Everybody says DONT YOU CRY....
But I hurt so bad
I need to cry
pain cant hide
pain cant heal
needs to EXPLODE
massive EXPLOSION means CRY!

my tears are brimming in my eyes..
Expect a Heavy downpour now
the tiny drops is waiting for no signal
BUT aren't you too big girl to cry?
That was what they said yesterday
Thats what they are saying again now

Kleenex where are you?
Wipe away the tears with my sleeve instead
Too shy to let them see
Tears of a big girl..
They say big girls dont cry...

Let me choose to cry in silent
In silent I cry...
see no tears , no tears

Too embarrass I am a big girl now
So I hide my tears within..
Discreetly, emotionally
keep reminding my self
I am too big girl to cry...

It's not yet night for her to sink
But she closed herself and sank
Like eyes that are too tired to blink
And gazing upon the muddy river bank,
Suddenly, there were ripples in the water
As she sinks down into the river bed
But there was not a single call from her
As if she let herself be led
By water currents she knew so well

Have you forgotten how to float?
Or are there no souls around to tell,
About silent screams with a sore throat?
Did your roots pull from the mud?
And the current strong enough to break it?
It's a tragedy of the tiny pink bud,
who once sat on the murky water of two feet,
Being swallowed whole into the water
and not once experiencing a genuine woo

Oh, lovely water flower,

....Did you regret it too?

What has life made of me?
Where has life taken me?

This body has never been mine, nor will this mind ever be.

There is a terrific sadness in every time
I look in the mirror and pretend to smile.

Dear Adam,
I have missed the spring and I am coming to you soon
The eyes that flicker, the stories behind the eyelids
The heart that ***** in the air
Like a flightless bird that dreams to fly.
Make sure you open up those heavy arms of yours
Make of my thin body your prisoner
Forever
See me for the second time,
Look at me as if it was the first time.

Adam, the ground has never been mine to walk upon
This Earth is selfish, she wants us all
But I am weary, just like you.
Everywhere I look, I find wrinkles
Old objects full of dust
Young people full of lust
Golden hearts full of rust.

Adam, I have been reeking of desolation
Since the day I died
Right there on grass that has never been greener
Under a sun that has never shone brighter
Since I died
Of longing
I have been reeking of desperation
If it wasn't for the books you left me,
If it wasn't for this letter today
If it wasn't for the hope of finding you again
I would have long turned into a portrait
Copied off of a portrait of a portrait
Of a portrait someone painted off the back of their mind
Intelligible and faint.

Adam, the lines on my palms are fading
Drip by drip
The water in me is adding up
And drowning what life has left of me
Poor little soul, good for nothing but the sadness

Adam, I wish I was sad like you
But I am not sad
I am bored,
Like a writer that never learned to write
A painter without paints
A mermaid on land
I am bored like the zoo.

I am coming to you soon.
But I know you're not there.

Goodbye summer and everything that's as clear
I will miss you my dear.


-- Watercolour

She shouted from the roof tops
Her love for him
And how it would never stop

He simply stared at her
In utter shock
nobody could ever love me
Or so he thought...

She smiled with her arms spread apart
Waiting for a response

He stood there silently
Unable to move but wanting to walk
Walk away from the lies
Cause he'd been hurt too many times

She begged and pleaded
Trying to make him believe
It's the truth she said

But he couldn't respond
Simply turned around to leave
women only hurt me
Was all he could believe
Too much pain and abuse
For those lies to become the truth

She sunk inside herself
Filled with pain and so many tears
After years of trying
She finally faced her fears
Only to be hit with rejection
Imperfections of love
Shown at there finest
She couldn't stand her thoughts...

He slowed his walk
Thought about the past
Suddenly came to realize
This life is your last
And there on that roof top
He may have finally found some hope
So he stopped his walk
Turned around to accept the truth
Only to find
That she had jumped off...

Do you see her?
There with the hair with side parting.
Do you know how much she have been hurting?

I've been watching her,
Everyday she puts on her makeup and smile,
She's been doing that for a while.
There's something she's hiding,
Those eyes tell something else,
Especially when there's no one else.

I've heard she said sorry once,
Sorry if she's boring them,
She was talking anxiously but stop in middle.
Like somewhere in her mind that being her is just too much.
At the end of each day,
There's something different than when she came,
It's like the whole day she's just struggling to survive.
Being overworked trying to show how she's alive.

Outside the public world,
Her life is not quite alright,
Those circles under her eyes were not overnight,
And those coffees were always the lightest roast ; Burnt not even a slight.


-HIY

At different points in my life, different events changed my life for both better and worse. This is a collection of letters to myself throughout different periods of my adolescence.


    Dear Mia, you are nine years old, and you just lost your grandfather, the only one who truly understood you and all of your quirks, that later on people will call ‘social’ and ‘generalized’ anxiety.
Not only that, but your family moved out of your childhood home just months after. I know things are really confusing and painful right now, and that you can’t hide in your mom’s closet anymore, because this house is different.
You search for new hiding places, trying and failing to find a new sense of security. You will not find this until you are thirteen, so please stop searching so hard.
Losing your grandfather feels like the end of the world, because this is your first loss. Honey, it will not be your last.
You’ll get used to it.


    Dear Mia, you are ten years old, and you have just met your Nana’s ex-husband. He asks you to call him grandpa. This makes you very uncomfortable, because you already had a grandpa, and he’s dead now. You do not have to do anything you do not want to do.
Do not call him grandpa, and do not try to get close with him. All he will do is use you to trick people into believing he is getting better, that he’s clean.
He isn’t, and he will never be. He has **** and ******* stashed in different parts of his house; stop going there.
You are too young to know what they smell like, but you do anyways.


     Dear Mia, you’re finally a teenager! But you assume this makes you a woman now. You are not, and I urge you to not do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable.
Your favorite uncle just shot himself and your mom refuses to ever get out of bed. She never looks you in the eyes anymore. You feel like a part of you has died- whatever you do, do not try to fill that emptiness in your heart with a boy.
Especially not him.
It will not help. If anything, it will make you feel a thousand times worse, and you will never be able to shower enough times to get the feeling of his filthy hand prints off of your body.
I know you want to, but please do not use a blade to try and carve out where he touched.


    Dear Mia, you’re fifteen, and the next couple years will be the most painful. The only thing you will be able to think about is suicide. Your uncle’s and Connor’s, and the attempts of James, Katelyn, and Kait’s.
Maybe even your own?
I am begging you to not steal your dad’s scotch bottle. It tastes disgusting, and it won’t help anything; all it will do will create yet another bad habit.
You didn’t listen to me before, and you started cutting.
Please stop.
It will only make you more paranoid than usual, and the scars that mark your body will only make you even more self conscious (yes, that’s possible, unfortunately).


    Dear Mia, suicide is not the answer. Stop.


    Dear Mia, you finally got some professional help. Depression and anxiety crept into your mind and made themselves a home, but pills will help.
Do not refuse them, it will only make things bad again. Also, this girl has a crush on you. You’ve been friends for a while, and she kissed you last night.
Do not date her.
You are only lonely; you do not actually have romantic feelings for her. She has mental issues that will only mess up your recovery.
She is manipulative and possessive.
Do. Not. Date. Her.


    Dear Mia, you are seventeen. After dating that girl, you felt completely worthless. You are not worthless. It may not seem like it, but you have so many friends that care for you; you will realize this soon, because that girl is about to become nasty and violent, and these friends will help you stand your ground when standing your ground seems impossible. She will move in a few months and although she will try to contact you, you will not answer.
You will be able to breathe again; I promise.


    Dear Mia, it is 7:55 on a Friday morning. You are able to get out of bed again. You are able to do your makeup without crying in the mirror. I’m proud of you. It took you a very long time to be able to do this, I know, but it was worth it. Things still hurt, but friends are there to lessen the pain. Thank them.

I aspired so much to be like her
I, myself, aspired so much to be like a person who didnt even aspire to be herself.
my thoughts were consumed with attempting to be like the girl i saw in front of me
but what were my eyes missing
My eyes, my eyes missed years of self despise, eyes filled with tears unable to cry, for she was too hurt.
My eyes missed the pain that she felt, the drugs she dealt all to gain new perspective and put a little green in the pockets that were almost torn.
i didnt even know who i was yet, but the thought of being her engulfed my every action.
all of my actions attempts to gain satifaction that i was one step closer to being the girl i saw.
and then was the moment i saw through it all.
this humpty dumpty i put so high up on an imaginary pedistol had her final fall.
This girl, was perfect, but in her mind she felt she didnt derserve it,
felt so far away from perfection she didnt know how to show it.
So she hid behind her clothes and her makeup, making everyone fall in love with a version of herself that was a lie.
A lie that left her broken and so unsure of herself and of peoples real emotions, because her real self had left so many turning for the door she didnt know how to portray herself in such a way to make anyone she loved or cared for stay.
Her story is real, her fall was so great that the impact was too much for her fragile broken body to take.
so she didnt take it. she took the easy way out.
she killed herself on the same day she lost herself long ago.
the same day she found that being a revolving door to men and their baggage was the only thing that made her forget for a while.
I hope shes happy where she is and i hope she will smile to know that i aspired to be the real her, not the one she appeared to be.

They say that over time, it dissipates -
it will drain from you, evaporate like smoke.
It will descend upon you, destroy you;
but will soon release you, and fade.

But with time it instead grows stronger,
demanding to be felt.
It knocks on the doors of my soul,
its urgency to be let inside unrelenting and ruthless.

Like an unpredictable storm, it lands and ravages,
leaving just fragments of a heart already rebuilt.
What is gone is the will;
the resiliency dulled, the courage spent.

It's a deep-rooted ****, an unrivaled opponent;
It's a malevolent fire that refuses to be smothered.
The Hurt:
a wound that permeates, and remains.