I was clean for a couple months, I'm not really sure how long, I stopped counting on things a while ago.
I'm not talking about drinking, *** or drugs, as i continue to indulge myself in those pleasures, but to a limit. I've never been one to lose myself at the bottom of a beer glass, or let ***** slink down my throat, although I do enjoy the feeling of warmth on my skin, it's soothing, for a change.
Alcohol is a reminder of him, No not a  break up or lost lover, I  wish it was as painless as that. It is more about abuse. The emotional and physical torture of him, how he laughed as his words slurred almost as quickly as my life faded and self harm became a sinister escape from this dooming thing we call, reality.
I thought I was okay. The doctors said I was, that's why they let me leave on the condition of pills but I felt useless having to rely on a smile in a bottle to make me feel, nothing, because I felt too much, at least that's what the nurses said. They wanted me to feel numb, so I did. I let the colour from my paintings disappear with salty tears and the dance in my soul snap,
I became grey in a black and white world, I didn't belong in.
So I stopped taking them and maybe that was the critical error in this sequence, but it felt so good to breathe for once. I could feel crisp air in my blackening lungs and as oxygen seeped it's way through my wilting body, I began to grow petals.
Only I'm not a flower nor a beauty, quite frankly I see myself as the opposite. I'm more like the watering can that feeds my friends and those around me, I guess I cut pieces of me apart in order to give it to others but that's what feeling alone does to you.

It's taken six years and a lifetime of strength to battle these demons that use my happiness to feed on. I pushed away the feelings of before, I tried to ignore, but I failed. I was told to reach out to someone before I let the blades touch me so I tried but I was ignored. Acid tears fell from my dimming blue eyes and without hesitation blades returned and ripped my pale skin, pale in colour and life. I'm told I see beauty in everyone, but never in myself and perhaps that's why the Crimson red looked beautiful on my canvas because there was colour on me. I felt alone and the shiver to my bones but I was found.
Perhaps it's a sign that I should try this living thing, one more time.

I'm sorry if I resemble a sparrow
With a fear of flight
When I shield my abdomen
With apologetic arms.

As if my trembling elbows
Could avert your glances
Long enough to distract you
From your examination of
The inadequacy
That lay beneath.

I'm sorry if my fingers stumble
Upon yours when you
Glide them across
Skin that's already been
Rewarded in stripes
And metal kisses.

I only say sorry
Because If I could,
I'd place my regret
In a envelope
Addressed to your eyes,
Entitled the parts of me you
Dare not see.

The parts that make me
Me.

see how these soft worn cotton sheets rub against my cheek?
see how the flame of the candle doesn't falter anymore?
see how the cotton candy pink of your lips rewrite history?
see how your kisses pull me out of my slumber and set fire to my veins?

do you see it, baby?

see how my heart churns and softens when i think of your name?
see how your skin feels like velvet underneath my mouth?
see how this promise may chip but it will never break?
see how this slow beating heart drags itself across oceans of blood just to be able to call itself yours, and yours alone?

do you see it, baby?

see how every kink and curl of your hair allows me to sleep at ease?
see how when you say you love me the night sky echoes it back to you
because that's where i hide my love for you? i fill up infinity with it, so the stars can murmur it everlastingly into your heart.

do you see it?
i hope you see it.
i do it all for your eyes only.


(so when you bat your eyelashes my heart beats in sync with it)

I wear messy buns to school
And a silver cross neck less my best friend gave me
I enjoy strumming the same four chords on a pink ukulele  
And enjoy staying late after track just to hang out with the coaches
I am now always listening to Jimmy Buffet and putting on sun screen
And am obsessed with plants, especially my new garden
I pray the divine mercy novena prayers at night
And I spend my school days looking up future mission trips, going on ifunny and taking personality quizzes
Catch me shipping superheroes and being obsessed with Deadpool
Or reading the newest Louis T conspiracies
I spend my free time in the hot tub or on a jet ski
My favorite time of day is around 7:30- 8 AM when the sun rays turn bright yellow
My favorite season is spring because I love green a lot now
I'd say I'm fairly happy, but am prone to depressed moments throughout a day
My family is tense and awkward but I love them all
And my life is very enjoyable

Some want to be remembered
for their touchdown record.
Some want to be remembered
for their body count.
Some want to be remembered
for their brilliance.
But I want to be remembered
for my kindness.
I will admit, I look back and remember the boy who always scored the touchdowns that always made our student section roar and fill with happiness.
I will admit, I look back and remember the girls who told funny, yet repulsive stories about their adventures of sleeping with random guys.
I will admit, I look back and remember the brainiacs and how they could make something as minuscule as a piece of gum a deep conversation starter.
But I will also admit, that looking back they have no significance to me.
Looking back, I remember the people who were kind above all else, I think of those people more frequently and hope they are doing well.
I remember those people and admire them for staying positive in a world so hopeless and full of hate and negativity.
I remember those people and feel a little less alone and know that they would be there if I called.
I wonder if those people are out in the world right now, spreading even more positivity and making others feel a little less insignificant.
I aspire to be remembered by kindness.