there's nothing inspirational
**about a mindless war

Help may come someday
When you least expect, or want;
But it will save you.

So radiant and fascinating is a flower's beauty ,
Protected by its thorns revealing a loyal duty ...

It's almost as if my heart is building up and overflowing,
All these melancholy feelings growing stronger and not one thought can materialize
Because its like writing on your hand
Just as soon
As you write it,
It smears and
gets
washed
away.
Until all you are is a puddle of nostalgia and nothingness.
And you aren't really living at all.
Until nothing makes sense anymore
You're spinning in a circle when you think you're going straight
You're falling to the ground in your attempt to reach the stars
And anything you ever learned comes crashing down on top of you.
but you can finally see
that 2 + 2 doesn't always equal 4.
that after A doesn't always come B.
that on some days, the sun won't rise and the moon has to take its place.
you, for the first time,
realize
that
the
world
isn't
round.

I've never been one for talking.
My words have always been used sparingly
As a child, they were minimal and meaningful
But my years progressed
I lost confidence
So they became less and less.
I started to believe
That my opinion was worthless
And I could never formulate a perfect method
In which to express my emotions to others
So I began to fall into myself.
As depression hit like a crashing wave
And anxiety was the flood that followed
I looked for ways to cope.
I would attack myself with anything sharp
Sending me to the hospital was it's only effect.
An eight year battle with an eating disorder
Seldom reaped any benefits.
But through it all,
I began recording my experiences.
Not ******
But with a pen in my hand
And a cigarette hard-pressed between my lips.
I would write anywhere I could
In classes
In my bedroom
Sometimes, surrounded by nature
And it was so unexpectedly freeing.
It was as though
My words finally made sense
And flowed seamlessly, one into the next
I didn't stammer or hesitate when I wrote.
I felt esteemed and witty and self-assured
I finally had a space where I was free of judgement.
All in all,
Writing is a gift
To express thoughts and say exactly what you mean
Is beautiful.
For me,
Writing is a means of escape
Of expression
Of art.
Writing is really
The way I communicate with the world around me.