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jc Dec 2014
you may be over there
and i may be over here
but at least we are under the same sky, sun, moon, and stars
& that may be all i can get
(harry styles, my happiness)
jc Dec 2014
when you are sad,
you start to notice the little things people do.
like, pulling their sleeve down to hide all skin,
look down when walking; not up.
that's the thing,
you take notice to things that you also know
& you understand.
maybe you've noticed before, but not the reason why.
because when you are sad,
you see so much more.
jc Dec 2014
these thoughts
of never being good enough,
of constant let down,
of being unlovable,
are slowly but
surely
killing
me
  Dec 2014 jc
bc
One
I hate myself.
Two
I'm scared to sleep at night because whenever I close my eyes it's as if the ruthless words of hatred and disgust that you throw at me relentlessly replay over and over in my head as if it was a broken record perched on the top of a dusty shelf that isn't within a reachable distance.
Three*
I don't know who I am anymore. I lost her somewhere within this sea of sadness I plunged myself into.
Four
Fat, Ugly, Worthless. Fat, Ugly, Worthless. Fat, Ugly, Worthless.* These are the words that taunt me everyday and latch onto me like a bloodthirsty leech that just found a new piece of flesh to feed off of.
Five
Whenever somebody tells me to be who I am and that they won't judge. I laugh. I laugh because being who I am is just a distant memory. I cant be who I am because I lost when I skipped my first meal. I lost who I was when I learned what it felt like to genuinely hate myself. I lost myself when I learned how to numb myself so that I feel nothing at all. Now here I am in present time, curled up in a ball of my own self pity, crying out all the feelings I wish I had.
Six
Somedays, I wish I could find the me that loves me, but I can't because the horrid words that you uttered to me stabbed her over and over again relentlessly and when you finally walked away, she stood there bleeding out all the love and trust she used to have.
Seven
I hate telling people how I really feel because they take it as a yearning for attention, not a cry for help. I hate telling people how I feel because they would treat me as if I was a problem and not a human.
Eight
I just wish that someone would paint on me as if I were a blank canvas and turn me into something magnificent because I am tired of continuously painting
myself in hopes that my tear-stained cheeks, lifeless eyes, and pain will turn me into the beautiful girl society expects me to be.
Nine
I just wish I was normal.

-b.c.
First poem I published on here, I hope you like it. -b.c.
jc Dec 2014
oh how i wish
i could be like the other girls
focused on happiness, carefree
but i am not
i am me,
and that is the
exact
problem
jc Dec 2014
the worst thing
that i've done to myself
is believe that someone
could actually care
about
**me

— The End —