I was standing atop the mountain
and the wind blew west
and I could see the leaves follow after her

I was standing atop the mountain
and as the snow fell I could see the smoke rise
and the ash became angels

I was standing atop the mountain
and the rams were fighting where she used to stand
and as one fell I had to look away

I was standing atop the mountain
and the sun was setting
and I could see the colors bleeding all over the sky

I was laying in the valley
and the rain made me cry

I closed my eyes
and made the decision.
This was the end.
I found the pills,
and wrote my note.
My tears smudged the ink.
Pill after pill,
I began to feel light headed.
I closed my eyes.

They reminded me
                            of all the ways
                                                you've      b  r  o  k  e  n      my      h  e  a  r  t
            and I should find
                                           someone new
                             but I can't seem
                                                    **to       l­  e  t       g  o

I am Ariel Taverner
I have certain beliefs and views on life
I'm overprotective but I will **** you if you touch someone I love

I am Ariel Taverner
And for those that know me I seem to be a good person
I am. At times a very good person
But at 23:45 alone in a bed I'm pathetic

I am Ariel Taverner
And the saddest part about my life is that nobody on this globe knows who I am
I reveal aspects of my life and being to people but i never reveal the whole thing
If your were to take my friends and family and put all of their information of me together
Then in that pool of resources
That is where you would find the true me
The one that nobody sees
And nobody will because as much as I love you whoever you are in my life I.... You will never truly know me

And to me that is sad
And I am sad

I was watching the rain
Hit the pavement and break
Into a million little droplets
It was so beautiful and sad
I wished it was me

Mom says it's teenage hormones. Dad says I'm over-dramatic about it.

But I'm getting worse, not better. I'm anxious constantly, suffering from attacks ranging from small to so severe I grow ill. Thinking I could end my life should any of my fears become real was my only comfort, but even that has abandoned me. For I am a coward who cannot take her own life for fear of the unknown. A craven, afraid of deaths pain but still longing for his freeing slumber.

Apparently this is something all teenagers go through. Wanting to stay in bed all day playing dead and pretending the world can't hurt me when it can break through my windows and torture me to death whenever it pleases. Apparently every teenager sits around, wanting to die but too afraid to end it. We all cry from our pure terror of things we are too afraid to speak of, too afraid to make real with words, too afraid to even think of for too long.

I've been practicing this breathing exercise. I do it in sets of 3, sometimes sets of 5. It's funny, because usually when I do things in sets, it must be 4 or 14 or 24. Move my fingers from pinky to thumb 14 times on both hands in synch. Things like that. I don't like 3, and 5 is iffy. But the breathing exercises that distract me from wanting to rip my own flesh off must be done in 3s or 5s, apparently.

My mind is not my best friend, but sometimes, it pretends to be. It tries to convince me that mother is right. That I'll outgrow suicidal thoughts spanning as long as I can remember and severe anxiety and depression so intense it eats me alive and makes me want to gnaw my skin off, but it makes me want to float to the bottom of the ocean or fly off a cliff and be free in much quieter ways.

Falling from a cliff wouldn't be quiet. It would be messy and the wind would be in my hair and I'd make a splat as I hit the ground. But I imagine drifting down like a feather, my soul leaving my body before the destruction and my body dissolving like dust, scattered to the wind.

I am thinking of flying and vainly wishing my parents are right, that I will outgrow mental illness and that I'm over-dramatizing it somehow, because my feelings and thoughts are overdramatic and counselors and therapists are liars, since according to father they're wrong when they say they're afraid I'm becoming a danger to myself, because mom and dad say they're wrong, mom and dad say I'm not dangerous to myself I'm just stupid and senseless and an attention ***** who is too scared to die, while other, much more vibrant and amazing people are dying and deserve the air in my lungs and aren't getting it.  

This is turning into a mess, like the one I'd make if I threw myself off a cliff. So I'll stop here and wonder if my heart can stop from the empty hopelessness choking it, as well.

I used to be a dreamer,
With light in my eyes
And stars on my tights.
But now there's a watch
around my neck,
Ticking away.
Ticking away the time,
Forever reminding me,
That sadness always lurks,
No matter how grand the dream.

do you ever think about
crystallized heartbeats?
and capricorn fists holding
winter solstices within each crease,
palms like mountains
with riverbends and valleys,
cliffdiving into an ocean
of crimson skin?
the lullaby that plays over
and over
in my head is the sound
of your voice
cracking as you said,
"please don't go."
that three-word phrase
sings me to sleep
every single night.

i didn't ask for this,
you know.

i didn't ask for blown-out candles
smoke twirling into tendrils of grey
and ashy piles.
i never asked for your blank stare
when your memory was erased
by people in white coats with long needles.
i didn't ask for your arms
to become my stronghold
and my shelter against the night.

i didn't want this but now i'm addicted.

*(a.m.c.)