The heart is a muscle designed to pump blood through your veins to your arteries
It is asymmetrical, perhaps a little revolting
It is nothing more
It is nothing less

The brain is an ***** designed to allow us to create experiences, experience things
Experience a chemical imbalance and you may feel like you're crazy but the thing that's really insane is that
You don't feel with your heart
You feel with your brain

But part of me is hesitant to believe that who we are is simply a sum of the head
And I believe the answer may lie somewhere between the heart and the brain
It calls itself the soul

I want to be tiny

Tinier than my bones will let me
But still, I've tried

And even after knowing this
Try again sometimes in anxious times

When I'm having trouble finding happiness within me
I think maybe, a little less of me will make me happy

So I skip the meals, feel the butterflies when I see that number go down

Then look in the mirror maybe a week later and notice
I miss certain parts of me being fuller

Find myself even less attractive without them being that way than I did feeling "too chubby"

I've come to the conclusion that my body is not the problem

It's my brain

It will always find something wrong

Though I came to this conclusion years ago, it has taken me this long to refuse to give it what it wants

And just give my body what it's begging for

I refuse to ever use starving myself as a shortcut to "happiness" ever again.

you set my soul on fire
then left me there to burn

you and I
oh, we were like Adam and Eve
Romeo and Juliet

just a few too many lines short of reality

It's funny
Maybe a bit ironic
That I've cared so much about having a perfect appearance in the past
That I am now completely uninterested in trying to look even presentable
If I cannot find the energy to put into looking my best
If I can't muster it, I put no energy in

Anything half-assed and I feel I look like a joke, and I feel more embarrassed than going makeupless

I know I'm being needlessly rough on myself
But at times, I think, not rough enough

A battle,
It always seems to be a battle
Between polar opposites

what is it
this nagging thing within me
more than just a voice in my head
less than the shakes
that makes you seem like the only thing I want
the only thing I need
is a sip, or hit
or two
or 10
somewhere around then I lose track
and can finally go to sleep

sleep, the one thing better than you lately

i miss you when i am out of states
wishing i were the sewer grate that could catch the muck beneath your shoes because though i can enthuse you
i can't bring myself to accuse you
of the things my mind has made up
and maybe its the alcohol but i am enthralled by
the memory of you
worthy of poem as
fresh dew on
freshly packed snow
melting in the sun's tired rays

She was a poet and he didn't even know it
She didn't share, she was scared he wouldn't care
and she'd be left broken

He had a heart but he was too afraid to show it
He didn't share, he was scared one day she wouldn't be there
and he'd be left broken

They thought they were protecting themselves in their shells but really, they were only tearing themselves and each other apart.

The human heart, at least sometimes, has a funny way trying to help but ultimately sabotaging itself.

Maybe I can be the girl you want me to be

If I always get a chance to fall asleep after you so I get a chance to cry and comfort myself if I need to

If you look away long enough for me to sneak a chill pill

If you can accept my tenseness because I'm too afraid to shake in front of you

If you can take me slowly changing, losing my kindness and softness

To cater to your calloused heart

And probably, all of this would still not be enough

the only thing that my future guarantees
is that i will still be haunted by its uncertainty
and plagued by a past spent with my fists clenched trying to enjoy the present

alcohol
it's the devil
i swear upon my own future grave

it whispers in your ear like sin
(perhaps that's because that is it's other name)

it tells you
"i'll make you forget about what ails you, off to sleep I'll sail you"
but restless waking and sleep i'll give you, it forgets to mention

but maybe it didn't lie,
you just refused to remember it

or perhaps you did, but it was worth the temporary renderment

after night upon night of retching it's poision, the thoughts flooding back from your stomach
you remember, you always come back to your footing
and each step is little more painful than it was the night before, and you can't seem to get used to it

but please, you must remember, you must avoid the temptation,

you can overcome anything
you have overcome everything
you thought you never could
thus far

you have come this far

refuse, refuse to let alcohol, or anything else, become your end

(be it physically or emotionally)

you are worth the mending
and like a muscle
each time you exercise the discomfort
(in these terms of loving yourself, in refusing numbing these feelings, which you must remember, are a part of yourself)

it will hurt less

it will become easier

it will be worth it.

I saw bars around me and thought "prison"
Just realized it was a cradle
And I could climb out whenever I decided to

Honey, I know the signs
It's not the weight leaving that makes me want to cry when I look at you
It's the luster gone from your hair
Your smile
Your eyes
Despite an ever-widening smile
I know that smile well
Honey, when I see you, all my mind can come up with is "you are the most beautiful soul I know, please take care of yourself"
Please, fuel it
Please, don't believe yourself
You are a goddess and you deserve every bite of Mac n cheese you've refused yourself

it feels like I'm watching myself
dig my own grave
and i'm begging myself
to stop
and crying
why

You felt like home
You kicked me out
Now I'm afraid to go back to my own house
Forced to construct a home of my own with nothing but ****** knees and the shirt on my back
But despite the weather I weathered through it
It takes twice as much work to get this place warm
But I'm finding it's well worth it

For years, at times I'd find myself
In the early hours of the morning before light
Thinking
This world
Is so irreparably broken
I can feel it at the pit of my being
I can feel it making itself comfortable in my heart
And I must fix this world or else this pit may take over my being

But I am trying very hard to tell myself now,
I might even believe
that it is people,
Not the entire world
That may be broken
And I can't change the world
But I can offer one hand and heart at a time
And then maybe that person I helped might want to too
And then maybe, years from now, we will live in a world of people who are whole and do not hurt

little girl
I am so sorry
for being so cruel
I don't know what's wrong with my head
but it just seemed like the right thing to do
but now you're all grown up
and broken in two

This callous on my heart
Is a blessing and a curse
If not for it, my heart would be too vulnerable
With a callous, or at least behind it, I am able to hold back my tears for a moment in public,
For this I am seen as cold

When I cry too much, I hear that I'm a crybaby, I have been told my heart is too large
What do you want with me?

Tell me please, universe, because it seems as though you are toying with me

deep breath*
okay
if they got their love story
I can have one too

breathe, baby
breathe

it hurts but it won't forever

it hurts but it won't forever

it hurts but it won't forever

this ticker whimpers a bit at times
but never fails to rattle when I tap my chest


(whatever governs the heavens, bless)

i just don't want anyone to hurt
like i've hurt
and i've never even really been hurt
that badly so
sometimes the world feels
unbearable
if that makes any sense
at all

The roar of a fireplace takes place in my chest sans the scalding temperature
The fire sustains me yet I fashion myself its master

I forget sometimes to place a warm cup of tea before my sorrows as I refill again those of my joys,

and for this,

I can understand why when one of my sorrows finally recieves one, sometimes it just throws it back in my face.

And yes, I'm scolded for a few moments, but I am the one who is to blame.

Had I just invited my sorrows to tea a little earlier, and treated them with the same respect as my joys, I would not have upset my guest.

Treat all guests with respect.

These lips
Walk me in and out of offices
But I can't put into words these feelings
That press up against my belly and chest
Lurch up my throat
They mock me
These bits which refuse to be translated
Spit at my face and kick me into a corner
Until I have no fight left in me
My face encrusted in dry salt
I curl up and close my eyes until they retreat

Where they go I do not know
But when they do, I wipe my face and rise to my feet


I am a warrior

And I will not accept defeat

I always catch myself thinking
If only, I were more beautiful
I would be loved more, let go less easily
But, for some reason it took me until today to realize that
I would be just as unhappy
Just as scared that they would leave
Because what if, one day, I were no longer beautiful?

He asked her
"Do you think maybe you depend on me too much?"
And she replied, quicker than she could have even had a thought
"No!"
But she did so
Knowing he may very well leave or pull away had she said yes
And that,
Would be too much for her to bear

thoughts that prevent me:

oh ****,
really?
get over it
get over yourself

It feels good to get these thoughts out at times but I'm scared in the wrong hands (with someone with a mind like mine), they could run through a person's mind almost like a negative mantra? But it's not true. You get over things in your own time and you're not a selfish/bad person for having a rough time.

the light at the end of the tunnel is a train
and baby, we're going places

It's the alcohol
It's the medication
It's my sleep schedule

It's my coping mechanisms
My habits
My thought processes

It's just me.
Myself.
And these.

Don't know why
But sometimes
I just want to die
And then I wake up the next morning
Thankful the pills and drink didn't take

I honestly don't want my people's world to quake
With the mistake of my bad decision
I'll stay here and try to make revisions
But I'm just not so sure they'll do the trick
I'm sorry if I leave you before my time has ticked

But I really do hate the bitter taste that will be left in their mouths
So I refuse to take it

I know regret will get me nowhere, but maybe this is something different.

I can't believe I so wholeheartedly gave away pieces of myself to others in the hopes that someday, I'd become whole.

For a while, I imagined myself as a vessel
A vessel containing unconditional love, and that it was my job to fill everyone's cup
This kept me alive

But this vessel is cracking
And she's scared that nobody will love her when they see her smile cracking
When they see her cracking

A vessel can only hold so much, can only be dropped so many times, placed in the garage, forgotten and then remembered again, before she begins to question her worth.

From now on, I am the vessel, and I am the cup.

and the actress forgets she is playing a character
that she was an actress even

it is only when the lights in the theatre come on
that she reorients herself

fingers tracing the braille of the mask she forgot she wore
the world begins to warp and spin and she finds herself

home amongst the fears
of a reality worse than nightmares

I'm too sensitive for others

Sometimes I just think I'd be better off alone for the rest of my years

It feels like
If we didn't drink or smoke
You'd maybe hate me
And I'd maybe just cope

You told me this isn't true, though
And trust me,
I'm trying my hardest to believe you

Everyone thinks I chose psychology as my major because I want to help people
And they're not wrong
But, perhaps almost just as much, I wanted to figure out what type of crazy I am and how to sooth it

Too many nights of my brain flying out the window
Towards every direction there is and isn't
Everywhere but where I need it
Wishing it would crash on the pavement over, and over and over, til there is nothing but darkness
Finally, a restful sleep
Where did that knife come from?
Why am I smiling with a knife in my hand, pointed toward me?
Why am I fantasizing about taking a flying leap from that little window in our apartment
I remember thinking I'd be one with the birds song those few moments in the air

It is only now, years from that scene that I know this will never be my fate
I will never let my life be taken by my own hands.

I am proud, but I am also scared. I can no longer lay in the odd solace of these thoughts when my brain begins eating itself.

And I don't know what to do but live.

And I don't know what to do but live.

"what a beautiful day"
I say from the stale side of the window pane
I retreat beneath my sheets

maybe I hate when I can't get you so much
because in your grip is the only time
I feel my fists unclutch

i never quite understood why
i enjoyed drinking just a little too much
or sniffing my pretty little chill pills

and i never understood why, after i stopped,
i missed the bitter taste of the trickle at the back of my throat occasionally
or would look back and wonder how i felt less nauseous on days spent on my bed, puking into my waste basket
then i did presently, eating healthily, keeping it down, going to class, being fully present in the lives of my friends and family

i would begin to feel, at the pit of my stomach, a sort of squirm, an uneasiness, an uncertainty that at any moment, my heart, may in fact, fall straight out of my ***

my gaze would begin to linger on the signs of liquor stores
and instead of burdening the ones i love by spewing my love, my hope, my fears for every soul that decides to sit down for tea

i decided, as if there were no alternative, I would spare them the soul diarrhea, because what advice, solace, could they give me?

That body wash
That deodorant
That perfume

Used to be the only kinds I used

Now I can't stand the smell of them

I thought maybe it was because they reminded me of you

But I just realized it's because

They reek of a time I was trying so hard to bloom while I was wilting

i used to believe in magic

learn to love the growing pains
smile in the dark, in anticipation
of the next wave
knowing each one brings you that much closer to the things that you've been growing towards

knowing my limits
helps me beyond most would understand
i can finally
rest my tired muscles
feed my hungry stomach
rest my restless mind
and let the superstars take the weight of the world of looking and being perfect
on their shoulders
instead of mine

The people I love are breaking
Crumpling to soddy pulp in the rain, waiting to be washed down the drain
And/or waiting to catch fire in the sun
And I don't know if it's the full moon or the eclipse
But I'm scared

It's coming.

And there we sat
Strained against the woodgrain
Eyes, limbs
And I can't remember the words that left your lips
But everything in me wanted to stay forever and never have met you all at once
And I slammed our story shut quicker than I could slam the door to that tiny apartment

I'm sorry we couldn't be what we thought we could be

I'm sorry I refuse to open that door ever again

it's odd to think
some people love cherries, or rainy days, or the quiet
and others despise those things

how can some people hate what others love, and vice versa?

I want to peel back
The layers of myself I've let callous over
For you
For you only
But even though they're not supposed to hurt anymore
They scream upon the feeling of my fingers tearing
Or maybe it's the new skin
Afraid to be exposed

Either way
I love you
And I am so sorry
For being so sensitive
For being so tough

When I close my eyes
They all fumble to escape from their lidded prison
They begin as butterflies bumping into each other but turn into a swarm of bees, pushing their buzzing bodies to the surface
Until I am forced to open my eyes to relieve the pressure
And feed them the honey they've been fumbling for