I had a dream and in it you were facing death, but in the end I was the one who died.

My eyes are filled.
My glass is empty.
My heart is shot.
My phones not buzzing.
My mind is racing.
My stomach is turning.
My shower is blistering.
My body feels nothing.

I want people to know I'm suicidal.
I don't want to talk about it. I don't want people to tell me it gets better or to get over it.
I just want people to know because maybe taking that weight off my chest will finally allow me to breathe a little. Maybe people will be kinder.
I want people to know I'm suicidal because I want to be honest.
I want people to know that when I wake up tomorrow, I barely survived yesterday.
I want everyone to know that I want to **** myself because when I finally do, I don't want people to think that I was happy, that I had a good life.
I want people to see the deep ugly **** I push down each day, the thoughts that literally eat me alive and push me to the edge.
I want people to know that when I'm in the bathtub I hold myself under until  all my air runs out.
I want people to know when I'm opening cardboard boxes at work with the box cutter I think about sliding it down my wrists.
I want people to know when I get in my car and the road goes two ways or into the lake I want to choose the lake.
I want people to know when I go to sleep at night I resist the urge to down all the pills in my house.
I want people to know that I want to break my mirrors and slit my throat with the shards.
I want people to know I'm suicidal.
And it's ******* killing me.

Nobody can hate me more than I hate myself so say what you have to say. Just understand this, if you tell a fat girl she's fat and she already knows, why tell her again and make her feel worse? If you tell a suicidal girl to **** herself, she just might. Words trigger actions, and words are beautiful. So don't use them to hurt people.

I was never the popular girl, the girl with the best hair or best eyes. I was never the girl that boys looked at and thought "wow". I was never the girl in the first or last row of the class. I was never the girl to speak up when she was being picked on.  I was never the girl with a ton of friends, who went to parties and got high. No, never. I was the girl who found herself on the outside of the crowds, but let me tell you this, it was beautiful outside not a cloud in sight. My hair was the color of the ocean, the color of a lilac field and freshly cut grass. My eyes were a storm that never ended, the boys never thought "wow", but you know what? Sense when do boys allow a girl to feel beautiful? In class i was always in the middle row because that's where i felt I was in life, stuck in the middle, in the grey. Even though I never spoke up when I was the victim I never once hesitated when it came to someone else in destress. No, I didn't have a ton of friends. But that's okay because with the few I did have, we've made some pretty great memories. Partying? Never been my thing. I was the girl who found herself in lyrics of a song, the girl who read books because loving the boys in them was easier than loving the ones in real life. I was the girl who wrote her every thought down on a piece of paper only to tear it up so no one would know them. And even though I'm not the same girl I used to be...a part of her still lives within me. You never truly outgrow the person you were but you will grow.

I admired her paleness.
It was like the bitter stillness of the winters landscape.
Or the soft, fragile feathers encased in my bedside pillow.
No color amongst those perfect pore-less cheeks.
Her lips a crimson red; a rustic brown, stained her teeth as she smiled.
I never thought I’d bestow my eyes upon such beauty, a goddess among the earth.
A wolf among mere sheep.
I wanted nothing more than to lift my hand and graze that face but I mustn't.  
Because she shined so bright against the rest and I refused to dull that shine.
My muddied hand was not worthy of such perfection.
I wanted no other to lay eyes on her skin, hair, body.
I would sooner gouge out my own eyes than loose sight of what I am seeing before me.
She will be my last vision, oh but what a vision she was.

I’m having a hard time coping with the fact that you’re no longer in my life. ******* for making me feel this way when I shouldn’t feel a ******* thing! Someone said your name the other day and I pretended to be okay with that fact that the sound of it still broke my heart. Every memory that I had suppressed found its way back to the front of my brain trying to remain there in fear they’d one day be forgotten. I wouldn’t care if I forgot though, because maybe then I could move on with my life and think about things that are important now instead of back then. Because you left. No note, no text, no call, not even a sorry, goodbye.
I wonder every now and then if you’re happy with your life because I question if I’m happy with mine. Things aren’t the same anymore and I guess that’s okay because if they were I might get bored of the constant but I wish you would have been a constant in my life. I think my mistake was never having the fear of losing you because when I did I wasn’t ready for the blow I took when I fell and you weren’t there to catch me. I realize I’m not much of anything, not even worth a few words or minutes of your time. But I just don’t understand how someone can go from caring about you, really caring about you to not even recognizing you when you walk by.
My days felt like years and every year I grow older but I haven’t seemed to die yet, at least not on the outside. It’s cold most days and that’s completely okay because the warmth reminds me of you and those nights we’d count our stars and count the hours before the sky became lighter and swallowed the moon. I rather liked the warmth then, like the time it was raining and we walked to a bench but the breeze cut through my clothing so you hugged me tight and wrapped me in a blanket I stored in my trunk. I can’t even walk down my own hometown streets because we used to walk on those sidewalks and that marked the best day of my life because it was the first day we really spent together and the first time I actually felt something other than this terrible sadness.
I think about the moments when my best friend and I were dancing like ballerinas in the kitchen and the moments where we stayed up all night playing that stupid Dance, Dance, Revelation and you’d sit on that couch watching us just laughing. I miss that sound you know. The sound that always brought me back from the hole I’d always manage to sink into. I ponder the times when we’d go on those late night drives just to get away from everything and be alone with the stars, and on the nights the stars refused to show we’d go get doughnuts and talk over your coffee and my hot chocolate. We’d talk about life, whether I was happy or not, what I could do to help you out, all of our problems we faced together. I remember leaving that shop one night at 3am with you, and you smashed that doughnut into my face and I chased you for what felt like an hour. Or the time you bought a cake for me because I was turning 19 but when I was unlocking my car you yelled for me and I turned around in a panic only to have my face land right into the middle of it.
I was so angry at you, but you said it was cute. I must have yelled at you for hours because my hair was all matted and my clothes stained with that sickly sweet frosting but you said I looked so beautiful and that it was a good look for me. We did so much together and I remember every ******* detail. Everything. I never thought moments like that would keep me up at night, bring tears into my eyes that were already made of too much sea.
So I guess what I’m trying to say is, even though it’s been over a year now and I’m happy with someone else, I still miss you. Because whether you were my first love, or second I still loved you.
And there’s no getting over that.