i ran out of therapy and never went back.
no, it wasn't because i was afraid to talk about my problems
talk to me, talk to me about my anxiety and depression
talk to me about the slight hint of an eating disorder which i've carried in my sleeve ever since i was ten years old
talk to me about my fear of men and my need for their approval
i know my demons and i know them well,
i don't need to hide from them
i learnt how to face them ever since they stared back at me whenever i looked in the mirror and got tangled in the curls of my hair and i'm assuming they're hidden in the knots of my mind too

i ran out of therapy and never went back not because of my diseases but because of the fear of never finding a cure
you see i've tried the pills and i've tried the "lifestyle changes" and the yoga and meditation and all that
i've tried enduring it, i've tried ignoring it, i've tried fighting it
i've numbed it, i've hurt it, i've eaten it whole
but i've never tried to talk it out to a soul that has the potential to understand my soul
i talked to my best friend who recognized my demons because they inflict(ed?) her too and she listened and helped but she couldn't fix me, you understand?
and so i talked to my mom and she was a kind soul until she wasn't and said i was an ungrateful *****
then there was my favorite teacher who told me i needed help and that he wasn't equipped to do so
my boyfriend is still in denial, i think,
he listens though, a lot

but at the end of every failed attempt at a cure lies the same suggestions
"talk to someone, get therapy"
and i let myself believe that that was where the problem to all my solutions
no, sorry, i mean the solution to all my problems was
so i always had a back up, you see?
i always knew that when the sleeping pills didn't help me sleep
and when the yoga position did nothing more than pull a muscle
i always had a back up,
i'd call the therapist
i'd pull out the bigguns
and i'd be ok
because she had all the solutions
(the therapist has to be a girl, remember my fear of men?)
so the therapist always had all the solutions and so if i ever needed to be ok
i knew where to go

only that one day when stuff got bad
and i mean 4 hours in the ER with a morphine drip bad
i was sent to the therapist and ****
****
****
****
she was a good woman, you know?
a good woman with kids and a nice house and a cat and a dog who lived in harmony
all that great stuff
and she asked me about my family and all that
and i smiled and told her all that
and an hour and a half went past
and i felt really sleepy
like really sleepy
and still heavy and sad
and i said listen, woman, this costs way more than i can afford
so i need you to fix me in the next session
i'm sorry
she replies
in that therapist voice
(i HATE that voice)
i'm sorry
this will take months
weekly session
oh,
and you haven't paid yet
so please pay at the counter
and starting January
the fees for the sessions double
just a warning
then she led me out
and i saw her dog
and her cat
and her bookshelves
and they weren't the solution
they didn't help
there wasn't a magic pill
or if there was she didn't give it to me
and this would take time
time i didn't have
money i didn't have
i am not rich enough to be sick
i have work to do
i can't sit here and feel crap
i need a solution
i thought she was my solution
i thought she was my solution

i ran out of therapy and never went back
i tell myself the reason i'm still ****** in the head is because i didn't go through the whole course of therapy
that feel good
telling myself that feels good
because i still have a solution
my new solution is months of therapy
which i still haven't tried
and i never will
because i can't go to therapy and not get fixed
because i'll have nothing left then
i won't have hope then
i need hope now
i need hope more than cure now
so i think if i go to therapy long enough, i'll be cured
but i'll never go to therapy long enough
because i know somewhere inside that that isn't the answer
but i'll tell myself it is
i'll force myself to believe it is
ok therapy will help
when i spend the money and the time
it will it will
i will
be fixed
i can be fixed
there is hope.

Being real is hard
as opposed to being fake
as opposed to being bubbling plastic, mask this
look past my plausibility
soft body
teeth mouth throat
eyelashes,
heart
fake
styrofoam
empty
deserted
these eyes are what I have to offer now, these ears
If you had reached me earlier, I would've had more
to put at your disposal:
my devotion
my hands
my feet
my sanity
my presence in this day, for this conversation
my heart, soul, and chapstick
but I've said too much.
If you had reached me earlier
I swear I would've given you the rib-cage straight out of my chest  
before your lips were halfway open and asking--
I know I would've been in your veins before fall
But I can't worry about your veins now,
I've opened too many of mine
and what I'm trying to say is honey,
My heart isn't full enough for me to pour it out to you every night.
You know I wish I could

I write poems because,
Poets are the people,
Who understand how i feel,
How it is like to love,
To lose it,
I write my madness,
Craziness,
Faithfulness,
And like many artists,
My loneliness,
Poets don't criticize,
Like the rest of the world,
They may smile,
Or cry reading,
But never be leaving,
An insult,
Because they understand,
They know the pain,
They feel it,
When i have a problem,
I have no one to share with,
No friends,
Not siblings,
Definitely not my family,
I turn to poetry,
I can write what i want,
I write what i feel,
I write out my troubles,
Rhyming words,
In small thought bubbles,
And crying inside,
No one to sit beside,
No one to hold,
Everything is cold,
Poetry is the only thing,
Keeping me alive,
it helps me survive!

i'll leave
                        pieces of
                                                           my
love                                                                               everywhere
                                                                ­                                                    like
                                                            peta­ls
            in                                                  ­                the                 wind
                            and                    i        ­                                                         hope
you              find                                        the­m                        and                
                  kn­ow                                   i                   wait                        
                                                    for you.

i'm sorry
i don't talk much.
it's hard
to think
with all this
chaos
in my head.
quiet people
have the loudest minds
and it's
loud enough
in here.