What does home mean to you?
To me...
It's absent
I don't have a home
Here it is Wednesday
and I haven't stepped foot
in my room since Saturday
I cant go back
Home is ruined now
The last time I saw it
It was covered in police
and tears
But I don't have a choice
I cant stay away forever

Babygirl, look at yourself.
You couldnt even get through a full day of school because of the build-up of thoughts in your head.
Not that anybody even noticed you left.
You went straight home, claiming sickness, and got lost in your bed.
You slept all day because that way nobody could bother you whether existent or in your head.
You haven't eaten yet today and here it is, already 8:41 pm.
Your mom thinks you have the flu.
How could you explain to her whats going on when you can't even explain it to yourself?
Two people have asked if you're okay and you told them both yes because they just wouldn't understand.
Instead, you texted the only person you shouldn't because he's the first person you wanted to talk to.
You're absolutely shameful.
I think you're just waiting for somebody to explain to you why your head hurts and your heart feels heavy.
Waiting for someone to tell you why you constantly feel like crying without a reason, but nothing ever comes.
Waiting for someone to say why you can't stand to look at people who yesterday were your friends and drastically exaggerate every situation.
Your grades are slipping.
So why can't you get out of bed and do something about it?
You're a disgrace.
You deserve everything you're getting.

There's something almost comforting
about not being able to sleep at night.
It's just you and the darkness.
Nothing can make you mad,
nothing can make you cry...
except yourself
You are the only one to blame tonight.

I made a decision.
I will never ever never
again let someone in.
Recently I let two
different people get close.
They got to know me
and then they left
as if it was only a vacation
and not a new home.
I guess I must've forgotten
to mention that I'm insane.
I am a human being.
Therefore I am outright
crazy.
I have normal human thoughts,
normal human dreams
but I can be obsessive.
I think I accept the love
I think I deserve.
So when someone
shows me affection
I grab on and never let go.
Then they leave
with the word
clingy
on their tongue.
So then I am forced to
saw off my left hand
and then on to my right one.
Then I no longer have the
capability to hold onto
what no longer
wants to hold onto me.

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

"But you told me you just wanted to be friends"
I said sitting in his front seat confused
A half-empty bottle of Fireball sitting in my lap
His Soundcloud playlist ringing in my ears
"Friends can still have fun"
His words went around in my head
Again and again and again
He gave me more propositions
Until my dazed mind made it sound good
"Let me just finish my drink"
I look at the quarter bottle with nothing left to lose
Up to my mouth, it goes
Chug chug chug
He reaches over and pushes it towards the sky
Up up up
It's more than I can handle
But I cant give up now
I don't
We climb into the backseat
I'm a complete mess
Three times
Three times I hang out of the car to puke
Puke the drink he made me drink
Its been a month now
And he's not in my life
But here he is dragging me back into his
He's telling my school, his friends
That I ***** him
I got him drunk
And I ***** him
But hey
If that's what friends do

It was almost two months ago
yet it seems like it could've happened
just last night.
With tired eyes
I had spent a sleepless night
with my ear glued to my phone.
My best friend,
the one I loved the most,
was on the other end.
Crying.
He was crying
and telling me
he was planning to **** himself,
for real this time,
and it was all my fault.
My eyes were red and bloodshot.
They were puffy and swollen.
As he cried
he spoke words I'll never forget.
He said to me,
"You could've helped."
"You could've saved me."
I told him I loved him
in the ballpark of a million times.
Not one of them had a response.
Don't worry,
everything turned out okay.
He's alive and well.
Not well,
but alive.

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.

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

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

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

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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"

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.

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

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

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.

I keep reading my writings over and over
And every time they become
More and more unreal
My life experiences are starting to
Sort of blend together
All the bad decisions
And terrible mistakes
It's just become who I am
It defines me now

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.

No hunny,
heartbreak is not the worst pain
heartbreak is quick and easy
compared to what i'm about to explain
imagine seeing him every day
but each day knowing he's drifting
further and further away from you
yet he's still existent
he still calls you baby
he still tells you he loves you
but as you've noticed
it's less and less every single day
his smiles still light you up
but hes leaving you with
dark and empty
he used to be all about you
but last night when you told him
how much you were hurting
he replied with "ok"
you know you should just drop him
quick and easy
painless
but sweetheart,
i wish it was that simple

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 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

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