I had a dream that we made up.
We were happy and so in love.
I had a dream that we'd made up,
but that was just a dream.

I had a dream that I was happy,
it was cute and intriguingly sappy.
Had a dream that once you had me
in the best of ways.

I had a dream that we made up,
the best dream ever, but I woke up.
**KD

I haven't left my house or showered or been outside or opened my blinds in a week and a half. I feel like a limp noodle, I have no motivation to do anything. I haven't been to work and I have canceled counseling twice. I feel ill if my mother tries to make me eat more than once a day. I wonder if anyone notices what's happening to me. I wonder if anyone knows the pain gnawing at my heart and causing this lump in my throat. I wonder if they care.

Every little thing is hurting me. The way that others think of me, the way they speak of me, the way they ignore me, the way they treat me. Everything is just there in my head, swirling around over and over. How needy I am, how annoying I am, how I can't control my drinking, how over-emotional and dramatic I am.

I wonder if anyone knows why the things that they say and think and feel about me effect me so much. Because it's me that they don't like. It's me that they're insulting. You can ask me to change and I can act different, but it's still me. I deal with it every day. I feel every emotion to the very bottom of me. There's no reaction that I act out that doesn't express exactly how I am feeling. My emotions run deep to the core of me. If they say that I am too much, I simply am. That is me, exactly. I can't bare myself at times; Imagine being me every day.

So why not just love me and accept me for being so entirely honest and so real. I'm something hard to fathom, I understand, but all I am is all I ever were and all that I can be. I have masked myself for everyone "I'm fine. I'm always fine." Don't let me deceive you, it's my favorite line. Inside I am crying, inside I am dying and on the outside I'm lying. Understand this; My tears are all dried up and I have ****** back into myself to please you. I am trying so hard to provide the silence that you have requested; so don't ask me why I've disappeared. Don't ask me why I am wasting my life away in a 'cave'. Don't ask me why I won't come out. Don't ask me why I won't speak or smile or cry or yell. Don't ask me why I am lacking emotion. Notice, but don't ask.

I will tell you once again. There is nothing that I feel that does not entirely devour me. Nothing that I feel that doesn't consume my every thought and every second of my existence. You told me to be silent. You asked me to stop feeling the way that I do. So I have emptied myself, to the bottom of me, just to please all of you.

k.d.

"How are you today?",  they so often say.
And "Fine." you respond; though, not feeling fond.
Why do we lie and not let people know
how dreary we feel as they come and they go?
If I were to answer politely one day,
"I'm feeling quite awful.", would you turn away?
I feel that some people would not want to stay,
so I must be careful of just what I say.

Exquisite things -to name a few-
All of the wonderful things that you do.
I'm saying it now, If you never knew;
I thank you for being exquisitely you.

I'm the unexpected orphan left on someone's doorstep.
I am the lost property that nobody wishes to claim.

I am that sad love story with tattered pages and water stains
that reside on the ground for everyone to see, but no one dare touch.
If anyone acknowledge my damage
they may be held accountable
or worse,
be forced to do something about it.

I didn't get this way on my own.
Love,
or a lack there of,
has done this to me.
Now I'm tattered and worn with nothing to show for it.

*kd