i was adopted,
therefore,
my mom didn't
biologically
pass down any traits
to me.
not my eyes,
my hair,
or my smile.
but, you know what
she did give me?
my low self-esteem.

society has taught us
not to believe a girl
that's been hurt,
especially if shes
been hurt
for a second time.

ç'est la vie.
such is life.
my brother got it tattooed
across his ribs.
my coworker repeats it
all day long.
but,
*******,
was it just life when
my mom called me an
irresponsible *****
days after i helped with her bills?
was it just life when
i skipped every other class
to sit in the bathroom and cry
because i didn't feel wanted?
was it just life when
my biological, drug-addicted mother
told me i was growing up to be
just like her?
was it just life when
i got a text from a boy who
was concerned that i was pregnant
from ***, i don't remember having?
was it just life when
my grandma cried at the alter,
praying to god that
i would finally become sober?
was it just life when
my brother couldn't even look at me
as i sat on a hospital bed
after trying to end my own life?
was it just life when
i spent the night running from the cops
after my mom threw me on the floor
and wanted me back home?
was it just life when
my alcoholic sister
screamed at me that
i have a problem?
maybe it wasn't just life.
maybe it was just
my life.

you don't know pain
until it's staring you
straight in the eyes.
this time
it's your mother.
she's tired and even
wilting.
and you're the reason why.

when i was young,
i thought my tears
would nourish roses.
now that i'm older
i know they will
drown sorrows.

my big brother,
he's my everything.
but when i was admitted
into the hospital
i was so mad at him.
so ******* mad.
my mom
came to visit me
every day,
but he only came once.
it was a five minute visit
on his way to go see
his now ex girlfriend.
that was six months ago.
he has a fiancé now.
i sat down with her yesterday
and had a long talk.
i told her the story
and how mad i had been.
she looked at me with
those sad eyes
i see so often.
"he told me about that,"
she said,
"he told me that you
were mad.
but he also told me
he couldn't bear
to see you
when he's your
big brother
and he failed
to protect you."

now that i'm sober
my mom says that
i've quit a lot
and i don't have to
give up smoking
just yet.
but she buys
nicotine patches
and leaves them
in my room.
i'm trying mom.
i swear it to you.

i wanna run away
and live a glamorous life
with nobody but
the voices in my head

just know.
every tear,
every laugh,
every butterfly.
it's not because of you.

you say my heart
is cold.
i'm sorry.
it's been shattered
so many times
freezing it
was the only way
i knew
to put it
back together.

i believe love will find me again,
but i'm not convinced it'll be happily
ever after.

- i don't believe in fairytales

i wanna cut
my chest open
just to make sure
my hearts still
beating inside

i've heard so many
rumors about
addiction.
do me and millions
of others a favor
by not talking about it,
unless you've experienced it.
unless you've spent
days in recovery groups,
or a hospital bed,
hours sitting beside the toilet,
experienced intense cravings,
or withdrawal symptoms
that make you feel like
you're dying.
"duh, just quit."
you don't understand.
and i hope you never have to.
you try something for
your own reasons.
you like it for the
happiness it brings or
because it helps you forget.
you continue to use it
for that reason
and it leads to addiction.
at that point its too late
to "just quit".
you're brain begs for it.
if you don't give in,
depending on your addiction,
you're left with
nausea,
hot and cold sweats,
dizziness,
headaches,
and no appetite.
addiction is not
something to joke about.

today in class
i was reading a short story
for American Lit.
The Sculptor's Funeral
by Willa Cather.
it's about a man who has died
and his last wish was to be brought
back to his cruel hometown
to be buried.
"It's not a pleasant place to be lying while the world is moving and doing and bettering," he had said with a feeble smile, "but it rather seems as though we ought to go back to the place we came from, in the end. The townspeople will come in for a look at me; and after they have had their say, I shan't have much to fear from the judgement of God!"
a man that worked under him,
Steavens,
brought him home in a casket.
everybody had something
bad to say about him.
Laird,
a corrupt lawyer in the town,
had enough of it.
he yelled at the townspeople
and outed all of those who had
asked him to bend the law.
he made them realize that
they had done more wrong than
the man who was now dead.
"Well, I came back here and became the ****** shyster you wanted me to be. You pretend to have some sort of respect for me; and yet you'll stand up and throw mud at Harvey Merrick, whose soul you couldn't ***** and whose hands you couldn't tie."
"Harvey Merrick wouldn't have given one sunset over your marshes for all you've got to put together, and you know it..."

this story makes me
want to believe that,
if i'm ever lying in a casket,
someone will stand up for me
and try to clear my name.
even in small, ****** towns,
like the one i live in,
maybe there's at least
one person
with a kind heart.

i was on my way home
from the city.
sitting in the back of the car
listening to loud music
with my brother
and his best friend.
i was gripping the seat,
feeling the vibrations
from the bumpy road
and listening to them sing.
i cried.
nah,
i balled.
why?
because what if those
sleeping meds
i took two months ago
had done exactly
what i wanted them to?
i'd be six feet under
instead of enjoying
the little things.

whenever i get sad
my mom asks
if i'm going to a
"dark place".
no mom.
i live in a world
thats full of light,
but when i
reach out
i can't touch it.
i need someone
to help me,
but nobody
remembers
my name.
i want to stop
carving lines
into my thighs
just to see my
favorite color.
i want to be able
to smile
and actually
mean it.
i want to sing
and dance
around my room
like i did when i was
a little girl.
but the problem is
i don't know that
girl anymore.
so mom,
the answer is no.
i don't live in a
dark place.
and maybe
that's the problem.

when i look
in his eyes,
i see the stars.
every single one.
he's so good,
so sweet.
his smile can literally
light up any room.
he says
he can't believe it.
he says
i'm out of his league.
but,
when i look in the mirror
i look behind my eyes
and i still don't see
a future.
i'm reckless
and insane.
i'm disappointing.
i just can't
go through this
again.

you wanna know
what real depression
feels like?
it feels like
in your head
you know that
everything will
be okay
and your life
will go on but
your heart hurts.
like physically
hurts.
it's like someone
reached into my chest
and is strangling
my heart.
just crushing it
to pieces.
i don't want to
move or
get out of bed.
i haven't
eaten yet today.
i tried this morning,
took one bite and
felt like
i was gonna puke.
my stomach
keeps growling
like it's taunting me
cause it knows
i can't lose
anymore weight
without
becoming sick.
and there's nothing
can do about it either.
like,
i'm dying
and i can't
help myself.

my mom came up
into my room tonight.
she said ive been getting
even smaller.
she made me show her
my hip bones
and my ribs.
my weight is at the point
where its scary.

he loves me,
but he broke my heart.
why do i hurt
so **** much
when it was my choice?
it's for the best,
but i can't help but wonder
what kind of music
we could've made.

what's the point
of picking petals
off flowers
when my fate
is the same
every *******
time

it's on nights like these
when my lungs
are filled with smoke,
the cold seems to
choke my bones,
and the stars are calling out
every name but mine
where i feel the
loneliest.

you look into his eyes
and only see brown.
you laugh and joke
about how this
makes him
“full of ****.”
but,
when i look into his eyes,
i see so much more.
this boy has been hurt,
hurt by so many people.
tears hide back behind
because if he ever showed
anyone
his emotions,
he’d be ridiculed.
this boy is sad.
he’s lives a life
that he doesn’t want to live,
but pretends that
he is in control.
this boy
is not what everybody thinks.
when i first met him
i was intimidated.
he gives off a vibe
that he is
indestructible.
get to know him.
you will see what i mean.
i’ve comforted this boy
while he cried,
which i’ve only seen once.
i’ve been by his side
for everything,
through hell and back.
this boy has so much pain,
so much sadness,
so much agony.
but he also has so much love.
he just doesn’t know
what to do with it.

imagine this.
you experience something
with another person
that typically involves
a great deal of
love and commitment.
but, you didnt want to.
this person didn't love you
nor were they commited to you.
this moment
is usually special
and meaningful.
but, you can't even tell me
if it was because
you dont know.
you dont remember.

welcome to my life.
i was the mere age
of fifteen.
i thought i loved him.

afterwords,
i didn't tell anybody.
instead,
i made excuses.
“i remember.”
“i wasn't drunk.”
“i wanted to.”
i spent six long months
suffering,
burying everything,
before i finally decided
it was time to tell my mom.

last month
my mom told me
i had a doctors appointment.
you see,
i have been consistently
losing weight and
i hadn't been sleeping at night.
when my doctor asked if
my mom could come in too,
i instantly knew something was wrong.
my mom looked into my eyes
and told me i needed to be honest.
i had no idea
what she was talking about.
“she was *****,”
my mom blurted.

you see,
after spending
six. *******. months.
alone,
burying everything
that i didn't want to think about,
just to have all that hard work
ripped apart
was heartbreaking.
no,
having someone i
loved and trusted
do something so awful,
so wrong,
that was heartbreaking.
but digging it all back up?
that was torture.

where would I be
without my friends?
I can tell you.
i’d be six feet
underground
with all my pain
scattered around
my hometown

I miss what we had
cuddling on the couch
talking for hours
waiting all night for the
sun to rise
sometimes I mistake
all of this
for missing him
I do not miss him
I miss the memories we made
you must think i’m awful
for saying that
I do not miss someone
that I used to love
more than anything
but in between
all the good memories
he slowly killed me
he was very controlling
and always angry
sometimes I choose
to forget those things
so I can remember the good
and actually
smile

when I was young
I would ride my bike
down the sidewalk
and dream about one day
when i'd be old enough
to drive a car
it seemed so far away
now that i'm here
I do nothing but
wish I were young again
I miss riding my bike
playing in the rain
and not caring about
what anyone thought of me
one day
I swear to you
i'll feel young again

today
during school
this kid in my class
that i barely talk to
walked up to me
and put his fingers
around my bicep
as if he was
measuring
how small i've
gotten

i've never been
to any other
highschool
in my life.
therefore,
i cannot speak
for all schools.
but, i can speak
for my school.
about every other
student here is
a druggie.
which means
you have your choice
of two crowds.
but once you choose,
at the beginning
of your freshman year,
you can't change your mind.
and the teachers here
rarely teach.
they throw slideshows up
and blame you for not
paying attention
if you actually get
the nerve
to go up
and ask for help.
our principal
promotes
mental health,
but doesn't give any
resources for
mental breakdowns,
anxiety, or
depression.
sitting in classrooms
for eight hours,
with people you
can't stand,
with nowhere to go
will completely
destroy someone
especially someone
already
suffering.

i'm so sorry.
i'm so sorry
that i could only
think about you
while your entire life
is falling down
around you.
because of this,
you don't think
about me.
and,
because of this,
my life is
falling down around me
as well.
just don't
****
me.
no matter how much
i
beg.

i still
*******
love you.
after everything
you put me through
how could i say that?
i thought you were
well.. different.
but you were an
*******.
just like every guy
ive ever loved.

i hope the next girl
knows about
your anger,
your jealousy,
your hate.
i also hope she
smiles just as big
as i always did
everytime you call her
beautiful,
gorgeous,
yours.

im sorry we put
as much pain on eachother
as we did.

i love you.

sincerely yours,
callie

i finally told my mom
about what happened
to me
you know..
the r word
r-a-p-e

she cried.

i've had almost 6
months to come to terms
she's had 5
minutes

i'm sorry.
i know you weren't ready

they tell me to just forget about him
that i shouldn’t let someone
as dumb as him
ruin my life
they don’t understand
i’ve been trying to forget him
since february
i can’t do anything about the fact
that every time I close my eyes
i see him, feel him
he lives in my nightmares
i just want it to end

it’s been 5 months
and he must still
find my name sweet.
dead fish,
that’s what he called me.
said i just layed there
and it was the worst
he’d ever had.
maybe if i just layed there,
i was too drunk.
maybe if I just layed there,
i wasn’t ready.
maybe if I just layed there,
you should’ve taken me home.
telling people this
was your mistake,
because you also told people
that i was the one that
got you drunk
and ***** you.
but honey
how could that be true
if you say that
i was the dead fish
and you were fully aware.

i can tell you the
exact moment
i knew I loved him
my tears hit
the pillow because
he was spending time
with another girl
i cried so hard
i became sick

i have oh so many
trust issues now
i cant help but expect
people to leave
"but not everybody leaves"
he says to me daily
the hardest part is not
being able to know from
the start
what their intentions are
but you have to stay away
to protect your  heart
from breaking yet again
i have found a way you can
save yourself
you just have to stay away
from
everyone

how many more times
can we sit here and
tell each other lies
about how everything's
going to be okay?

i cant stand
anyone saying
"i'm sorry"
nothing seems
real about it
anymore
ive been lied to
one
too
many
times

when i say
my hearts been broken
i don't mean by some
high school boy
what i mean is
some days i just
cant get out of bed
i cant catch my breath
i cant be myself

now i know why
i always set fire
to his name

as long as i
say these things
about him
he'll hate me
and won't try to
come back yet
again

at least then
i can try to
continue
as though nothing
happened
and piece my
shattered life
back together

it was a
kiss at the stoplight
kinda love
except,
without the love

whenever
they ask why
i am
the way that
i am
all i do
is tell
our love story,
the saddest one
i've ever told.

I read recently that
90% of a girls' identity
comes from the words
of her father.
Maybe that's why I am
the way that I am.

90% empty.

I go to church
every Sunday morning,
every Wednesday night.
Ever since I was
just a toddler.
They teach you about
Adam and Eve,
Noah's Ark,
and Jonah in the whale.
They don't teach you
about what to do
when you're handed a drink,
asked for answers on a test,
or smiled at by the new boy with sandy brown hair.
The world has turned
"the devil" into
red horns,
a pitchfork,
and an evil smile.
I believe,
if this book of stories
really is true,
that he still looks like
an angel.
He's in disguise
so that we can never
even tell the difference.
Maybe that's why
our bad decisions
look like good decisions
before we decide to do them.

I hated
what you did to me
for so **** long
But here I am
doing the same thing
to someone else
So tell me...
how can I
hate you
without also
hating myself

Ever heard the saying our lives are written in the stars? I don't believe it. I believe we aren't alone. We are in control of our lives. We can change the grave that was dug for us. We make an impact. Even in small ways. Every life is relevant. No matter how big or small. I'm going to rewrite the stars. Because I'm tired of not fighting for the things I want or believe in. I just let go if I get it in my head that it's impossible or that it will fail. That it's written in the stars. But I'm rewriting the stars. They think it's easy. But there are still days where I think about things. Where I still want to run to somebody I cant. Days, where I think I cant, rewrite my stars. But I can. I'm going to.
--text from my brother at 11:46 p.m.

she looked at me
and smiled
"It's nice to meet you."
i smiled back
"It's nice to meet you too."
little did she know
we went to the same
small town high school
for an entire year
before she graduated
but i wasn't about
to tell her that

now
whenever i tell him that
i love him
he doesn't say it back
instead
he asks
why

Get yourself together.
Get to a place where
you can sit still,
in a quiet room,
and without disruption
be able to think
"i love my life"

everyone thinks that i'm crazy
because i cant drop the boy
that i hate more than anything
but look here sis
he gave me things i didn't want
things i cant get rid of
he started me with addictions
so every time i give in
give in to something i need
something i cant go a day without
i am forced to think of him
and that hunny is why
i am bleeding from the inside out