Its been rough lately, real rough.
My head's been messy, real messy.
Swarming with thoughts of suicide and death.
Swarming like bees,
Each of their stingers drags a new slice into my thigh as I lay in my bathtub.

Its been rough lately, real rough.
My mind has been dark, real dark.
My chest seems to have trouble rising and falling as the wall of anxiety hits.
At this point I don't care if the next cycle of rising and falling is my last.

It's been rough lately, real rough
My brain has been, real sad.
My hands shake and twitch like my depression is trying to force them into doing something they shouldn't.
My body heaves with dry sobs.

I don't want to die but it wouldn't matter if I did.

Today was a last.
My last with my best friend.

Today was a last.
A last with my speech and debate team.
For four years these people stood by me.
Picked me up when I fell, sometimes they were the ones who pushed me. But they loved me.

Today was a last.
The last time I got that warm feeling of home, walking into my speech and debate room.
The last time I turned my nose at the cafeteria lunch.
The last time I subtly flipped off the theater teacher.

Today there was a first for me.
The first time I thought of missing getting up at 6:30 to go to school.
The first time I cried at the knowledge of leaving my school.

Today I graduate.
I take four years of heartbreak and joy and sorrow and
memories of times I almost threw up from laughing so hard
memories of snorting sour patch kids dust for three bucks
memories of fighting with my friends in the halls
memories of sneaking food into class.

I hold these memories near to my heart.
Because within them is the best four years of my life that I would never give up.

Im nostalgic and that's okay, I say my goodbye as a welcome to fond memories and times to come.

Morsels lifted with crackling fingers with pin thin wrists.

I could sew a dress with my needle fingers but id have to lose some weight to fit into it.

I wish to be so perfect that all the other girls will cry because they know their DNA will never be as perfect as my own.

Bite marks imprinted on my knuckles from my dissolving teeth,reminding me that eating isn't worth it.

I wish to one day be thinner than her and her and her, to be thinner than the pencil I chew on instead of food.

Disappearing, dissolving, dying it's all the same but it's worth it for all the pain of wishes of perfect.

To be truthful, I am awkward.
When I stare blankly at you it's not because I'm not paying attention, it's because I'm too confused on what to say.
        Yesterday, I dropped a book and when someone handed it to me I said good morning.

To be honest, I'm clumsy.
The last time I tried to make microwave Mac and cheese I forgot to put the water in and caught the pasta on fire.
       Yesterday I tripped and fell on my pride, and it shattered like a mirror holding the reflection of someone who wasn't me.

To be frank, I'm stubborn.
I refuse to accept help from others.
       Yesterday I broke four cups carrying a box of kitchen goods because I didn't let him take it from me.

To be candor, I'm afraid.
I'm afraid of the things that I can't fix and the things that I never will be able to understand.
        Yesterday my friend committed suicide. And today, I want to too.

Hands clenched so tight my knuckles turn white.

Face wrenched in tears.

Escaping breath not caught.

Rocking back and forth.

There's no reason. No rhyme.

Everything is closing in.

Noise is too loud and too quiet all at once.

I scream whispers of breath I don't have.

My body tells my brain I'm not okay.

My brain tells my body to panic.

My brain left my body.

I'm left in the crossfire of pain and terror.

I can't. Breathe. I can't fight. I can't do this. Please someone help me. PLEASE JUST HELP. I CANT DO THIS ANYMORE.

I was born at night,
Bred to fight.
I could be the proud defender of
But instead I fell for love.
Be kind to those around you
Don't be merciless
Remember me.
I grew up
Still waiting for the windup.
Took my sword and shield in hand.
Made way to the promised land.
Remember me.
I was defeated
Fall of the land was repeated.  
It fell for you.
Remember me.

Songs don't write themselves.
Food doesn't grow itself.
Paintings don't paint themselves.
Music doesn't play itself.

It all comes from us.
Humans.

We are capable of so many things.
We can laugh and cry.
We can dance and fall.
We can do so many amazing things, yet we choose to worry.

We choose to be negative.
We choose to see the bad over the good.
We choose to prioritize our appearances.

What happened to living our lives?
Doing what we wanted.
Eating ice cream with friends
Going to the lake.
Building snowmen with our families.
What happened?

When did we start sitting at desks for hours a day?
When did we start checking on our phones more than on our mothers or fathers?
When did we lose our ability to perceive happiness as an emotion and not the amount of money in our pockets or makeup in out bathrooms?

It's time to be spontaneous.
It's time to be strong and brave.
It's time to sing songs in public.
It's time to buy a dozen balloons for the people we love.
It's time to eat cake when we want regardless of calories.
It's time to take that painted smile off our faces and replace it with a real one.
It's time to be happy again.

We are amazing creatures.
We are human.

Roar like the river
Open your eyes
Atune your thoughts
Meditate on happiness

Roam with those before you and those who will come after you.

I have this friend.

His name isn't important, he hardly even remembers it.

He suffers.

He suffers like I did.

He knows the cold nights that stick their icicle fingers into your thoughts.

He knows the days of bleak nothing.

He now knows what I've been through.

Last night he called me.

Told me he couldn't anymore.

That he had nothing left.

And it's true. He didn't.

But I told him.

"I've been there before."

"I've felt the temptation."

What he doesn't know.

Is that I didn't have someone like me.

Someone to say no.

So my brain told me yes.

Until I spat out the pills.

And let my heart take over my mind.

But he doesn't believe me.

So he goes back into the dark to suffer once more.

Things don't feel right.

It's like the world is painted in front of me.

It's like the ground is trying to swallow me.

I'm not okay.

The world is spinning.

My heart is racing.

I can't breathe.

I never. Wanted this.

This attack on my body by my brain.

People ask if they can help.

I want to say no, but my only answer is tears falling down my face.

My hands once steady are shaking.

Their own little earthquake that's wrecking my world.

That world painting is slowly fading.

This isn't okay anymore.

I can't breath.

I can't move.

I don't want this.

Things are okay, I know they are.

But my brain tricks my body into thinking they're not.

I'm left in the background as my body breaks down.

I can hear myself screaming but it sounds like some one else's voice.

Like a worn out recording I've heard a million times before.

And I watch as my body takes the brunt of the attack.

My eyelids are heavy.
Some days I struggle to keep my mind afloat in the ocean of fog.
My thoughts are thick and stagnant.
My limbs weak and unforgiving.

My eyelids are weighed down.
It's like thick, heavy broadway curtains over my brain.
Show's over and I hardly know my own name.
Thinking is out of the question.
All I can do is listen.
But all I hear is the hum of pointlessness coming from others mouth's.

My eyelids are slipping.
There's a buzz deep in my head. Like a million bees docile and drugged.
I don't feel safe anymore.
My body is falling apart.

My eyelids are closed.
I can't anymore.
Awake is a secductress.
Dark and brutal.
Nothing in this world is worth the hum of hopelessness.

Sleep.

Breath as you go.
Falling through the floor.
Watch as I disappear.
Forget this world as we know.
Ignore the trap door.

I wasn't made for this show.
I never wanted to be sawed in half.
Take me out.
Finish my waste of life.
Gather around for the show.
Do me a favour and ignore the trap door.

I didn't want to be here.
Falling straight down.
You stole my show.
My parashute will get me to the ground.
But you'll shoot me back into the air.
Ignore the lock on the trapdoor.

Sold out show.
Come watch me pull a heart out of a soul.
Watch my mind disappear.
Watch your step, you might fall through the ignored trap door.

I'm not sure if I wanna give you my secrets.
Magicians have plenty of those.
Watch as I disappear.
Nothing left.
Ignore the open trapdoor.

Breath as you go.
Please ignore the bleeding trapdoor.

The days of ice cube dinners and water lunches
The weeks of thin red strips carved into my wrists
The months of tears dripping into the toilet along with whatever was in my stomach

By the next year I was "recovered"
Now trust me that was not an easy road to get to,
and it was an even harder path to follow.
The red wells on my arms dried up.
My stomach became full
And my mind became clearer but I was still plagued by thoughts of my dark place.
It's seduction of safety and simplicity.
Of doing what I wanted to my body.
Until it too gave out like my mind had years prior.

By the next year I had relapsed.
RELAPSE
This word became plastered on every legal document I had.
This word was supposed to mean it was my fault.
That I had somehow turned around my progress.
What they didn't tell me is what the word truly meant.
Relapse means they never truly fixed me.
I was still broken and cracked under my new layer of paint.
My doll's eyes permanently captured sadness.
My porcelain skin scratched and scarred.

All it took was one push and I broke.

I. Relapsed.

The smells of apple juice and peach.
The sun shining in a Polaroid picture.
They mean everything to me.
Sweet tea and rain drops.
A kiss on your mother's cheek.
The sunset slowing down for you and me.
It's sweet,
how the world turns and burns.
Sunflower crowns and the poolside.
Summer came for us to enjoy it.
It's sweet, how much you mean to me.

Shhh

Let the emptiness consume you.
Make your mind an empty cavern.
Let your thoughts float around.

Shut up

Your words are meaningless.
Just a set of sounds.
We don't need them.
Tell me how you feel,
But I don't want to listen.
Show me.

Be quiet

Don't fill the silence.  
Don't break it.
Something so delicate should be appreciated like butterfly wings
Soft and simple.
Don't make things complicated.

Since when did words become so empty?
Since when did peaceful quiet become wrong?
Since when did we lose silence?

Don't be afraid of the hush.
It's Gentle,
Like a friend.
Let it take your hand and guide you to the true meaning of listening.

cake-235 calories

You can have a bite.  
Come on treat yourself.  
Indulge.  
For only the price of:
An hour of sit ups,
two hours of guilt,
A day of crying over the bathroom scale,
A week of fasting.  

French fries-250 calories

Come on take a bite.
Reward yourself.  
Indulge.  
You haven't eaten anything but your own fingernails in days.  

Chocolate milk-120 calories

Take a sip.
Indulge,
for only the cost of the rest of your life spent worshiping
the feeling of an empty stomach.  
The feeling of being cold in a warm room.
The feeling of your bones poking through your skin like white flags.  

Waffles-190 calories

Just one bite won't hurt.  
Indulge
And another and another
soon it's a binge.
Now purge.  
Purge your body of the evil of calories.
Purge your guilt into the toilet.  
Wipe your tears and brush your teeth.
It's worth it to treat yourself,right?

I was born 6 lbs. 9 oz. with blond hair and blue eyes.
I was also born gay
Soon after my uneventful birth
I was given the name Ember Hines,
but this wasn't the only name I would be called.
As I got older,
and came to terms with my sexuality ,
people started replacing Ember with ****** or *****.
Constantly ridiculing me for something I had no control over.
I am anorexic.
And you would think people would ridicule me for this instead of me being gay.
Surely they would see how unhealthy it was
and see that in comparison liking girls was no big deal.
No, they applauded me complementing my toothpick wrists
and porcelain bones peeking through my too thin skin.
How could I not fall in love with my illness?
Every calorie I counted
and every pound I dropped made me feel prettier.
Every meal I skipped,
every sip I didn't take,
got me closer to perfect. 
Every day that I felt fainter  
was a day that I could celebrate being thin,
And forget that I was gay.
Halfway through my freshman year
I had come out, recovered, and collected my being once more,
but
By that same summer I relapsed.
Riddled with anxiety and pain, realizing I may not be the gender I was born as, being home alone for days on end,
I sought after an old friend who brought me comfort even in my own bruised skin,
anorexia.
Everyday I felt dizzier,
was a day my mind couldn't  register the gay thoughts.
Instead of spending time with my "boyfriend" or friends, I spent hours googling how many calories are in a stick of gum and how many calories you burn chewing that gum for an hour. It burns 11 calories while the gum is only 10.
-1
I became so obsessed with that negative number, because something in my mind had changed.
Positive became negative.
Being gay stayed in the back of my mind   And as the number on the scale took its place in my focus
Anything I gained soon became guilty cries
Anything I lost became a celebratory glass of water.
And I got lost in the victory, because who doesn't like to win?
In between my nonexistent meals I watched anorexia documentaries like church sermons.
I wasn't supposed to go to church anyways, I liked girls
I watched them over and over
Not deterred by how unhealthy these people were,
but entranced by how their bodies  were so sharp and how they seemed so frail.
How each of their pale figures were slim enough to wrap an arm around
In my time at private school I knew what loneliness felt like.
I was the poorest and
Weirdest.
I was the only one without a dad.
So I got bullied, by middle school I had thought about killing myself
In 8th grade things looked up
But when I looked down,
I saw a chubby body destined to be with another girl.
I never forgot how alone I felt
Now I feel that feeling in my stomach
Stomach acid accompanied by small morsels of low calorie foods.
Small body shaking from the cold of emptiness.
A lot of times anorexia has a nasty side effect of depression.
In most cases one causes the other
You feel depressed and not good enough so you starve yourself to feel better
Then comes the brief happiness of accomplishment
Then tumbling fall of
"What have I done to myself?"
So now I ask you, would you spend your days counting your calories just to see your bones?
Would you starve yourself to forget you were gay?
Would you lose yourself to be perfect?