Everyone goes through some stuff in their life that they want to change.
Something that hurt them, someone who changed them, a situation that could have been avoided.
And we have to face the realization that we can't change any of it.
I wish I could write a letter to myself.
My past self.
I could tell her that the minds of teenagers get dark and scary.
I would inform her that razors should only be used to shave.
I would plead that she didn't let her insecurities stop her from reaching her goals.
I would enlighten her that no matter how much make-up, dieting, or personality changes she commits too; its better to change for yourself than turn into something your not for others.
I would encourage her to not think twice. STOP OVERTHINKING.
I would remind her that she is young and yes, death is unpredictable but so is your ability to reach your biggest dreams. Reach for your dreams.
Don't think of death as a dead line; great things take time.
Everyone makes mistakes.
I would tell her that one day she will have these unexplainable feelings for a girl. It will seem impossible, but do not give up on her.
I would warn her about the high school boys that will only use her, no matter how Christian they are.
Create friendships, get to know people before you give yourself away.
Let things take its course and you may be surprised where it takes you.
I would explain all of the great things that I have experienced, and inform her that the world can be bright.
I would remind her that her parents only want what is best for her, and they are more supportive than she thinks.
I would let her know that people will leave her, and it will be hard for awhile, but she will survive.
You will survive.

I am obsessed with my health. Not just simply my health, but my weight, and my eating habits, and my view on life and myself. I am so obsessed that it has now gotten to the point where it is all I think about, and it has become obvious to everyone around me.

I can tell you which lunch ladies at my school won't question your lunch choices, which teachers will let you sit in their classrooms during lunch because you don't want to be around anyone or food; I have memorized restaurant menus, and I can tell you the meals with the lowest amounts of calories. My photo gallery is full of screenshots of healthy, low calorie, low fat, no-sugar recipes that I intend to make when I choose. I follow 177 eating disorders blogs on Tumblr. One of them being my girlfriend, and I get notifications when all of them post anything new. I weigh myself everyday, I know what I am eating two days from now, I overexercise, and I can tell you how many calories are in the 6 200mg ibuprofen I take everyday before facing the world.

I have lost 20 lbs. That doesn't seem like something worth keeping to myself, but it is when you are a high school girl; it is when all girls think the same, and suddenly when they hear numbers, they want to be number 1; they want to be the lowest, to be the winner, to be the most miserable person.

I can tell you exactly what it feels like to be embarrassed of being in your own skin.

I love giving other people food because I want them to remember that food is good for them. I want them to feel as though being given food is a kind gesture, not a last resort.

I don't talk about my problems because I don't want my problems to become yours.
I don't want you to adopt my destructive habits and thoughts. The way I avoid questions and disguise bad situations.
I don't talk about the things I have had to experience, not because I don't want you to know those things about me, but because I know that they will change you. In some way. Maybe they will change the way you see me, the way you treat me, or maybe even the way you see the rest of the world and yourself.
I don't want to tell you every detail about my relations with men because I don't want you to fear them as well.
I don't want to tell you about the harassment and torture I endured throughout the years because I don't want to reveal the things that hurt me.
I don't want to tell you about my eating disorders and the way I think because I don't want to give you an instruction manual on ******* yourself.

I avoid becoming too personal with people because it makes me vulnerable. I do not favor being used.

I get irrationally angry when I see that my friends are going through the same problems as me. Maybe it is because I care about them, or it could be because I am jealous. I honestly don't know.

I feel like I am doing a lot and not enough at the same time, and I hate myself for it. I punish myself with restless nights of crying and bleeding, torture myself with challenges against successful people, push myself to the brink of pain and defeat because I know I am cable of being successful. So why do I not just do more?

Penises make me uncomfortable because they have only been used against me. Uncomfortable is not a strong enough word to explain the disgust that rises up my throat, the sickening feeling that tears at my stomach and lungs, the feeling of having to retract all of my limbs into my body, or at least as close as physically possible.

I can not stand the thought of having *** with a male, but does that make me a lesbian? Or does that just mean I am terrified of the possiblity of experiencing PTSD? If I think these flashbacks are bad enough, I don't want to experience anything more.

I only date guys that resembles the man that hurt me first.

When I am in a perfect relationship, I ruin it on purpose because I am scared of commitment.

I crave the things that hurt me, like razor blades, and chemicals that fill my lungs and poison my liver. Like a firm hand, a hot flame, a brick wall; I even crave the sounds of warning that my body gives when it is slowly dieing. The white lights, ears ringing, the light headed feeling when I stand up. I crave the black circles under my eyes, the transparency of my skin, the feeling of bones. I crave the blood pumping through my veins going 70 on a road with my eyes closed. I crave self destruction.

Is it love when I tense up every time he holds me?
Do I call it love when he is inches away from me and all I can think about is holding my breath because I would rather fail at making myself pass out than fail to admit that I do not love him?
I love how straight forward and confident he can be when he wants something enough, but does that mean I love him?
I love how intimidating and controlling he can be sometimes, but I'm not sure I would call that love.
What do I call it when he grabs my neck from behind and kisses me?
Is it love when he touches me, and I have to count down the seconds until I can breathe normally again?
Is it love when he talks about the future we could have, and I cringe?
Do I call it love when he makes me feel defeated and owned?; To feel as though you are obligated to marry someone?
He wants to call it love, but how can I when I picture someone else when we kiss to keep me from running away?
How can I call it love when all I want to do is rip out his heart because I believe he does not know how to use it?
I will not call this LOVE because it is DEFEAT and HOPELESSNESS

I will call this sick
And crazy
And psychotic
Because that is the ONLY explanation for me straining to make this work

8:30AM
I think I'm done with poetry guys, I'll see you around.

I am scared.
Of everything.
I am scared that the people that have been there for me in the past will not be there for me when I need them most.
I am scared that maybe I won't graduate.
That I won't go to college.
I'm scared that I might actually go to college but then I won't know what to do.
I'm scared that I am not aiming for the right degree.
I'm scared that I will get the right degree and get my dream job but then I won't like it.
I'm scared that I am too focused on my future that I will look back on my past and realize that I didn't do anything with it.
I'm scared that I am wasting my time trying to become something for the possibly that I might become nothing.
I am scared to move.
I am scared to get out of this town and get lost in a big city with no one to run to.
I am scared to stay here and this be the only place I will ever know.
I am scared of my genetics.
I am scared to have kids and have them suffer because they will have some hereditary disease that I can't watch them live through.
I am scared that I will never become a mother because of my fear of being a failure.
I am scared that these fears mean nothing but I am obsessing over them anyways.
I am scared of having a reason to be scared...
And that scares me.

I know that I over think every possible situation and analyze everything before finally making a decision but please don't tell me to "relax".

My future is in my hand right out in front of me, I keep holding it up no matter how tired my arm gets because I am determined.
I am so determined to make something of it and then you just tell me to drop it.
"Relax"

Telling me to relax is like telling me to drop my future, like I can just pick it up off of the floor when it is time for me to do something with it.
Like I can just start from where I left off.
No.

Relaxing is like dropping my future and just when it is time for me to get it started, it is already ruined because I broke it when I "relaxed".

I have come so far from not knowing what I wanted to do with my life and where I want to go and who I want to be so NO I am not going to "relax".

I am not going to let go of all the progress I have made just so I can not be ready when I have to fend for myself.
I am going to be ready.

I will relax when I succeed.

I don't care who you are, if you judge people for a living then I recommend that you take a long good look at your life because if you are taking that time out of your life to criticize other people for being someone that they want to be then you need to fix yourself. Fix your mind set. Fix the way you see the world because who ever taught you that being yourself is wrong did not teach you right. I will not judge you for wanting to be a different gender. I will not judge you for your beliefs and religions. I will not judge you for the clothes you wear or the music you listen too so why the **** should you be able to judge me? I as so sick of being looked at and automatically labeled. If I wanted to be labeled then I would label myself.

Why is it that soldiers are trading dog tags for hospital beds and body bags?
Why are graduates gambling away their lives through drugs and alcohol?
Why is it that we have to keep moving on like things are okay? Like this isn't as messed up as the news make it sound
Why is it that teenage girls are playing a game of rullet with their bodies; like teen pregnancy is just a myth
Why are young kids that have expierenced true pain not acknowledged; like their hurt is not worthy of being praised
"They don't know true pain. They're just kids"
Oh but their pain is just as real as yours.
Why do we rely on relationships to help us feel whole?
Like happiness is received through the lips of another and love is something guarantied
Why are we knocked down by all that is wrong with the world just so someone can say "get up"?
How many people have to leave are lives while we are dreaming of the memories only certain minds can relate?
How many times are we supposed chock on last goodbyes due to illnesses that don't have cures?
How many kids are going to be left with out parents? Sisters? Brothers? How many kids are going to be orphens of the world that has turned them down time and time again?
How many?
How many kids will leave all of their faith in fictional characters, in superheros, until they are shown the justice that they have longed for?
What level of the word "racist" are we supposed to reach before something is actually done to stop it?
Its not really the number of problems I'm looking for
What I really want to know is how many people are going to take a stand to actually stop these things?

She's turning 84 soon.
I don't remember exactly the last time I saw her but I think it was at the funeral.
Death weighs heavy on hearts that love,
And she had become weak.
You could see it.
See it in her eyes when she cried.
You could see it in her hands.
Oh her hands.
As weird as it may be, her hands were the first thing that I remember about her.
She wore bands around every finger, like the rings of a tree truck when love has aged into something less adoring.
Yes she was a widow but she was the Queen.
Being too young for school, my sister and I went to her house every week.
And like clockwork she repeated every move she had done the day before and the one before that.
I remember how much she loved to knit and crochet.
I told her that I wanted to learn and she told me "good for you. You'll see it is very relaxing. Doing the same things, you don't really think about what you're doing anymore"
I crochet whenever I have the time and I now know what she meant.
Most times then not, I seem to day dream; thinking, about anything.
I remember her collection of books and newspapers, the bibles that she kept by her chair.
Of course they weren't of my interest but because they were to her, she would always be reading this one book.
Even when she fell asleep, she could not put the book down.
She had told me that she read it 4 times and she planed to do it again.
It was called "Julie of the Wolves"
I bought this book a few years ago and I still can't find it interesting.
It sits on my shelf, untouched, but unforgotten.
She is a babysitter, and a mother as well as a grandmother.
Family and friends were always over at her house, company was always welcome.
She had many kids, and her kids had many grandkids.
Her friends that came over so often had kids that had kids and it took me a while to realize it but,
She was old.
She is old.
She is a family tree that has grown bigger than most because of the love she spreads.
She tought me things without even realizing it.
I learned how too make the perfect peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
There wasn't too much of either and she always cut the sand which in half to help my sister and I know the good of sharing.
Almost like herself,
She wasn't too strick or too nurturing, she treated everyone equally and did nothing but that.
Its been 8 years.
Her daughter passed away, I'm still not exactly sure how or why.
It was the only funural I was ever invited to, and I cried.
I cried when I saw how hurt she was, how hurt everyone was.
I didn't understand death until that day.
I looked at Tanya's body and I realized why she was hiden under a sheet.
Its been 8 yeas since I have seen her.
I follow her on Facebook, the only way I can keep an update on her.
Death weighs heavy on hearts that love, and she has become weak.
She is fragile and old, I know this.
Its because I was just invited to her 84th surprise birthday party that I was bombarded with memories of her.
This woman has changed my life, not just by being her, for giving birth to amazing people, for introducing me the people that I know as friends today.
Her name is Charlotte, she likes to repeat things over and over again.
Sooner or later you don't even start to think about it anymore.
You just day dream, and think,
about anything.

Its the way she talks about the things she is passionate about that makes me fall even harder for her
I love how she doesn't care about her appearance and how she has gotten me to focus less on mine
I can't help but smile whenever I think back to the moments when I am with her
She always seems to impress me with some hidden talent or personality feature
She is never boring or original, even her family can surprise me at the most random of times
Whenever I am with her she makes everything seem like it is okay
I stress over a lot of things and no matter what situation it is she can make me look at it from a different view
I love her so much but I fail to say it enough
So even if she never knows what I think about her or even if we don't last, I just hope she knows that she has made me into a better person and that I hope she will keep changing me for the better in the future

Eyes are the gateway to the soul.
I used to be able to look into someone's eyes and see happiness, everyone was always so happy.
Few people would ever look sad, their eyes would show flashbacks of pain and doubt, always hurt by the past.
I used to look in the mirror and laugh because I would watch my memories dance around my eyes and bring me joy.
But then reality kicked in.
I can't stand to look at myself in the mirror.
Now when I look at myself, it's like I fade to black and white.
I am dragged into my soul and drown by my memories.
I am tortured by what has happened to me and what has happened to the people around me, I am suffocated by the reality of the world and the brutality of people.
I am scared to keep eye contact with people because I don't want them to be dragged into the darkness of my memories.
I don't want them to see the things I won't tell them.
There are only a few times when I can hold eye contact, and that's when someone understands.
I meet my friends eyes and I can see their hurt, our memories comfort each other saying "you're not alone".

When you see a painting hanging on a wall,
You don't really question it,
You see the painting as it is and its placement on the wall, not much else.

Some people are more interested than others and so they want to buy the painting.

They see its origin, the frame, its design, how much effort was put into it, the story behind its art.

After a while, some people get bored of it,
They give it away because they don't want it anymore.

And while some people took the time to look at my art,
You spent all of your money on paintings that weren't me.

She is a pearl, not fully grown yet.
She hides in her shell away from the predators that only want to rob her of herself.
Over the years she grows, she adapts to the world around her because she knows that once she is done growing she will be something beautiful.
She plays show and tell with the tales of her young depression, the solitary game of hide of seek that she wanted so badly to win but she could never find herself.
The only game she ever wins is the mind game that no one other than herself can figure out.
She is awarded champion for making it into high school, the hell years of her life.
She did it, she made it this far,
And now everyone and everything are at her throat trying to drown her in her self doubt and the misery that a waits when she comes up for air.
She holds her trophy high as if it was supposed to be a beaken of hope repeating to herself "I can do it".
She questions her heart, like her heart is the one teasing her with happiness but we all know it isn't.
She tries so hard to hide herself from everyone who could potentially cause her harm but its impossible, her shell is cracked and everyone has found the opportunity to try to break in.
Her insecurities are scars, heart breaks are bruises, betrayel shows as broken bones, dishonesty are missing teeth for each person who has ever walked out of her life.
...
She plays a game of show and tell with her young depression, like she can point to each scar and say "I was fat", each bruise and repeat "he left me for her", each broken bone, each tooth and her tears will tell you the rest.
She will walk over to her trophy case and sigh because she knows it doesn't give her hope, its just proof showing she could withstand breaking infront of everyone for years.
She is a pearl who grew up the wrong way, she will never be perfect.
She will have dents and cracks and she won't be as strong as she was supposed to be.
But that doesn't matter because only beautiful people show their flaws,
She is still everything beautiful to me.

You let go. Move forward. And yes, sometimes it hurts.

It's heartbreaking but when their are two
One must go

I have not felt this happy in years, thank you

The little girl that used to be so happy is now torn to bits from the disappointment and dishonesty of the people that once grasped her trust.
Her body trembles, destroying every ounce of decency and bravery she build up for herself, crumbling to the depths of her soul like an earthquake. Her demons wave her heart on a string like bate as her only hope was to catch it and be free. Her soul in which resembles an endless pit that was dug by the people with the determination of ruining her life, their only goal to make her feel anything but human. She trembles only to cradle herself in the blood stained arms that read "broken" and "useless".
She walks the world, but does not have enough strength to hold off the judgement and infectious torment from the people around her, falling to her knees in defeet.
The strings of her heart play beautiful melodies which can only be accomponied by the sound of chalk streaking across the blackboard of the classroom in which she sits in silence, only to be bombarded by the memories of self hatred.
Her eyes tell stories of times changed and gone. The hurtful sayings of the horific beings who threw rocks at recess stain her cheeks through the long nights of the nightmares she can never form the words to describe, only to line her lips. The lips she forces into a smile everyday that insure that her loved ones don't have to worry.
She carves "I'm fine" into her brain only hoping that the words she repeats to herself will finally sink in.
Her torso scarred from his hands, expossing everything she has tried to hide. So broken, you can look through her rib cage and find the heart with the messy stitches sewn from shaking hands because she could never find anyone else to support her.
Her legs are stakes in the ground as white flags, surrendering to the pain and showing her signs of weakness. Each step she takes trying to walk out of life she does not want anymore forms another crack in her plastured exterior.
Her eyes have grown accustomed to the dark where she has been forced to hide.
Jealousy taking over her as she looks into the eyes of the beautiful beings who greet her with real smiles.
Her ears are pulled inside-out only to hear her horid thoughts.
Perfect souls greet her with kindness only to be stoped by the harsh words she repeats, creating a bubble filled with the poisonous laughter of her demons saying "you lost".
She has no choice but to stay in her bubble because she has been infected with false reality and depression, she stays to keep her loved ones safe for if she leaves her bubble then they will get hurt.
So she wears a sign around her neck that reads "dangerous" only hoping they are smart enough to walk away.

Home is where I grew up
It's where we buried my favorite dog
It's the yellow and red tulips in the back yard
It's the memories of the celebrations and holidays
It's where my friends were
It's the tennis court on the next block
It's the elementary school we walked to
It's the library rock wall that we walked along
It's the skating rink we go to every Friday night
It's where I grew up
It's the kitchen where the height measurements on the door frame still stand
It's the closet from my room where I hid my secrets
It's the long nights I stayed up laughing with my sister
It's achievements I was awarded
It's the kitchen cabinet where I would always hide
It's the memory of my brother and how he treated us
It's the barking in the middle of the night when we got our new puppy who is now bigger than I am
It's the shed in the yard next door where I had fun
It's the memory of my neighbors
It's the nights I spent grieving with my sister
It's Jimmy joining in the army
It's where I got most of my injuries
It's the sleepovers with my friend Tennison
It's how me and Makayla danced in the dining room
It's my job as a babysitter and a dog walker
It's my crush living at the end of the block
It's the abandoned house where we hung out
It was the trips to JR's house
It was where I learned to ride a bike, crochet, play soccer, basketball, tennis
It's where I discovered myself
It's the memory of packing and moving out
It's Greg and his family trashing my dad's hard work
Home is not riding the bus to school
It's not my brother moving out
It's not the drama
It's not the bad things that have happened
It's not the hospital bills
It's not the white picket fence in the front yard
This may be where I live and I know my thoughts will change but for right now
This is not my home.

Show                                                      That
them                                                       they
   the                                                         love
smile                                                      to see


                                  :)

Even                 ­                                          happy
     if                                                         Be
         it                                                  to
          ­    means                       pretending
                          faking it and

There is something I should tell you
Something you may know
You see, I have this problem
It formed a long time ago
It started when I was 10
A little chubby, a little reserved
I was a victim and a target
I got what I never deserved
With the few friends I had
We started growing apart
For little did they know
I needed a new start
I was done with the torture
The rejection, so I changed
If only I could have seen
This idea was deranged
I starved myself of the food
That caused me so much pain
Little did I know
That things would not change
They still looked at me the same
As a helpless little toy
That they loved to play with
That they had to destroy
Hidding in a skeleton
Was the mess that was made
I lost all hope
I could not be saved
My worst fear was people
For they caused me so much doubt
That I felt the urge to leave
I had to get out
I don't want to grow up anymore
I never expected it to turn out like this
Why does everyone want to hurt me?
Is this what living is?
So many times I have tried
To be more optimistic
But everywhere I go
The people are horrific
He used her, he got me
He cheated and lied
He is in jail
For things he couldn't hide
She hurt me, she was fake
Once she was my only friend
Now she's gone and
Our friendship has met its end
I loved him, he didn't love me
I guess I should have known
His heart belongs to her
And he has her own
Eating makes me sick
I don't get very much sleep
I can't take this any longer
I have fallen way to steep
"I can't drowned my demons
They know how to swim"
My demons are the people
And I have let them win
This problem I am talking about
Not many can suggest
But since I was the age of 10
I have felt depressed

"see you later "
                              Is a promise.
      While
                  "good bye"*
                                        Is a precaution.

I knew that talking to you again
Was a huge mistake
I'm sorry, I don't know
How much more I can take

My plan is to graduate, go to college in some state
To take my friend to Canada before it's too late

I want to be a teacher or a councillor, something nice
I want to travel around the world, no matter the price

To go see China and learn the language and their ways
To go to Africa and watch how they live for days

I want to travel to India and visit some friends
I want to spend my life in Italy and hope it never ends

Germany, France, Mexico, Spain
Romania, Greece, Iraq, Ukraine

I really need to go to "the land of the green"
Meet up with friends and do everything in between

I know that I won't travel that far or do all of those things
But I have to be honest, it's a wonderful dream

Why do I still care about the people that have walked out of my life?

Love her and hold her
And give her the world
Because she won't always
Be your little girl

Every child is born
With a puzzle to do
Some smaller than others
But same in point of view

As you live your life
You search for every piece
You find them in the people you meet
Or in places you find peace

Sometimes your pieces
Don't fit like they should
So you take them out
And find a place they could

Some people are so desperate
To find the right part
That they'll force them in places
That ruins the art

When a piece doesn't fit
Then you set it aside
It will be important later
It will have to be applied

But those people that are desperate
May take those away
They'll find a place that it fits
Along with the price to pay

Puzzles are made
With similar design
So they can get away
With taking what was mine

Too many people
Took what were important to me
So my puzzle is left unfinished
And I can't see what it would be

I can't finish my puzzle
And show my work of art
I can't get a new puzzle
And go back to the start

Selfish people have ruined
The only thing I had
I can't find my pieces
I have nothing more to add

So I throw away my puzzle
Since there is nothing more to do
I walk through the door
This is all because of you

Hidden from the world, their expectations too high
I will never reach them, even if I try.

So I change myself; My face, my hair,
Everything that makes me ME, no one will care.

Soon enough, I'm not the same as I used to be
No longer that little girl that everyone loved to see.

I have become a fake person with fake aspects
So afraid of their expectations of having to be perfect.

I have lost the only people that cared about the real me
Now I'm a nail, holding up their reputations like the tool they want me to be.

I am defenseless and the only thing I can do is be quiet
This is what I wanted, right? The new look, personality and diet.

I wanted to reach their expectations and still I fail to do that
I changed myself for them but still they walk all over me like a mat.

I guess their expectations were too high, I couldn't go that far
Now I have to live with them ******* me dry of myself like the leeches they are.

You told me you
Couldn't trust anymore
So you locked your heart
And you shut the door
I would knock and
Knock everyday
I waited for a response
Then I walked away
Soon I grew tired
Of trying to earn your trust
Your teardrops on
doorknobs begin to rust
It was pointless to knock
So I just walked in
Your trust in me
Growing more thin

"No more doors
We can have a new start
Now I only have
To unlock your heart"

"But why should I trust
The one that didn't knock?"

*"Because I am the only one
That cares about your lock

Everyone else left
For the same reason I stayed
Because I couldn't bare
To watch you use that blade"

Everybody knows
that when you sleep
You drift into your mind
a little too deep
You have dreams that you like
and dreams that are scary
Dreams you wish to live
And dreams you wish to bury
Sometimes our minds
Lose control when we sleep
So we live too high
And fall too steep
Sometimes we dream
Of people in our lives
Sometimes they're decent
And sometimes they die
But what we don't understand
About these things
Is that they have a meaning
What ever that may bring

When I am really depressed and sad,
I laugh.
I know it's not going to help
But it's a good disguise.
Sometimes I just laugh
Because I know that if I don't
I'm going to break down in endless tears.

My friend decided to make up
This holiday for holding hands.
Every Wednesday she would grab my hand and we would walk down the halls telling people to do the same.
The thought of it still makes me smile.
Well, one day
There was this stranger.
I had seen him before, but I never talked to him.
But I held his hand, he didn't mind,
I was expecting him to pull away or something
But he just smiled and walked with me.
We started talking through out the school year
And a few broken hearts later he decides
To tell me he had a crush on me,
That this crush had been going on since
That Wednesday when I held his hand.
Later I had fallen into this depression.
I didn't want to talk to anybody,
I didn't want to hold hands.
Me and this guy got distant,
Until one Wednesday when we were
Talking, I held his hand.
And that's when I told him I had a crush on him too.
In that moment, I had never seen him smile that big.
He told me he had been dying to hold my hand again.
My mistake was the timing..
He was moving.
We got close and we had to say good bye.
To this day I still find myself thinking about him
Whenever I hold hands with somebody.

You think you have so much life to live
But that time bomb you have in your chest
Keeps ticking
Everything you do is being timed
The amount of time you have left
Keeps ticking down
You don't have as much life
As you thought you did yesterday
so live
You're dying.
It's a fact
Most of us are already dead
So live what you have left
And just be happy.
Stop concentrating on the bad
That has happened to you over
The years
That's not going to do any good
Life is short
Stop wasting it on things from the past

Everything you do revolves around the word
                                                                           perfect

Everything you are is
                                    beatiful

You may not think you are gorgeous but you are.
You truly are.
You have one of the loveliest smiles I have ever seen.
You think everybody criticises how you look but they just envy it.
Your figure is perfect, and if you still don't think that then just remember how much weight you lost.
Remember when you decided nobody would ever date you.
That you thought you were hideous.
Just think of your boyfriend, and how happy he makes you.
He loves YOU for YOU.
I envy the relationships you have.
You can talk to people that live in a different state and treat them like they live a few blocks away from you.
You don't worry about the "long distance" thing
The "you-don't-really-know-what-they're-doing" thing
That's all I worry about.
You have a best friend that would go to prison for ****** just to see you happy.
She might as well be your sister :p
Oh
And if this isn't enough to make you think differently about yourself then think about this:
I love you.
I LOVE you.
I love YOU.
I don't love you for the way you look and neither shoukd anybody else.
You don't need make-up
You don't need to improve yourself
You don't need to worry about what people think about you;
But you do anyways.
You don't see that people love you, because you can't even love yourself.
You let people get to you.
I understand that is easy to do, people are mean and vicious.
They will tear you apart without even noticing it.
And you let them.
They have torn you apart and now you can't see past what they've told you.
I love you soooooo much but you lose me off at times.
Please stop looking at yourself like all those lies are true.
:) you are beatiful and that's all you need to know.

She makes me so happy that I can't explain what my life would be like without her.
She has been there for me in some pretty bad times.. even when I didn't want her to find out I was in pain.
She knows me more than I know myself.
She shows me different sides of me that I didn't know existed.
We've had some fights and there are still times when I want to bash her head in with my own fist.. but I love her death.
I would risk my life for her and I know she would do the same in return although I won't let her.
I can't stand to see her upset, it makes me feel like I have to make things better so she can be happy..
But she pushes me away so it gets harder to do.
We are inseparable.
We have been with each other since the beginning and we'll end that way.
Seeing her happy and laughing can brighten my entire day.
I am lucky to have her as a sister.
Even though I may get mad and push everyone away, I appreciate that you've never given up on me.
Thank you makayla :)

It's where I met my friends
It's where I fell in love
It's where I learned to skate
It's where I go to have fun
The memories I have from this place aren't all great..
It's also the place where I found out I was being cheated on.
Lied to.
Used.
It's where I talked friends out of suicide.
That bathroom has helped me in more ways then you would think.
Those walls and tiles have felt my anger,
That bathroom stall has hidden my tears from the world,
And that mirror has showed me the truth.
The people that work there are my best friends, my friends from school go there too.
They are the people that helped me through hard times,
They are the ones that make my day better, sometimes even my entire week.
When I go there, all of my worries subside for a little bit and I just have fun.
This is the place I go to when I need a break.
A break from my parents,
A break from the drama,
A break from the depression that always finds its way into my life.
These people have hugged me out of love and kindness,
They have made me laugh in my worst moments,
They have given me their trust and I do the same in return.
If you still don't understand why I would love this so much, then let me share something else:

As soon as I walk through the doors I am greeted with smiles and happiness.
They blast music to discise the silence that would normally tear me apart.
My friends are there to make it 10 times better.
As soon as I get on the rink I am free.
I am stuck in an endless circle,
Different from the world outside.
The colorful lights draw my attention away from my worries and makes me happy.

For three hours, I am happy
I am free
I am in a different world
This is why George's roller Inc is my special place