When it rains, it pours, and opens doors.

But you know that when the truth is told
that you can get what you want
or you can just get old.

I have been told multiple times that I talk about my mental health issues way too much. I have been accused of sharing my story to gain attention. I have been accused of using my past as a way to get people to feel sorry for me. However, that could not be further from the truth. I talk about my mental health issues openly because I know what it's like to be alone and suffer in silence. I do it for the ones who are struggling and who do not have a voice out of fear of being told to shut up. I am not the one that needs attention. The topic of mental health issues are what needs attention. I do not need anyone feeling sorry for me. I don't feel sorry for me. Everyone goes through some kind of hell in their lives  and my battle with mental health is my hell. The ones who complain about me speaking out are always the ones who get off on telling people to be quiet. They are the kind of people who are ignorant and are so quick to judge issues they know nothing about. I refuse to be silenced. I refuse to let others who are in my shoes to be silenced. I refuse to let negative people get to me. I spent so long living in silence as well as many others trying to cover up the mental health issues in our world today because it makes people uncomfortable. It's time to speak up. It's time to be educated on these issues. It's time to make a difference so we can save more lives.

so many poems tell you that you have to fill
the first few lines with a lot of ******* imagery
to fill the stanzas before you hit one or two lines
that actually mean something: and by that heroic
couplet, or whatever the english teachers say these days,
the whole ******* poem is redeemed.
I don't think I should have to write sixteen stanzas
for the sake of the last line, but here I am
so I might as well elaborate a bit on the rooftops
and the moonlight on her hair and the fact
that I cannot love her as I wish I could and
I never dreamed of Paris like other women always expected me to
the smell of baking bread and the Eucharist
hurts my knees and heals my soul, thank God
for God, but it seems unfortunate that we as people can't just
ignore the existence of our Creator. Something calls us back
something hurts us in desperate moments when we've
written sixteen hundred stanzas and none of them meant anything
and we're afraid to show our faces to a priest or our mother
when I drifted away from certain shores I thought
I wanted to inhabit forever, the cross I clung to
led me through sunny and tumultuous waves
I always did like being on the water. I always did
like salt and water and earth and wine and I am
a child of the Church- my Church that tells me
there's nothing wrong with being tender
nothing wrong with having a soft heart-
you see, our God's heart bled out
and He never concealed His tears.

"I was just a kid, I didn't know what to do... so I did nothing."

*"That's not true... you survived."

I'm done with all of the angst,
I'm done hiding in dark corners
Sitting in a brew of unhappiness, simmering
I'm through with poems about being dead
Poems about the past, which is but a bump
In my bright future
I'm done having a boyfriend who I don't love
Who I tried to love, but once again, forced
I'm done feeling sick around certain people
(Even though I can't change the way my body responds)
I can't stand half the songs on my phone anymore
Because they force memories to the surface
And why the hell do I want to feel that?
I'm done being dark and twisty,
Done saying negative comments about my life
Done with cigarettes and done with substances
Created to make me feel happy,
When all they do is make me feel helplessly small
I'm done, I'm done, I'm done