I've taught you something new.
I've shown you something fun.
You've thanked me for it all.

I took your hand and weaved my fingers through yours.
There, now you can say you've held someone's hand.
The first time he held a woman's hand.

I took your face and turned your neck and kissed your cheek.
There, now you can say you've been kissed.
The first time a woman has kissed him with some passion.

You took my face and I gave you my cheek and you kissed.
There, now you can say you've kissed a girl.
The first time he has kissed a woman with some passion.

I took your face and kissed your lips slowly and purposefully.
There, now you can  really  say you've been kissed.
The first time a woman has kissed your lips.

You took my face and kissed my lips nervously.
There, now you can  really  say you've kissed a girl.
The first time he has kissed a woman.

I've shown you how I kiss.
You've shown me your nerves.
But you've done well.

I grabbed your jacket and pulled you towards me.
I kissed you with passionate wanting and you opened your lips.
The first time he's been surprised by the passion.

You put your arms around my back and pulled me towards you.
You kissed me with nervous passion and our tongues intertwined.
I didn't teach him this one, he's learning for himself.

I've shown you some firsts.
And you've decided what you want.
Next time we meet, there will be more.

Sitting on the bathroom floor
with lights off
and doors locked.
With mirrors covered
to hide the truth
of what you are.

If I could then I would. I would change for you.
Change my soul, change my head, even change my body.
I’ve even tried an I’ve found that I can’t.
I cannot change anything. I cannot change for you.
Oh, dear heart, I cannot change to make you keep beating.
Sooner or later, we will both die. And it will be a dream.

I cannot undo what has been done.
Especially when it comes to my own skin.
I cannot change what I have felt.
Especially when feelings come from this cold heart.
I cannot change the thoughts I have.
Especially when they come from this brain of mine.
I cannot change what I’ve become.
Especially when it comes to my soul within.
You see, there’s things I know, things I choose to forget.
Laws of the world and laws of the mind, lost sight in the tempest of my soul.
The storm may end but then again, it always comes back.
Maybe a little sprinkling of water, not even enough to get me wet.
Probably another storm with wind and rain going in opposite directions
and I, caught in the crossfire.
I cannot change the weather, I do not have the power of the gods.
I cannot change what has been done, I do not have the power of God.
I can only change the way I handle the oncoming storm.
I can use an umbrella or simply take shelter from the storm.

I’ve ****** up my life.
I don’t know how.
And I don’t know when.
But I did.
I’ve ****** my soul.
To be in Hell.
And I don’t why.
But I did.
I did all this ****
to myself.
And I never realized it.
But I did it.
I ****** up.
I ****** myself.
I created a monster
*I did.

I have too many
commitments to **** myself.
Be accidental.

There are times
so often
I think to myself
do I have the right
to label myself?
Wondering if
the cuts I make
are deep enough,
bleed enough,
scar enough,
created enough,
for me to be a cutter.

But I must be.
Because I do.
I must be.
Because my skin is
purple and red lines
of scars.
I must be.
Because I see a pencil sharpener
and remember where my
screwdriver is.
I must be.
Because I was hospitalized
and even they were surprised
at the destruction.

So I must be a cutter.
But I don’t have the right
to label myself.

I only know me.
And I don’t matter.
So I must not be one.

*But I am one

At two weeks old I was blessed to be healthy, happy, and strong.
Which is actually really sweet.

At eight years old I was baptized fully underwater in a giant tub.
It sounds stranger than it was.

At eight years old I was confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints and given the gift of the Holy Ghost.
But why would the counsel of the Holy Ghost be a gift only given to those in this church?
And why is the name so **** long?

At twelve years old I was moved to different classes separated by gender then brought back together an hour later.
The concept and schedule of a three hour church day is quite strange.

At sixteen years old I could have followed the rule my parents and higher-ups had made to not date until sixteen but only in groups.
At fifteen years old I broke the rule and found a boy to call my own.

At eighteen years old I graduated from seminary, even though I lied.
It helps when we graded ourselves.

At eighteen years old I could have followed the rule my parents and higher-ups had made to be allowed to date without being in a group.
But I broke this rule three years prior.

At twenty-one years old I could have chosen to spend two years away from school, family, friends and serve the church through a mission.
A scary thought to me but a great experience to those who are faithful.

At twenty-one years old I told my parents, “I don’t think I believe.”
**And crazily, they still love me.

Who is this person staring me down?
Watching me without any doubts.
She sees who I am behind the mask I wear.
She knows who I am without speaking.
This woman knows the pain I feel inside.
This woman understands why I do what I do.
This girl looks into my eyes and doesn’t even blink.
This girl sees the truth I don’t want to see.

Naked trees and close to green bushes are no longer seen.
Five, six, seven inches of snow piled on branches.
Creating sad plants, drooping down.
Height is cut in half.
Now transfer that image to the soul.
You see my depression.