crack, smash
Into a thousand pieces.

And you,
You try to iron out the creases,
With therapy and weight gain,
And to you,
I am a piece of paper with a name,
And my tiny frame encompasses
Years of self blame,
Disdain.

And me,
I slip through the cracks in the earth,
As i claw and clasp for an inch of
Self worth.
I try to ride and surf
This tide,
But the feelings inside,
The thoughts in my mind,
Do not allow me to find
Acceptance anywhere.

And me i exhale rotten air,
As i stare at my past,
And i try not to feel,
But this pain is so real,
So me, i skip a meal
And refuse the next,
I filter through the net,
Stomach regret,
And maybe one day yet,
Ill be ready for freedom,
Excited and apprehensive about the person,
I have the potential to become.
But for now,
My meal is undone.

And me,
I run
in fear,
There is no life here,
No beauty near.
And the sheer idea,
That maybe,
Just maybe
A number shouldn't dictate my self worth.
Shouldn't cause me to hurt, myself
That i am worth more,
The idea of closing the door,
Too much to bare.
So in silence I'll stare,
I'll restrict and starve,
And lose my hair,
And don't tell me I don't care,
Because it'd be impossible
For me to care any more,
But can't you see
There's a fire inside of me
And Im burning at the core.

And i guess that makes me a coward, a quitter,
But i can't see anyway fitter,
And it tastes so bitter
Chewing on the past,
And the taste it lingers
And fills up my glass.

But until you've walked in my ever shrinking shoes,
Do not judge me,
Or the choices i chose,
Do not question the freedom i lose,
This body i abuse.

Do not remind me
Of the sanity i could find
For you have no clue
Of the hurricanes
That run wild within my mind.
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