Have you ever stood on the edge of a cliff
And considered jumping?

Not because you are suicidal, but simply because you wonder
If
Maybe humans really can fly, but the ones who jumped and found out

Flew away because they realized how much better it was to live flying than to live dying

To This Day by Shane Koyczan

To This Day
When I was a kid
I used to think that pork chops and karate chops
were the same thing
I thought they were both pork chops
and because my grandmother thought it was cute
and because they were my favourite
she let me keep doing it

not really a big deal

one day
before I realized fat kids are not designed to climb trees
I fell out of a tree
and bruised the right side of my body

I didn’t want to tell my grandmother about it
because I was afraid I’d get in trouble
for playing somewhere that I shouldn’t have been

a few days later the gym teacher noticed the bruise
and I got sent to the principal’s office
from there I was sent to another small room
with a really nice lady
who asked me all kinds of questions
about my life at home

I saw no reason to lie
as far as I was concerned
life was pretty good
I told her “whenever I’m sad
my grandmother gives me karate chops”

this led to a full scale investigation
and I was removed from the house for three days
until they finally decided to ask how I got the bruises

news of this silly little story quickly spread through the school
and I earned my first nickname

pork chop

to this day
I hate pork chops

I’m not the only kid
who grew up this way
surrounded by people who used to say
that rhyme about sticks and stones
as if broken bones
hurt more than the names we got called
and we got called them all
so we grew up believing no one
would ever fall in love with us
that we’d be lonely forever
that we’d never meet someone
to make us feel like the sun
was something they built for us
in their tool shed
so broken heart strings bled the blues
as we tried to empty ourselves
so we would feel nothing
don’t tell me that hurts less than a broken bone
that an ingrown life
is something surgeons can cut away
that there’s no way for it to metastasize

it does

she was eight years old
our first day of grade three
when she got called ugly
we both got moved to the back of the class
so we would stop get bombarded by spit *****
but the school halls were a battleground
where we found ourselves outnumbered day after wretched day
we used to stay inside for recess
because outside was worse
outside we’d have to rehearse running away
or learn to stay still like statues giving no clues that we were there
in grade five they taped a sign to her desk
that read beware of dog

to this day
despite a loving husband
she doesn’t think she’s beautiful
because of a birthmark
that takes up a little less than half of her face
kids used to say she looks like a wrong answer
that someone tried to erase
but couldn’t quite get the job done
and they’ll never understand
that she’s raising two kids
whose definition of beauty
begins with the word mom
because they see her heart
before they see her skin
that she’s only ever always been amazing

he
was a broken branch
grafted onto a different family tree
adopted
but not because his parents opted for a different destiny
he was three when he became a mixed drink
of one part left alone
and two parts tragedy
started therapy in 8th grade
had a personality made up of tests and pills
lived like the uphills were mountains
and the downhills were cliffs
four fifths suicidal
a tidal wave of anti depressants
and an adolescence of being called popper
one part because of the pills
and ninety nine parts because of the cruelty
he tried to **** himself in grade ten
when a kid who still had his mom and dad
had the audacity to tell him “get over it” as if depression
is something that can be remedied
by any of the contents found in a first aid kit

to this day
he is a stick on TNT lit from both ends
could describe to you in detail the way the sky bends
in the moments before it’s about to fall
and despite an army of friends
who all call him an inspiration
he remains a conversation piece between people
who can’t understand
sometimes becoming drug free
has less to do with addiction
and more to do with sanity

we weren’t the only kids who grew up this way
to this day
kids are still being called names
the classics were
hey stupid
hey spaz
seems like each school has an arsenal of names
getting updated every year
and if a kid breaks in a school
and no one around chooses to hear
do they make a sound?
are they just the background noise
of a soundtrack stuck on repeat
when people say things like
kids can be cruel?
every school was a big top circus tent
and the pecking order went
from acrobats to lion tamers
from clowns to carnies
all of these were miles ahead of who we were
we were freaks
lobster claw boys and bearded ladies
oddities
juggling depression and loneliness playing solitaire spin the bottle
trying to kiss the wounded parts of ourselves and heal
but at night
while the others slept
we kept walking the tightrope
it was practice
and yeah
some of us fell

but I want to tell them
that all of this ****
is just debris
leftover when we finally decide to smash all the things we thought
we used to be
and if you can’t see anything beautiful about yourself
get a better mirror
look a little closer
stare a little longer
because there’s something inside you
that made you keep trying
despite everyone who told you to quit
you built a cast around your broken heart
and signed it yourself
you signed it
“they were wrong”
because maybe you didn’t belong to a group or a click
maybe they decided to pick you last for basketball or everything
maybe you used to bring bruises and broken teeth
to show and tell but never told
because how can you hold your ground
if everyone around you wants to bury you beneath it
you have to believe that they were wrong

they have to be wrong

why else would we still be here?
we grew up learning to cheer on the underdog
because we see ourselves in them
we stem from a root planted in the belief
that we are not what we were called we are not abandoned cars stalled out and sitting empty on a highway
and if in some way we are
don’t worry
we only got out to walk and get gas
we are graduating members from the class of
******* we made it
not the faded echoes of voices crying out
names will never hurt me

of course
they did

but our lives will only ever always
continue to be
a balancing act
that has less to do with pain
and more to do with beauty

Kind of hurts
to feel as if you will never truly

have a best friend

Unless you're still with the one you come to know and both feel close
or somehow grew close to each other
Or grew up with one another

Watching people who just met on the spot become close
then just when you think it's going to happen to you
It doesn't
Instead someone else smoothly makes their way in
and take the person

Both laughing , talking
Next thing you know

......you're forgotten......

than you have this void
This certain spot in your heart
That you can't seem to fill

no matter how hard you try

So you forget about it
Until you feel close to someone again
then realize and watch how close that person really is with another
Then you're just standing there

with this gut crushing feeling

that you're never to find someone like that

"What is your earliest memory?"

A loaded question -- I can't help but recall mine.
You make the memory.

It was my third birthday -- Barbie themed.
Remember that day, bud?
It was a Sunday.
Everyone came to the house after ten o'clock Mass, dressed in their Sunday best.
I was wearing a dress, something my mother made...
...Your mother was there!
I remember sitting on her lap and trying to steal the cheese squares from her plate.
I asked, "Where's Scott, Mrs.Michelle?"
She replied, "He's here, Leigh, he's here! Go in the living room."
So I did.
And there you stood.
In your hand, you held a plastic bag full of water.
"What's that, Scotty?"
You laughed and I thought that was the best thing I'd ever heard.
"It's a fish! I named it for you! It's name is Strawberry."
Goofball.
Why'd you name my gift?
...Then I noticed the button on your chest.
(This is my favorite part.)
It said, **"Hi, I'm Ken!"
And you were.
You were my Ken.

I love you passionately and deeply
I love you with my entire being
And at times like these I wonder how I’d be able to survive without you
I feel like the literal other half of me is missing, you are missing
And every few minutes our memories flood my head :
You lying down with your head on my lap
Us sharing pizza on my bed
And then - you, picking me up while we kiss, taking me to my room and resting me gently on my bed

These memories wash over me and it becomes even more obvious that this distance doesn’t phase any part of our relationship
It tests our patience, sure, but if anything else, it brings us closer together and makes us more appreciative of the time we’re able to spend with each other.

Distance…

Roommate Wanted;
Dorm includes:

Kitchen,
      With complete set of
      appliances and a table
      meant for two.

Living Room,
       with a coffee table , tv
       and the sofa we used to
       watch movies and cry on.

A Bathroom,
      with hot water and
      lonely showers.

A bedroom,
      with a half empty
      king sized bed

And closet space
     which used to house the shoes
     you walked away from me in.


For inquiries please call this number:

I made four blueberry muffins for breakfast.
I wore a sweater three sizes too big,
and sat on a futon two sizes too small,
reading a book I've only halfway finished
in twice the amount of time it would take
to write it.
I drove without my windshield wipers on,
three-quarters hoping I wouldn't make it
a quarter of the way across town.
I tried to picture myself walking around
without pulling my past along
behind me.
I tried,
but that doesn't matter.
**** today.
I only thought about you
while they were in the oven.
I only pictured you waking up
and feeling okay
every time I turned the page.
I leaned over and looked through
the right side of my windshield
to see the view you once had.
And the scars on my palms
are reopened every day
as I drag around everything
I cannot let go.

I said I’d never write about you again,
but I suppose I’m just as good at lying
as I am at leaving.
I’ve forgotten what your voice sounds like.
I always criticized you for not letting go,
as if the weights around my ankles
weren’t made of my faults
and everything I wish I could take back.
You told me today that
you’ve found love again.
I hope he finds flowers growing
from all the cracks I created
in your heart.
I hope he sees galaxies
in the darkened voids
I left behind your eyes.
I hope he understands
that you are full of splintered doors
on rusted hinges
that need to be loved and not repaired.
I hope he is nothing like me.
I’m sorry my words left scars.
I’m sorry my silence
reopened them constantly.
I’m sorry I was too busy
loving myself,
instead of loving you.

I think one of my greatest fears is disappointing others.
But not in the way of if I go to college, my job, my relationships.
I think one of my greatest fears is disappointing others with my looks.

I hate being talked about to others by people who love me.
Giving strangers some sick twisted idea that I'm some sweet, beautiful girl.
People who love you tend to forget about the not so pretty things, the not good enough things.
But I don't forget them.

Because the second I am introduced,
I can see it in their eyes,
Maybe I'm imagining it,
But I can't see past it,
They look disappointed.
So let down.
"I thought she'd be thinner...and more beautiful...oh my god look at her thighs!"
I can see it in your eyes.
In the back of your mind, I know you're thinking this.
You were led to believe I'm something greater than what's in front of you.
I'm crushed.
It's my fault,
I'm sorry.

This whole system
where
hating yourself
or trying to **** yourself
is more accepted
than loving yourself?

I am not just being cynical
I am trying to provoke thoughts
no-one is taking any action on this
that people find it more
socially acceptable
saying you are suicidal
than they do when you say
"i love myself"

I find it wrong
but i can't do anything about it
can i.