You stopped reading my poetry, so I decided to stop writing you poems. All you gave me were rocks to fill my pockets, although the weight kept me grounded for a while. After all, I was constantly drifting away.
I told you I was afraid of the dark so you made sure to keep my life bright.
Then you left.
Lights out.
You never noticed that even 6 months after our break up you're pictures so hung on my wall. Memories are of you are like horror movies and love stories bleeding on my carpet. You made me believe I was making something out of nothing. But before I could blink you disappeared. I begged you to stay but you shut the door in my face. No matter how hard I pushed you wouldn't open the ******* door. I didnt want to go anywhere else because you're the only home I've ever known. So what was I supposed to do when you locked the ******* door? Where do I go when "home" doesn't want me anymore? Broken and scared, I built myself a shelter out of sticks and drug addicts. Now that's where I stay. You swallowed the words "I love you" rather than feeling them get caught in your throat like blood filling up your lungs.  Trust me when I say I can't get the words off my ******* tounge. Of all the things I've left unsaid, I just wanted to scream, choose me. Choose the girl who loves you more than herself. Choose me, because of all the people in the past, future and present, I would still choose you. I wanted to beg, whatever you do, just don't leave me the way my father did. But you are long gone and I'm left to wonder why. Why didn't you choose me? I thought it was clear you should choose the girl with 7 knives sticking out of her chest, still fighting. Why wouldn't you choose the girl crying on her knees, begging,  DON'T LEAVE. But I don't blame you for choosing the ocean.  After all, who wouldn't? I'm a ***** puddle a dog wouldn't even drink from. The walls even started talking to me. Every night whispering "what if". I thought I would be devastated when you left. And I was. For months and months and months. I was a ******* disaster. Leaving pieces of my heart everywhere I went in an attempt to leave you in the past. Yet I just lost more of myself rather than you. Some nights you still coat my pillow in tears. Yet I'm thankful that some day I might forget the sound of your voice, I'll still remember the way you held me as I cried while I opened up about my ****. I'll still remember walks through the park and making love beneath the trees... My memories of you are warm like fire, like growth, evolution, the way nature will keep existing long after our love dies out. I always begged for you to worry about me, to wonder why I was drifting away. But when you didn't fight for me, I started using my own fists. Now I'm coping with the reality that our hearts don't stop beating even when our lovers have stopped giving us reasons to live. I know this is over. I won't beg you to come back, because I know- I already know. This won't last. But all I needed was for you to act like every thing was okay, until I could learn how to live when everything isn't. I still miss you, and oh god, the way our legs tangled together under the covers, my head on your chest. But lately I've been crying when I think of the way you touched me because your touching someone else.
So if you are trying to read between the lines of my poetry, if you are finally wondering how I'm doing:
I'm learning to live without you. Most nights my heart aches. Sometime I think I should have crashed my car the night I was driving alone. But the truth is, I seen the brightest of days with you. And with a little patients, I'll see bright days again. When it comes down to it, I will be okay. I will be more than okay. With or without you.

You need to understand that no matter how beautifully the poem is written, no matter how relatable those black and white letters are; every word I've ever put on paper has been a product of mental illness. I don't care how deep it sinks into your chest, how long it resonates on your brain or how amazing it is that I have somehow put every unspoken thought you've ever had into 6 small words. Not once have I created a poem while thinking, "This one will surely paint a glorified picture of self harm, drug addictions, rehab visits, repeated rapes, abusive boyfriends and five years of therapy into the readers mind." Never would I write with such intention and never should my words be read for such a purpose. If you are searching for poems with glitter masking the truth, you have come to the wrong place. So if you have the guts to read my poetry, then I dare you to have the guts to read with the same pain it was written with. I refuse to write with raw, bold, and honest words only to wrap a pink ribbon over the bloodshed just to earn the title "tragically beautiful." The words I spill out come from a dark world. Admire them in purest form, ugly and appalling to the eyes.  Why would you want to romanticize the filth that I pour from my mentally ill mind?

She changes her mind like the weather.
One moment shes a flower blooming in May but with the flip of a switch
shes a cold January blizzard.

Its already December.
Shes disappointed with the lack of snow this year,
as her hearts been stuck in a dull winter.
With wide blue eyes full of fear
she's waiting for death to kiss her.
Spring flowers have been long dead,
Now shes eager for the return of death.
Maybe he took the wrong turn?
He seems to be running late.
For now she's making snow angels out of wilted petals,
patiently awaiting her fate.

I'm worth something, I just don't know what. I matter to somebody, I just don't know who. I am alive for a reason, I just don't know why. I can beat this depression, I just don't know how. I will see brighter days, I just don't know when.

No roof to find shelter under, no umbrella to keep dry, no gentle arms to fall into; I learned at an early age to dance during tornados, to laugh in pouring rain with lighting nearly striking my feet, and to find beauty in bruises from being stranded in hail storms. The weather was always bad, but I embraced it. Maybe it's begun to pay off, because for the first time in forever

I think I see the sun.

He didn't grow angel wings and go to heaven. He put on an astronaut helmet and found peace in the stars. A tiny soul floating through the galaxies, just waiting for mommy to join him. His dreams were to big for this planet. Curiosity, love, adventure, and fearlessness. He was soaked in those traits as he grew in my womb. The unknown was calling and I don't blame him for answering. He was concieved by two souls who desperatly wanted more than life can offer. We created something too beautiful for human form. All I can do is hope that the night sky is full of kindness. It brings peace to know he left this earth knowing nothing of pain. An artist like his mother, I know my son is painting constelations in the sky and sprinkling stardust over my head. One day I'll have the guts to put on a helmet of my own, and he can show me the universe through his eyes, resting in my arms for eternity.

Im never good enough unless I let people **** me.
I thought when I met my boyfriend he would actually respect me.
But If I don't get naked he just neglects me, why do I need to have *** for him to love me?

He says the drugs turn him on,
but he can't stay hard enough to get me off. Give him some lotion and ****,
all interest in me is lost,
now hes anything but soft.

Does this mean I'm gross?
Should I shave better or wear less clothes? Im over reacting, I know.
******* I hate all drugs,
I can't stand the lows.
Do I just let him touch me?
I can't spit out the word no.
My body belongs to him, but I'm sick of going with the flow.
I need to make it clear I have a voice of my own.
Falling in love with him gave me a rare sense of hope.
I thought I would finally have some control,
then I realizef I'm still a piece of meat,
an eager to please ***.

I felt his love was pure and I wanted it all to myself.
I thought dating a man who preaches how much he cares meant it mattered what I felt.

I got away from the party rapes and bottles of *****.
I thought a relationship meant i would finally get to choose.
Why am i still being used?
Maybe he'd understand after stepping in my soulless shoes.
I can never win, the outcome is inevitable, I was born to lose.

So do I lay down and pretend I want the ***,
or watch him choose **** when I refuse to say yes.
Would he notice me if I had implants in my *******?
Maybe I need to be a tan blonde with no heart in my chest?
We all know those women can **** the best,
I can't compare so I just lay down to rest.

And I don't mean going to bed,
I mean 6 feet under with a grave stone at my head.
Even from the casket all I can smell is ****,
the reason for his shiny upper lip covered in sweat.
I asked him to wait on taking a hit,
but he smoked it and failed my little test. It's obvious its the drugs he loves best.

I needed to see if what I felt could over power his want for drugs.
Of course he didn't choose me, but his drugs left pain in my lungs.
I didn't know I would fall apart so young. It's looking like all of my abusers have won.

I should of just put out because now he wants to sleep on the couch.
I should have let him *** in my mouth, because now he's scraping a pipe and I'm just trash waiting to be thrown out.

But that's just how I feel on the regular,
so used to being alone, even with him across the room,
this feelings so familiar.
I promised another abusive relationship would never happen again
but his actions are scary similar.

I know he won't ***** me over,
but I'm a girl who let a drug user abuse her. A girl beaten in the street, wishing he would shoot her. Forced to be a freak in the sheets, a girl who said yes even when it bruised her.

Is it happening again?
Or am I just selfish for not pleasing my man?
Now I'm over thinking
Deep down I know his love is an ocean surounding my land.
My protector, drowning out all of the bad.
After all, he even held me while I screamed with a blade in each hand.
I try to remind myself this but my brain calls *******.
My mind is built in a shape that reality doesn't fit.
So when he says I'm his baby I can only hope he means it.
Fearing he will think I'm not worth it, I work so hard to stay atttactive.
Going days without food, I eat like a ******* rabbit.
I'm dizzy and might lose consciousness,
my sleep pattern is ******* eratic.
This migraine has my brain mushy and muffled like tv static.

This pain in my skull is dragging me to sleep,
my body aches, from my soul to my feet.
I should have opened my legs and tried not to shake.

I denied him what he wanted,
thinking my man would love me fully clothed.
I can't help but wonder,
is it wrong to keep my legs closed? 
I dont ******* know.

Being in love has left me on the floor cold and shaking,
other men see what they want and take it. Never been given an option,
so used to my body being taken.
He made a promise that he's different, but what if saying no is what'd break it?
I thought a relationship would give me more choices.
Yes or no,
a question I was never asked by my dozens of rapists.

It all feels like a repeat playlist,
I know he loves me and I'm trying to embrace it.
But even completely clothed,
I'm feeling helpless and naked.

I write poetry and my hands shake a lot. I'm the product of a 15 year old drug addict and a 20 sum year old college drop out. I was born into a family who normalized ****. Now I'm an 18 year old coming to terms with childhood abuse and abandonment fear. Recently diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, something I'm not sure I'll ever over come.
So this is me. A high school drop out, unemployed, battling all forms of addiction, at war with too many demons.


Craving an up.

I can literally feel the sadness in my bones.
My heart ******* aches and I'm losing control.
This **** has been killing me so it's time to let go.
Sit back and listen because this story is mine,
Its utter madness but now you'll know why I never trust guys.
I don't think God is real, never have, never will.
They say he loves all his children but don't you see how he breaks them?
I'm not just some atheist because I know this for sure.
Not once has God answered, he's just sent the devil to my door.
You would think the devil isn't human,
But he's as real as me and you.
He doesn't have horns but his favorite colors are black and blue.
Monsters don't hide under beds,
They walk into your room and restrain you under covers.
He pulls back the blanket and I'm staring into the eyes of my own brother.
God smiles, not cries,
As the devil he created shoves the wrong
Definition of love between my thighs.
I can't even call him a fallen angel
Because he never even made it to heaven.
Although he probably felt like it while he ***** me when I was 11.
Naked and scared, I prayed to god but he wasn't there.
I asked God why he dammed me to hell
I never got an answer but maybe I'm the angel that fell.
God said **** it, so I did too.
Years later, Impulsive desicions made me look like a fool.
These demons play hard and knock me to the floor.
But every night I crawled back fiending for more.
I started locking my door because
His empty eyes were burning through my skin.
All "God" has taught me is good hearts never win.
He creates bad men because he's obsessed with sin.
He sends lost souls to my door because
I'm so empty and desperate I let them in.
God did teach me one lesson back when I was 11.
"Close your eyes and think of a song,
you have no reason to feel so wronged,
Stop fighting the devil, accept the ****.
When someone actually wants you,  learn to appreciate."
The words stuck in my head for 7 years
Now I've got a new demon who whispers in my ear.
Drink a bottle, pop a pill, smoke ****, make yourself bleed.
"As long as you have drugs it's all you'll ever need"
Day after day, fighting to get clean
But the devils always watching and never lets go
I've never met a fallen angel so mean and so cold.
We fear his grasp but no ones ever prayed for his soul.
Why not pray for the one who needs it the most?
Because God gives up on all lost souls.
He did it to me, everybody knows.
He'll put you in battle, you'll die for sure.
There's gun shots in my head, so gimme some pills to fight this war.
Make the pain numb, learn to **** like a *****.
It seems like an endless battle but that's what the drugs are for.
So my advice to you is to never open that door
It's not worth it, I'm sure.
So when you hear a knock, go hide in your room.
God only sends men to break and bruise.
It's all about power and dope,
A ****** ******* nose.
They only hit you where the marks don't show.
In 97' God stopped caring about others,
So if you open that door
you might be staring into the eyes of your own brother.

And take it from me,
You'll never recover.

My phone buzzes with a text
His eyes dart over, blood shot red.
The angers coming out, palms start to sweat.
I always begged him not to do ****.
"Who the ******* textin! Let me ****** read!"
This is how it starts, manipulating my heart,
And beating till I bleed.
I say "***** you don't even own me.
You barely even know me!
Your a ****** fiend and a ****** who claims to only smoke ****,
but I know youll never get clean.
Youre an unemployed mommy's boy at the age of 23.
Stop slapping me around and be the **** you claim to be.
If your so ******* then why don't you **** me?"
Suddenly I've got a rope around my neck being dragged across the floor.
His eyes go black as he dishes out more.
Now I'm in the middle of the street,
how the **** did I get here? 
I never moved my own feet.
He tackled me to the pavement and I started to scream.
There's a man on the sidewalk ignoring my pleas.
The cops showed up but I denied all these things.
He's sitting in jail but I'll never press charges.
He's got a couple felonies and they found needles in his apartment.
I know he's dangerous but deep down he's sweet.
He only hit me a little, and never put me towards death.
Everyone hates woman that stick up for their beating so I'll lay it to rest.
Maybe my minds just distorted from trying to save a monster on ****.

I called him daddy in bed,
but I didn't think he would leave me
the same way my father did.
Now I'm lying here
holding myself at 3 AM
because God knows
neither of them will do it.

6 months ago I ******* lost my mind
alone on my bathroom floor,
covered in blood.
Today I would be 9 months pregnant
and the man I made that baby with
is just as gone as my sanity.
Did everyone ******* forget?
Why do we avoid that topic?
Why can’t anyone look me in the ******* eyes anymore?
Why didn’t I ever hear “I’m sorry for your loss”?
Why THE **** didn’t i get condolences?
Because nobody gives a **** when you lose a wanted pregnancy,
that's why.
No one gives a **** when your alone on the bathroom floor covered in blood and in so much pain you *****.
It went from "congratulations, I'm so excited for you!"
to "Well, at least you lost it before it was, like, human??"
Would people still say that if I had had an abortion?
No, I would be called a monster.
But since I wanted to keep the baby,
I'm just being to emotional over the loss of something that
"was barely even there"
How ****** up is that?

Well that pool of blood was a part of me,
and just as human as my mind makes it to be.

..

Give him everything you are.
Strip yourself to bare skin with chills on your spine.
Wishbones and collar bones,
your ribs protruding through your shirt.
He doesn't like fat girls.
So love begins on your knees in a bathroom stall
10 minutes after lunch.
Stomach acid burns your esophagus.
"I wonder if his **** going down will hurt as bad as ***** coming up?"
Be skinny.
Be everything he dreams.
Quiet, soft, subtle, pretty and confused.
Be this, that, and everything in between.
Be willing.
Be recyclable.
Be trash.
Broken glass in your retinas,
don't look him in the eye.
Let him have every part of you,
but hold back the feelings.
Be emotionless.
Be empty.
Now hope to god its enough for him to stay.
Ignore every part of you screaming
"he doesn't love you".
Unbutton your pants, pull off your *******
and reply,
"But I can make him."

I was going to write him a poem
but the only word I could think of was
'stay'


And that's all I wrote.

"I think you're beautiful. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

No.
Not when you use the same word to describe every other dark haired, light skinned woman.
Not when you look at me and say
"Of course I think other girls are prettier than you."


"But I still think you're beautiful."
Stop.

"So my words are just empty to you?"

*Of course.

I want to smash my head through a ******* wall. Anything to make these thoughts stop.
I want to be held and have my forehead kissed, with the words “You are loved” whispered in my ear.
I want hands on chest, hands on neck. I want my neck to turn blue and my heart to stop. Then to start again with a kiss.
I want it all and I want nothing. My mind is so fast and so slow at the same time. Is this why the words come out in random orders?
Is this what it feels like to die??? /??? ??

I’ve always ****** at video games
and its no surprise you always beat me
I press the wrong buttons and my hands always shake
but that's okay because you press my buttons
and always keep me awake
I’ll be crabby every morning from lack of sleep
until I open your texts and begin to read
the messages saying you love me

I feel my eyes turn from grey to blue
every time I look at you
but when you leave at the end of the day
my eyes turn an even darker shade of grey
and maybe that's why I always get headaches.
I know we’ve kissed a thousand times
Yet you’ve never noticed how I open my eyes.
I like watching your lashes flutter
as you glue your lips to mine.
I wonder what you’re thinking?
What goes through your mind?

We may never see eye to eye
but maybe thats because I have to stand on my bed
just to be the same height
How is the view up there?
Is the weather really all that different?
Do I really have a bald spot in my hair?
That's whats the kids at school said.

So, what if I’m not as strong as you think at all,
and what if I’m not as gentle or kind as you say?
Well you certainly make me feel ten feet tall
and always make the bad thoughts go away.
“What if” doesn’t mean a thing to me,
not when my head is on your chest and
I can hear your heart beat.
But maybe that's just the sound of the TV
because we always watch cartoons at night.
Shrek is my favorite fairy tale
because love isn’t perfect
and there is no such thing as “right”
It reminds me of you
and how even though I’m not a princess
you still call me beautiful.
Now, I don’t know how to end a poem
that doesn’t involve tears being shed
But I guess that doesn’t matter
since this poem will never end.

I love you
I love you
I love you
But what does that even mean?

Chew me up,
spit me out.
Stick me under the restaurant table.
Let someone else's hand graze over my
oozing body
and watch the disgust in their face.
Eyes squinting,
nose wrinkling,
hand jerking away.
Watch them leave me there,
stuck in the same place you left me.
Call it love.

Lurk in the shadows,
crawl into my room at night.
Take off my shirt,
bite my neck and break my heart.
**** me side ways,
hold my mouth shut.
Put your clothes back on,
say I'm a liar,
walk out the door and
never say another word.
Call it love.

Text me at 2 AM on a summer night.
Meet me in the graveyard
behind the statue of Jesus.
Kiss me under the stars.
Go home when your dad realizes
the car is gone.
Drive away,
**** yourself 4 months later
and become just another tomb stone.
Call it love.

I'm just an angry poet with really weak eyebrows, a bad sense of humor, and even worse poems.

I want a bouquet of the prettiest flower you can find with a hand written poem wrapped around a stem. We can go to the park and you can bring me my favorite snacks and watch the clouds float through the sky as we point out which ones look like a boat or a car. Then let’s climb a tree until I climb so high I get scared and you have to help me down. Let’s play in the snow even though it’s all melting and lets get soaking wet in the slush. Lets jump in puddles and let the water soak into our shoes. Kiss me and then run fast as you can in the other direction so I have to chase you. Lets race down the road in our wet clothes and shivering skin. When we get too cold we will go home and change. Tell me how beautiful I look as I strip off my damp shirt and unbutton my jeans. Lay me on the bed and make love to me as you look in my eyes. *** on my tummy and laugh with me while I squirm as it drips into my belly button. Then help me get dressed again and surprise me with dinner. Walk me to the car and open the door for me. Take me on a date to Olive Garden. Play sappy love songs that remind you of me on our way. When we get to the restaurant, make sure you ask for a booth because you know how much I hate tables. Buy me noodles and shrimp and rub your feet on mine underneath the table. Steal bites of my dinner and I’ll steal bites of yours. I'll drink all my Dr. pepper right away so you'll let me drink all your water. Hold my hand when we leave and on our way home pull the car over. Let’s look at the sky and talk about aliens and how we don’t belong on this planet. Lets talk about where we really came from. Tell me what star is the brightest and show me the constellations. Let’s talk about this aching humanity and how desperately we want to fix it but don’t have any idea how. We'll yell at the planets and ask them to take us back. Then take me home and watch me take off my make up. Tell me how great I look with my hair tied back and natural skin. Lay on the couch and I will sit on your lap while you tell me stories of our future as cartoons play on the tv in the background. Listen to me giggle at spongebob while you braid my hair. Kiss my neck and tell me I'm the only princess you will ever need and someday I will be your queen. Tell me you want to marry me and reassure me that I’m not as worthless as I think I am. Tell me I didn’t deserve all this pain then listen to me and let me cry. Support me and cry with me. Wipe my tears and say you love me. Tuck me into bed and hold me until I fall asleep. When I wake up in the morning I want to smell your morning breath and kiss you for 30 minutes straight.
Don’t just say you love me. Do something about it.

We always looked so happy but I’m starting to realize we never were. Maybe we were lonely and that’s why we said our “i love you”s . Maybe all the words were empty because I know for sure the promises were. This pain can’t be explained. When you love someone so much, it makes you vulnerable. I gave him everything I had. Every hope, every pain, I showed him my entire past, and I welcomed him into my entire future. I gave him so much.. but he gave me just enough to get by. The stupid part is, I still love him more than life. My heart ******* aches with his absence and it will only get worse with time. We could fix this. We could work together and make this better but he isn’t ready. He isn’t ready for anything. Everything I do is with good intentions for him, but where does that leave me? So so so utterly devoted to a man who won’t take a simple risk to save our relationship. He says he doesn’t know who he is and he is still figuring it out, but he knows one thing for sure. He is certain he wants to be with me. Yet how in the **** should I believe that? He changes his mind like the weather. One minute he loves spring and the next he wants to be frozen to the winter floor. But does he realize that whatever he chooses, I will be there too? If he wants flowers and sunshine then that is where we will go. If he wants to freeze in the snow, well then I guess I will be just as cold. He needs his privacy and time to himself. He needs structure and to have rules to follow. He says he want a forever, but he puts no effort into creating one. I want to go with him, no matter where it may be. But it seems to me he would much rather leave on his own. Why can’t he think of me for once. Why does he think it is okay to leave me in this burning hell without him. How is this called love. How dare we smile and pretend things are okay when in reality I can’t even breath. I have given this man so much of my heart and I have look past every odd quirk he has, yet he can’t give me what is best for us both. This relationship was all I had left. These pictures were my favorite. But its all down the drain now. He was my everything, my future. But now all I see in my future is a bottle of clonazepam and a nice warm bath, praying my body liquidizes enough to flow down the drain with all these emotions.

Do you even understand what "broken" means?
Do you even know how "broken" feels?
You have your pains and I have mine,
but these things that cause our heart aches are so different.
This isn't the "I might have been molested when I was really young but I don't remember" kind of pain. This is the "he came into my room at night and I still remember everything" kind of heart break.
And I am not putting your pains down and saying they are any less than mine, but how can you understand this feeling of heaviness on my chest when your lungs are always full of air? Maybe your lungs are stronger than mine, or maybe mine are just a little more burnt. But what I'm saying is, parts of me are broken that I never even thought could break.

I think I've begun to sleep more than I breathe, and cry more than I speak. The nightmares are better than reality and the tears taste better than my bitter words. It’s like I keep searching for some form of normality, some type of structure. But I so desperately need to understand what normal is and how the **** to do it. I need to understand what structure feels like because Jesus Christ, I’m too unstable to stand up straight. I was born with sadness in my veins and these feelings have been rushing through my bloodstream since 2008. From cigarettes to blow jobs, my mouth is full. But when it comes to telling how I feel, I choke on ashes and ***** and my words won't come out. Now I'm coughing up emotions and trying my hardest not to suffocate. My mother gives me a tissue and says this is my fathers fault. "You get the sadness from him." Well maybe he's the reason I feel so lost, because apparently nobody knows where the **** he is.

In 40 years I want
to be able to say
that I still
love the same boy
I wrote poetry for
when I was 17.

Wrap your arms around me,
lets mold ourselves like clay.
Two separate pieces,
Both an off shade of grey.

Wrap your heart around me,
Let's paint ourselves like trees.
You are yellow; I am blue,
But together we make green.

Wrap your soul around me,
Lets write ourselves a poem.
I lose myself in words
Yet you always bring me home.

Tell me that not every guy will
leave black tar in my chest,
Assure me that not every guy
is pollution to my soul.
Promise me that I won't be
coughing up their ashes forever.

So go ahead,
fill me with too many "I love you"s.
Inflate my lungs until they want to burst.
Teach me what it's like
to inhale something that won't hurt.

Show me what it's like to have clean air in my lungs.
*Let me breath you.

I am burning from the inside out
And although everyone can *******
See the smoke
Seeping from every pour in my body,
They just watch because
Maybe I'll put myself out?
But how is one person supposed to stop
An entire world from being engulfed in flames?

I keep asking myself,
What is left for me here?

I whisper,
I don't know
I don't know
I don't know
*I don't know

I am not a waste of space,
I am the entire solar system.

I want to save the world but first I must save myself.

I love Christmas,
but I hate greed.

And as I get older,
I'ts getting harder
to tell the difference
between the two.

Maybe the reason we spend night after night
staring at a blank paper
is because the words we so desperately need to write,
are words that have not yet been created.

This is not a poem. This is a series of events that has happened in the past months.

Starting with last Summer:
I ****** over 20 people in just 3 months. I was ******* anybody who gave me even a second glance. It was usually random guys on the internet, and one day one of those guys held me down in my own bed and choked me. But that didn't scare me off from doing it again. Every day I had a new person in my bed, and it felt so normal to me considering I have already slept with over 60 guys and I'm only 17. But towards august I started to want a relationship. I found a guy I liked named Brandon and I tried everything to make him like me, but soon as we had ***, he never talked to me again.
At the end of September I was finally getting a little control over myself when I met a guy named Erik. He was 18 and graduated, more accomplished than half the guys I have been with. We talked for a couple weeks and on October 3rd he asked me to be his girlfriend. I laughed so hard and was even a little angry. Why the **** would he want to date me? He knew about my tendency to self harm and he knew I was unstable. He said it was cute when I laughed, and when I finally understood that he was serious, I said yes. That night after he left, I cried for hours. I couldn't help it. All I could think was I did not deserve a nice boy like him. As the days went by, things were great. I wasn't cutting and I had somewhat stable moods. But then bad things started happening again.

In the middle of October, Brandon died in a car crash. The last time I saw him was the day he ****** me. It was raining when he drove me home and I told him to slow down, but he looked at me and said he is the safest driver I could ever meet. But I guess he was wrong because now he is dead and his car is in pieces.

When Brandon died, I felt so ******* guilty. I found out about his death like literally 5 minutes after I finished having *** with Erik. I was starting to get bad in my mind again but I didn't tell anyone.

About a week later, my ******* cat died.

Erik and I had started to argue a lot more by then and on my birthday, October 21, he gave me mono. What a ******* way to celebrate my birthday right. I was throwing up for weeks and unable to eat. This went on until early November when we got some even more ****** up news.
I was pregnant.
They said I would have been 3 or 4 months and based on the dates, the baby probably wasn't Erik's. We fought every single day. He got kicked out of the Navy and suddenly it was all my fault. He said I was selfish for keeping it. I was so excited to have the baby and be a mother, to grow the **** up and move on with my life. The second week of this month I announced that I was pregnant. And yet again, more bad things happened.
The day after I told people, I started bleeding really ******* bad. It hurt more than anything I have ever experienced. I went to the ER and they couldn't give me any direct answers, so I waited 3 days until I went to my OB/GYN. Erik and I sat in the doctors office waiting to be treated, when soon as the doctor walked in he told me I had a miscarriage. I held it together and fought back tears until we started to leave the building. I was crying so ******* hard I couldn't breath. I feel like a part of me has been taken away and I can never get that back. I feel incredibly betrayed by my own body. My heart shattered as Erik had no emotions towards the situation. All he would say is "I'm here for you." or "You can get through this." After the miscarriage, he got put back into the Navy. By the end of the day I started to realize, I am the only one who can feel the pain of this loss, and I am going to be in this constant battle with nobody but myself.
People started to think I lied about the pregnancy because I lost the baby a day after I announced it.

I was a ******* mess for all of last week. I didn't go to school or even get out of bed. I only went to school last Friday, finally starting to feel a bit better, excited to see my best and only friend. But as you probably guessed, that didn't go well as usual.

My best friend got kicked out of school and sent to the alternative one in another town. She was all I had, she was my support system. I was upset about her leaving me and it hurt pretty bad. But I made it through the day and didn't have a complete break down.

The next day, 12/13/14 , was Erik's birthday. We went to Minnesota for shopping and it was actually an overall ok day. When we got back home I checked my Facebook and my entire body froze.

I had known a guy named Ben for about a year, he was the sweetest guy I have ever met. Last winter we were both lonely and desperate to fill some type of void within ourselves. So I guess we thought if we ****** all the time then we might start to feel a little less numb. As the seasons changed and summer approached, we realized that having *** in a cemetery parking lot was far more draining that fulfilling. Ben was the kind of guy who would do anything for anyone. He has been there for me whenever I needed him, no matter the time of day. I just really wish we had stayed friends...

Because the first thing on my Facebook news feed was the announcement of his death. Ben, the guy with a heart of gold, committed suicide. I have cried every night this week. He had told me he was suicidal a few months back, I tried to help but he shut me out and we never saw each other again. I didn't go to the funeral and I regret it more than anything. I should have said good bye. I should have never stopped talking to him.

So far this week I have held it together pretty well. Until today at least. While sitting in class I got a message from my best friend. She told me she wants to die. In august she had tried to **** herself and nearly succeeded. That message just ripped me to shreds.




Everyone is giving up, and there isn't a **** thing I can do to save them.

Everything around me is falling apart,
and I am trying my best to hold it together,
but I only have two hands.

We were both in such a dark place,
looking to feel anything.
And while you were looking,
I guess you found me.
We tried to **** happiness into each other,
**** the sadness away.
But no matter how many nights of
hot moans and heaving breathing on my neck,
nothing changed how we felt.
I found my way out of that hell,
but you buried yourself in it long ago,
but today your body joined you.
And I know I can work magics but
oh my gosh Ben,
not even I can **** the life into you now.

Every night,
we were skin on skin,
soul on soul,
pain on pain.
I only knew him through heavy breaths
and vulnerable ***,
but I still let him slip away.
It hurts to say,
you can know someone so intimately,
from head to toe,
yet be blind to the emotions behind
every kiss.

But I should have saw his downfall,
because happy people don't
show up drunk at 3 AM,
begging to be touched,
begging to feel alive.

Dear Baby,

Your daddy doesn't want you,
and I am deeply sorry for how weak of a father you have.
I'm sorry he is so angry,
so scared,
so unwilling.
I'm sorry he won't love you,
but Baby,
he doesn't love me either.

I'm not even sure if I love me anymore.
*You're all I have, please be strong.

I keep wondering what I did to deserve this,
but I didn’t do anything.
Nobody deserves things.
We just take what were given and try to make the best of it.
So maybe I have been a ****** person sometimes
or maybe I pushed away to many people who wanted to care,
but none of that matters.
Life is full of unfortunate events,

*And maybe that just has nothing to do with me.

Everywhere I look, there's an emptiness
where you’re supposed to be.
I told the doctors how I see nothing in everything,
so they prescribed pills to help me see.

My room is always so cold
but your breath was so hot.
I told the doctors I still feel it on my neck
so they gave me more pills to make it stop.

I took the pills for years
but they haven’t helped at all
So I stopped the prescriptions
and started my downward fall.

The doctors will never fully understand
that I will always look for you everywhere I go.
Antidepressants and mood stabilizers are making my mind a
bomb, ready to blow.

When you told me you loved me
I thought that meant every part.
But when I told you I was pregnant
you started choosing which parts deserved
to be loved
and which parts did not.

My wrists still hurt from
the day you grabbed my arm
and my cuts opened up
underneath my sleeve.
I pulled away
but I didn't mention the pain
because how do you tell someone
who has never shed a drop of blood in
their life,
that every part of you is bleeding.

I would love you if I could,
but I swear to god
his hands still glide over
my body in the night.
And his breath still
warms my neck when I'm alone.
I still feel his eyes watching me as
I shower.
I still hear him crying saying he's sorry.
But most of all
I still hear myself telling him its okay.

I love you more than anything in this world
but how am I supposed to show it when
every day it feels like I'm being ***** all over again.

I don't understand the word ‘love’ because
when I was 13 years old I was forced to believe in it as my brother shoved the wrong definition between my thighs.

My wrists still burn from 7th grade
when the entire school laughed at me
for having *** with my brother.
But they didn't know how ******* sick it really was
and they didn't know I didn't want it.
So I ran out of class and sat on the bathroom floor,
carving my skin with my favorite earrings
that started off silver but slowly turned red.
I told you I don't wear earrings anymore.

My throat still hurts from the time I tried to drink drain cleaner
but it was so bitter i spit it all out and it ran down my chin.
So I slept all day and all night
because I cried so hard I couldn't keep my eyes open.
I wonder if that's what you taste on my lips,
Salty tears and bitter chemicals.
Is that why we never kiss?

My neck is still bruised from when I was 11 years old
and hung a jump rope from the ceiling in my basement
and tied it in a knot around my neck.
But soon as I jumped off the chair I ******* fell to the floor
with nothing but a rope burn beneath my chin.
It wasn't the feeling I wanted and I cried so long and violently,
I thought my head would explode.
Does it make sense that I don’t like heights?
Maybe that's why I'm afraid of bridges.

My lungs are still full of water from 2011
when I tried to drown myself in the bathtub.
But the water wasn't very deep and it was hard to stay under.
I could feel myself getting dizzy as my head popped back to surface.
So I stood up,
shampoo still in my hair,
and I washed everything down the drain besides my self.
When I told you I don't know how to swim,
I actually meant I'm too afraid to learn.

My ******* still hurt from the boy who thought getting me drunk would make me take my clothes off.
And I hate to say it but it ******* worked.
But what he didn't realize is that at 15 years old,
I would have gotten naked for him anyways.
I would have touched him even if
I wasn't influenced to pour
shots down my throat and coke up my nose.
I didn't have a chance to say yes or no.
I just wanted to have fun and try to forget everything I was wanting
to **** myself for.
But I ended up with a heartless human being on top of me calling me a *****
while I lie motionless about to *****.
When I got home,
my chest was black and blue but I didn't cry this time
because by then I was too ******* numb to care about anything.
I told you I don't like to drink.
I told you my body aches.

My hands are still sore from when I got sent to rehab and met a boy who liked it when I touched him.
He only came out of his room when the nurses helped him walk.
His face was so white you could almost see through him and he only spoke when he wanted to feel me.
Every night at dinner I would put my hands down his pants underneath the table,
until he stopped eating dinner with us.
He was addicted to something bad and he just kind of stopped waking up.
I got sent home but I don't think he ever left.
I waited months for that boy to call.
But he never did.
Every one disappeared
*And now I'm doing the same to you.

If people were art,

You would be a page from a child's coloring book
hanging on the refrigerator.
Different colors filling the page.
An explosion of
red, orange, yellow,
green, purple and blue.
Everything leaking out of the lines you were meant
to contain yourself in.
A green sun and yellow grass,
none of it makes much sense.
And that is exactly what makes you
worth looking at.

But if people were art,

I would be a watercolor that got too wet,
and now the paper is wrinkled
and the picture distorted.
The paint bleeding into itself,
as the paper starts to tear.

He gave me an entire solar system
when all I asked for was a star.

All he gave me was a star
when I needed an entire solar system.

You try so hard to forget the look
your mother gave you
the day she found out
your brother touched you
Try to paint pretty pictures
and forget that frown on her face
until you realize her tears aren’t just in the back of your head
they are burned into your ******* mind.