The doors seem to be open, the room seems to pour out onto the lovely maple floor the woman of the house killed her husband on.
Writing is like drawing, you give so much time only to try to improve what's barely adequate and hardly deserving.
Much like her husbands love and his curly hair, not to mention the tasteless affair.
You can say you quit, you can throw a fit, but spotlights rarely move from the limelight.
Much like the fame driven actress, your morals weren't put into practice and Jesus wasn't there to act tactus.
Pennies weren't on his eyes, even after his demise.
They would have been stolen, had they attracted that bitter, mourning actress.

"It took me a long time to realize that my partners were having *** with me in part because of the way my body looks, not in spite of the way my body looks."

I dream of giving up college and graduate school.
I dream of dropping out.
I dream of writing ferociously.
I dream of typing and scribbling and never ending my sentences
I dream of leaving copies of my speech hidden in different places
I dream of leaving something behind
I dream of living in the woods and letting my brain devour itself

Think of all I would think.

Efficiency doesn't make me happy, rather uncomfortable, I can't take my time and enjoy life because others want me to work at a speed ahead of what i'm comfortable with, for what my body wants, and instead, making me feel dumb or inferior. Everyone feels like that I assume.

no outside
no easy life
"no trouble, babe"
heaven kept you this way
your bones are brittle
your blood up and down
your hair thinning badly
and your smile falling to a frown
I'll wait for our reunion
a kiss upon your mouth
tell me that you're certain
tell me that you'll be around

Eleanor Jun 29 - Eleanor Aug 20
Residential Eating Disorder hospital,
No outside love[rs],
Mere minutes in the garden with the tall, tall fence,
Reminding me of a book of fairies, read once,
And not 14 years, could create an easy life for her,
Words, water-like, floated awkwardly, speaking "Oh this disorder? It's not hurting.",
Heaven made you this way- I cannot believe in religion anymore, it sends my mind murderously bare,
Your hair thinning quite badly,
Your blood beats up and down,
Your bones, brittle,
And your smile drowning in a frown,
I'll wait for our reunion,
A kiss upon your mouth,
Tell me that you're certain.
Tell me that you'll still be around.

\

Past events which fractured minds have been instructed to follow through upon, the graces and derelicts, seasons past, adventures of then- tell me which person possesses what beauty. The sin or length of faith, the feelings of before or the moment after, what is lust if it is explained? What day do cheekbones rescind their style and collect age? Who is to find something new in a place forgotten? What dance do we use with our movements so quick? There are misplaced footsteps strewn from one destination to the next. Pray we might to find a sweet, mighty place to rest.

Elizabeth Fisher

At what point
Do i cease to exist
Is it within my own control
If i take myself away
If i waste until my departure
It is better or worse
Does it matter in the end
Does it really matter at all

Is it true
Are they all lying and lemmings
Is it helpful
It must be
If they exist like that
and I like this

I’ve been let down
I’ve been pushed around
And i've learned to stand taller than before
And i've learned to **** in
To envelope everything inside me
Collect it
Bury and dispose

At what point do I feel a release
Of any kind


ef

Amy
The name rarely suits you
The voice merely chooses you
The body continues to move you
The choices begin to confuse you
The spectrum starts to lose you
Your gender seems to remove you

And who am I to love you?

How much can one lose at the attainment of another's hand? What faces do we see? Within the mirror, sincerity. Beyond, a blind mask. Promises of sacred words and worships, falling short is our resort. Speak free, speak wildly, but please obey once more. A gate, a window, a match drawn across the floor. For there is nothing here for you, perhaps there is nothing at all. Think before you act. If you must act, do so swiftly. In all things are innocent fragments. You are a face of this world. Your bed is still warm.

me/Elizabeth Fisher

im sad im sad im sad im sad im sad
that's really the only thing i am
just heartbrokenly sad
i need to get over you
im mad im not content
im mad about so much i could cry
so i do and i did and i have and i will
i'll do this all of this again
for you

The bruise on my knee formed this afternoon
As I slept by the fireplace
I woke and found it there, large and yellowing
Startled, I wondered not why it was there but when it would leave
Why have I attracted so many bruises?
My thighs, knees, shins covered in brown, yellow, green, purple spots, some little and deep, others expansive, without borders
Was the bruise of my flesh worth your pleasure?
Will I ever have a true answer to my questions?
Why don't you miss me like I miss you?

It’s like I’m sitting, watching a love scene in a movie where teens are driving and swimming and laughing and I'm immersed and enjoying it, but then the harsh, violently fluorescent lights behind me turn on and the director yells “Cut!” and my brain is hijacked by a new reality of fake, lonely, nothingness.

Synonyms hurt

I wake up, look in the mirror, and I realize

I encapsulate a beauty, profound
Knowing my gentle grace is an enviable joy
A rebellion fabricated with beauty
I can bring destruction and I can bring new life with the same kiss
Men flock- women stare, compliment, judge, (the lucky ones experience my versatility)
Caring for...is my whole nature, yet limitless is my craving
Tall, athletically slim, curly blonde hair
I dance circles in your mind, as I spend nights in your arms
I will sing, and dance, and ****, while my old soul cries
And you will wonder why you ever fell in love
With a girl like me

Emilee, her memory
The child within her television tv
The last standing immigrant of Chile
And a standstill on the blooming lilies
Flowers don't sprout in the withering hot
And babies are mourned when the cradle drops
Water is set free, along with the husbands
Someone, dear god, allow us to keep this bun in the oven

We should let ourselves let go of things more often
Not only things that don't serve us, not just our worries
I need to practice letting emotions go
Letting people go
Letting grudges and pain go
Let it all escape my body
Escape my being
I need a freedom button
A release switch
An escape route
A quick fix
I'm out of long fixes
I've been in intensive therapy for over two years now
I'm sleepy
And I want my freedom back
I want to release and escape and I need to breathe
Breathe More

I was with you
Your tattoos
Your hands
Your arms
Your veins
Your chest
Your back
Your front
Your hips
Your toes
Your nose
Your smile
Your skills
Your piano
Your basement
Your bedroom
Your dog
Your barging brother
Your dad
Your "friend"
Your preschool
Your house
Your fingers
Your mouth

Edison
Vile
You
Musical
I love how your eyes squint and I hate myself for falling in love with people so quick
So quick
Zip
Zap
I'm back
$80.00 anxiety
And a crowd
Don't leave in five months
Don't leave for France
Please
I know you won't return
So quick
Zip
Zap
You won't come back.

you're new
you're musical
you're cultured
you're talented
You watch movies in Russian
You listen to fleet foxes
You're shy
You danced with me
After your friend asked if I wanted to because you were nervous
You said you thought it was implied that you liked me
So did I
Until I heard about Isabel
You said you thought you liked her
But now you do not
I know I don't know you that well
But you're beautiful
And ****
And artistic
You're two years older and a senior
I'm a sophomore
You're leaving in 5 months to live in France
A continent away
You're perusing music in Lyon with Joseph I'm staying in Minnesota
I have to finish two more years of school
If you asked me to run away and join you creating music in France I'd probably say yes
I'd emancipate myself
I'd love to write music forvever
I'd love to admire your jaw and your teeth and your eyes, your hair and smile
I think most everything about you would work in our favor
Your friend Chad thinks we'd make a good couple
I think Chad is sweet
I think you're sweet
I know I'm sad that if I fall in love with you
And you leave me
I'll have a wasted broken heart
And that you will become a memory
I hope you do such great things
I want to live

How ridiculous it is
to think me and you
there was never a reason to be true
where did everything end up
im outside and youre blue
i paint portraits and poems
he wouldn't like this. god. cobain.
jack **** is what i got
some compliments that didnt add up
you want nothing and thats still a lot
where do we even end up
this isnt what i wanted
we dont mesh, the colors on your collar
and the sweat on my breast
was there sometime out there you felt the insecurity of my flesh
i hear birds chirp now, your season gone
i ask myself how i let things get so wrong
play acoustic until fall asleep
fast and weak i take a seat
wish again you were here with me in this park
next to the street
i feel you even when youre not here
not sure if its you or a ghost i feel near
i want you to be what you can never have
you want me for my years on letterman
wheres your angle
you do nothing for free
(you aren't jack ****
you can't **** with me)

"He, it was assumed, needed food if he was hungry. His hunger was helpful: a way to stay active and accomplish things.

But my hunger was the enemy – something to restrain, control, and master, lest, God forbid, I become less aesthetically pleasing."

A boy told me recently that if I hadn't gone through all the **** I have, maybe he wouldn't have found me- the girl I am as intriguing. Maybe he wouldn't want to understand me like he does if I hadn't gone through so much ****. Maybe I wouldn't be who I am, was his message, more clearly.
Maybe I wouldn't be who I am...but maybe I would be happy. Maybe being neurotypical and healthy wouldn't make me who I am...but I cannot imagine it could be all that bad.

I have traumas surrounding eating disorders and death.
I have diagnosed anorexia nervosa.
Anxiety.
Depression.
I am a survivor.

Life sometimes haunts me, and I can't allow another person to haunt me too. What makes you think you can handle me?
Because I'm pretty tall, because I'm thinner than the average woman, because I'm tan, because I'm blonde, because I have round hips but a flat stomach, because I'm a ***** bisexual, because I work out, because I have long black eyelashes, because I have straight white teeth?

Or is it because you like how I treat people, you like that I will stand up for others, you like that I sing songs, you like that I love deeply and strongly, you like that I read, that I am smart, that I love to learn, that I am perpetually curious, because I have a passion for working with children and being a nanny, because I paint, because I love music and my family, because I want to travel, because I spend nights crying under moonlight writing, because I am bilingual, because I push myself, because I expect myself to create beautiful art and learn all that I possibly can, because I wear what I want and say what I believe?

What is it?

How can you claim to be falling for me when you can't be sure you know what you're falling for?

How can I be falling for you when I don't know if you have the capacity in your heart for me?

I think I could love you eventually.

stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea

Shore lines cross poor minds,
Leaving empty space and tierd haste,
Uncovering what's left of the human race,
Adults will cry what a waste,
As we all try to keep face,
Left this world without a trace.

I sit inside
Out my window is the moon
The presence that draws me from my most concious worries
Health, safety, fertility, image, curiousity
Why am I the way I am?
It is my experiences that make who I am, logically I know
For there to be a genuine magic, somewhere, I wish
I have a strange glimmer of hope, to bring that sparkle and magic closer to me
To revel in something greater than myself, my existence, my geographic location
Just once
I wait
And I worry
And I worry and wait
I don't think she would be proud of this, the moon,
I think she communicates with me, when I need it, when I believe it
I used to talk to spirits through my window as a child
I believed it was real, simply because I believed
There wasn't any crystal clear truth, I simply felt it
The moon brings me through the same window now
Her craters, and dips, her waning and waxing
How I have so many desires to be with her, so far away
Some nights I try to rise above all of these emotions, but my worries bring me back to Earth
A virus right now is spreading, killing many it encounters
If I believed in the power of God as strongly as I want to, maybe I'd feel some comfort or safety.
I'm open to anything, let that be known
I used to worry about my appearance so much, but I know see my actions will speak louder than my beauty
I am a lover, deep down, I crave it, I've let love absolutely destroy me, I've banked on it, I've thought about it, I've needed it, I've had it, I've lost it, let it go, destroyed it
And I've waited for it
Now, these relationships have a hazy linen over them, I can retrieve them with pictures and heavy introspection, but some part of me doesn't enjoy going back
How do I move forward each day with the thoughts of yesterday with me
And how do I do so without the thoughts of yesterday
I try not to be greedy, I try to give, I try to do what is right, and if I do what is wrong, I learn.
There aren't many mistakes I can make with my existence, I'm curious every day
I love someone around me every day
Romantically, I wish I was allowed to be close to those I want
But for now staying home is what is recommended, what's best
I miss going out, I miss getting tipsy at bars, I miss my skinny girl friends, I miss my best friends Angell and Grace, I miss driving to my dietitian and having two hours alone in my car every week...every other week
I miss seeing my therapist and my favorite teachers, I miss having reasons to create, I miss nannying, my job, and art museums in the city
I miss visiting E+an and his house in the city, I miss not being isolated
And the moon, she reminds me that all of those things aren't so far from me, because somehow she is, and yet she is right outside my bedroom window.
She is covered by clouds, and the dark midnight sky, but she is there, and she speaks a perspective I desperately seek, and I am grateful. And I do not live in fear.

The difference of a summer now and then
But it's not so sad you cry, it’s not too sweet you ache, it’s not so new it’s free, but, it’s there, and you do feel it,
like the sun touching the ancient ground,
the sky clearing and joining back together in dark fluffy clouds,
The time for rainbows and naps, a time for sandboxes and strollers,
But that time is not now,
There is a time for crying, a time for your first smiling, for dressing up and goodbye-ing,
But, that time is not now.