Who says depression
Must be gray?

It's not

I see red
In the blood
From my cuts

I see,
Blues, greens, purples
In the bruises
From the
"Accidents"

I see white clearness
In the tears
From the sadness

I see orange and yellow
From the hot
Bursts of pain

So take it from me,
Depression
Is not simply
*Gray

have you ever thought that maybe i lied when i said i was okay?
have you ever thought that maybe i lied when i said i was getting better?
have you ever thought that maybe i lied when i said i haven't cut for months?
have you ever thought twice about something i said?
*have you ever ******* cared?

From Marlboros, and thinkin horribles,
Each time I think of you is another cigarette gone from my pack.

I start my pack full, I test the weight, loving the feel of a full pack in my hand,
But with every thought, they start to slip through my fingers like sand, and find their way home on my lips, where my tears just fall off and drip.

I started with 20, doing so far so good.
Wait whats that? you called?? there goes my mood.

A thought of you, a image plus two and then Im done with a few.
(17)

I choke on my fears, while I clench my hair
I called you my dear, and now im done with a pair.
(15)

Anxiety is something which I so not lack,
Giving my breath to this dwindling pack.
(13)

You feed my addiction being the flame,
my heart burns black, while it bears your name.
(10)

I sit and ponder on these thoughts I wish to behave,
Two more ignites, to feed the darkness in which I crave.
(8)

My pack is now dwindling low,
As I struggle to maintain a steady air flow.
How else can you sleep, when you've been hit with such a harsh blow.
(6)

I have clipped my wings,
after i have fallen oh so low,
in search of my name in your voice, but it is another mans love in which you sing.
This cigerette is now the only thing that glows.
(3)

(Braxton) I remember from where I came and god its a shame,
I just wish the addiction never screamed your name

Empty. Like my heart, the hollow pack crumples in my hands, wishing to be filled.
But the self destructive cycle repeats again, and again. .
And I begin my pack full, yet again testing the weight..

I try to drown my demons
but they know how to swim
I thought everything from hell burned
but I guess this can't be true
maybe it froze over
the day I left you
I may have a drinking problem
but from what I learned
in chemistry class
Alcohol is a solution.
with that being said...
why are my problems
unsolved mysteries?
Like the old television show
I guess it's because I killed
the only part of me
that made any sense:
You.

But it's hard to catch a criminal
after the first 48.
it's been a year.
So I'll never be caught
but I'll be the one
who carries the burden
like Atlas
with the world on my shoulders.
maybe I'll defy the gods
and hurl it into the Sun...
I guess
I've always wanted to watch the world burn.

An Open Letter To The First Boy I Loved

Alternatively known as “An Open Letter To The Boy That Calls Me Crazy.”

The first words you ever “said” to me were in a facebook message,
A picture of your lined arms attached, reading,
“Hah, I’m sorry, but I saw your picture of your scars and felt like showing you these.”

The first thing I should have done was run.
Not only were you immediately trying to make me feel bad
Before I had even uttered a word,
But you were already one-upping me,
Making me feel like you had been through so much more.

I admit my mistake of having shown my weaknesses online
At such a young age,
Hardly 14,
But having grown to a world of romanticized trauma,
I felt it was only normal to have issues of my own,
Whether they were exaggerated or not.

The saddest part of these issues having been forced upon myself
Is the fact that at one point I did not need them,
But now I feel like I would be nothing without them.
I do not blame you for their worsened behavior,
But before I met you,

I had never felt like a ****.
I had never actually made myself bleed to the point of soiling a shirt.
I had never actually attempted to take my life.

Though knowing I had these scars,
It seemed you knew how easily I’d fall into you,
Fall for you,
Looking for comfort in knowing I was not alone.

You persuaded me into kissing you.
You persuaded me into losing my virginity in the back of your mom’s car
While she was in your house on a cold September night.
It was rushed.
It was rough.
There was blood.
And you did not care.
“It’ll be quick, don’t worry.”

In the six months we were together,
I willingly had *** with you twice.
Every other time ****** acts occurred,
(which was over forty times)
You guilted me.
You told me that you deserved it.
You asked if I really loved you.
You told me I needed to show you that I loved you,
You told me that it was what love really was.

I never told you how many times I cried after you left.
I never told you how many guys I kissed after you,
And how every single one made me cry
Without saying a word.
It was the simple intimate touch--
Lips, even if gentle, pressing together--
That sent fear rolling through my body.

It was three months after you broke up with me.
Three months after you admitted that you cheated on me,
It was the day you asked me to go on a walk with you.
The day we could become friends again,
Start over,
Ignore that I still loved you,
Try again.
You insisted you still loved me
(Though now I doubt you ever did).
You insisted that you
Never wanted to hurt me,
And bent me over a tree in the woods
Behind the high school,
And said it would
“Just be in and out! Once!”
And I begged you to stop.
You slapped me,
You called me a ****,
And when you finally finished,
You started to panic.
You were begging me to say that
You
Didn’t
****
Me.
Through my own tears,
My own confusion,
My own pain,
I assured you,
“No, you're okay. It'll all be okay.”

It has been over two years since that day.
Since then, I have opened myself up to one person.

That man has since left me.
One of the contributing factors
Being that he was worried I was not over you.
He kept receiving messages from you,
Messages you sent claiming I would never stop loving you,
When this is the closest thing to hatred that I have ever felt,
Messages you sent claiming I would always think of you,
And what’s terrifying is I can’t help thinking of you--

It's only because I can’t get the nightmare
Of your touch
Out of my aching skull
And I don’t want you to feel victorious,
And it terrifies me that you do,
Because not only did you push me,
Not only did you threaten me,
Intimidate me,
**** me,
But you insisted I’d spend the rest of my life with you,
You disoriented my visions of love
Like a bad LSD trip,
And I’m so ******* scared it will never ******* end,
Because every time I see myself trying to hug,
Kiss,
Love,
Trust someone,
I see what you did to me and I know that it’s
Baggage to them,
But a ball and chain on me,
And I’m petrified.
These memories are bars keeping me from moving onto happier things,
Keeping me holed up, waiting for you to finally let me go,

Stop telling people that I’m crazy,
Stop whispering my name when you pass me in the hall,
Stop following my social media,
Stop following the people that I try to let in,
Stop ******* with my life,
Stop ******* with my head,
Stop ******* with me,
Leave me the **** alone,

The first words you ever “said” to me were in a facebook message,
With a picture of your lined arms attached, reading,
“Hah, I’m sorry, but I saw your picture of your scars and felt like showing you these.”

I never thought I’d have more scars than that.
Over 146 scars,
The police department proved it when they showed up at your house
The night you tried to **** yourself,
And told me it was my fault.

The scars I have aren’t physical.
Not all of them, at least.
But the problem with scars is they don’t just go away.
They go away with time,
And it’s hard to let them heal when you’re still leaving them there today.

I’ve tried telling the police what you’ve done.
I’ve tried telling counselors,
They haven’t done anything;
There was never enough proof,
It happened too long ago.
I can’t do anything to prove it.
Instead I’m left to see you daily.
Instead I’m left to hear you whisper about me.
Have people ask me questions about the things they’re hearing
Things you say.

This is an open letter to the first boy I loved.

I say boy, because
The only thing I’m certain of anymore,
Is you will never
Be a
Man.

Photographs can't capture
The majesty of sight
The daisies in the rain
Cloaked in vibrant light

Recordings can't capture
The music of ears
Melody of wonder
All I wish to hear

Words can't always capture
Feelings I possess
Raging storms in me
Leave me as a mess

Friends are real,
Friends are true,
I would love to call you a friend,
But that's not the real you.
Friends are loving,
They always care,
You can say they are like a part of you,
'Cause their always there.
They'd rather die than to lie,
They'd rather say everything than say nothing.
Friends are real,
Friends are true,
I can call everybody else my friend,
But sure as hell not you.

I hide behind this bottle
Because I don't want to see you

I don't want to remember you

I don't want to think of you

I want to be happy
And forget

And yet when the morning comes
There you are
Like you never left

I hide behind this bottle
Because when I decide to finally stop hiding
You will have faded and so will the pain