We live in a world where no means convince me and flirting is a green light for ***.
Where women are told, don't get ***** and men are rarely told, don't ****.
Where **** shaming is encouraged and victims are blamed.
Where speaking out about **** is a call for attention and **** victims are silenced.
We live in a world where **** culture is normal and that is **unacceptable.

A boyfriend and a goal
The fuel to my eating disorder.
Just 5 pounds.
No dessert tonight
Just 4 pounds.
No dessert tonight
Half a sandwich for lunch
Just 3 pounds.
No dessert tonight
Half a sandwich for lunch
Only a salad for dinner
Just 2 pounds.
No dessert tonight
Half a sandwich for lunch
Only a salad for dinner
I'll go for a run
Just 1 pound.
No dessert tonight
Half a sandwich for lunch
Only a salad for dinner
I'll go for a run
No breakfast tomorrow
Just **5 more pounds...

Was I *****?
Maybe I wanted it?
That intoxicated girl,
She must have said yes.
But that girl was me.
I did not say yes.

Was I *****?
only a vague memory of the night
But the morning, a vivid reality.
Waking up naked in my bed,
To a strange man walking out my door.
Thanking me for sleeping with him.
But I did not say yes.

Was I *****?
He seemed like a nice guy.
Maybe I fell on the walk home.
That's why there was blood and bruises,
On the most intimate parts of my body.
He did take me back to my room.
But I did not say yes.

Was I *****?
The memories will forever haunt me.
But months of hell and healing,
Have led me to realize:
I did not say yes.

I was *****.

All is well in the light of day
but as she sleeps...

screams of terror
as she relives the force of his naked body against hers

tears of sadness
as she relives the first cut she made to her smooth wrist

cries of help
as she relives the night she held a bottle of pills in her hand

She wakes
and all is well in the light of day

You took a beautiful apple and spoiled it with your hard touch.

Pealed away her soft skin
Leaving it to rot.
Chewed away at her sweet flesh
Leaving nothing but the core,
After every bite you swallowed.
Swallowed her identity,
Her beauty,
Her dignity.
Leaving tiny seeds
Tucked within her rotting core.
Waiting to be watered,
Loved,
Planted.

He took those hopeless seeds and grew an apple with his soft touch.

Before you tell me I was, "asking for it"

Tell the family whose house was robbed that they too were, "asking for it"
Tell the boy in the hospital that the drunk driver, "didn't mean it"
Tell the grandmother whose car was stolen that she is, "overreacting"
Tell the school that the shooter, "wouldn't do that, he's too nice"
Tell the kindergartener who is being bullied to, "get over it"
Tell the survivor of a hate crime they're lucky because, "it could have been worse"

**** is a crime too.
Start treating it like one.

What's under the band-aid?

Three red lines
I cut
To heal
To deal
With pain
In my brain.

Oh, that? Its just a paper cut.

he is the do not enter sign on a locked door.
a door I am not meant to open.

He is the puzzle missing one piece.
a piece I can not find.

he is the perfect apple on a tree.
A tree that I can not reach.

He is a match creating beautiful sparks.
Sparks that will never catch on fire.

I will never
open this door
finish this puzzle
pick this apple
start this fire

because he is not meant for me.

Compliments are just words
that turn into lies as they reach my ears.
Afraid to hear them as they are,
telling me that I am enough.
But I can be better.
I am not enough.
Perfection is just a few steps away,
from a few steps away.
Never close enough to reach
But I will keep reaching.

I knew it was wrong,
the way you tickled me
in places that shouldn’t be touched.

I knew it was wrong,
seeing you in nothing but your tight underwear
as I tried to walk away and you said, “come here”

I knew it was wrong,
the way you made me sit on your lap
as you held me so tight against your body.

I knew it was wrong.
But I was just a kid,
and no one believes the kid.

Depression is an unwelcome guest,
here to stay.
Taking over his brain
And stealing his happiness,
His smile,
His words.
Depression is a flood
Filling our house with sadness
As he slowly drowns yet we stay afloat.
I began to feel his pain and sadness,
As if it were my own.
Anxiety is the pouring rain that feeds the flood.
Will I be the next to drown?

Wanted: the perfect dad
I want a dad who will say "I love you".  
A dad who will meet up for a beer just to chat.
I want a dad who can accept me for who I am.  
Someone who greets me with a hug when I visit for dinner.
Who gives me a safe place to work through my ED one meal at a time.
I want a dad who will watch football with me and help me understand the game.
Someone I can call to help me with anything.
Who is proud to call me his daughter.
I want a dad who I will never have.