i want to kiss her. i want to kiss her so bad. i miss her. but I hurt her, and I'm an idiot.

i flashback to the movies, where we kissed for the first time. we told each other it was an experiment, to see if we liked it or not. but we both new better than that, we both knew we would love it, and we did, and a kiss became a relationship,
became feeling something new,
became wondering what feelings for another girl meant
became wanting to be with her more and more,
became using the words i love you,
became thinking of and texting her all the time,
became how am i supposed to accept myself as someone so
much more different than i’d ever thought i’d be,
became thinking how could i tell my parents,
became sneaking around in our closets refusing to come out,
became shut bedroom doors,
became laying on the floor with no shirts or bras on,
became just skin on skin, hands on chests,
became the closet I’m hiding in becoming squished full with two people,
became whispered giggles and groans between kisses,
became knowing a foreign tongue,
became my closet becoming too full
due to all the extra baggage,
became i can’t do this,
became i’m scared,
became i’m done,
became me hurting you,
became i’m sorry,
became wanting you later that night
to fill the hole in my chest that i created,
became i miss you,
became i still love you,
became you moving on to some guy,
became you not needing a closet anymore,
became just me in a closet that now feels
so much bigger than before
because now that you’re gone my closet and my heart are empty.

I remember the first time someone explained to me what the word gay meant.
We were in middle school
Playing on the swing set behind Stoy Elementary
"He’s so gay," she said
Bitter disgust poured out of her mouth with every syllable
I could not think as to why being happy could be such a horrible thing
And so I asked
My exact words being
“Whats so wrong with being happy?”
Now both my friends looked at me weird
“Don’t you know what gay means?”
“Doesn’t it mean to be happy?”
“You’re such a little kid, gay does not mean happy. Gay is a boy who likes another boy”
I stood there wondering why it mattered so much that a boy liked another boy;
why it was such a distasteful thing.
And why it meant gay couldn’t still mean happy.

The instructor said,
    Go home and write
    a page tonight.
    And let that page come out of you—
    Then, it will be true.
I wonder if life could really be that simple?
I am twenty, confused, and clinically depressed
I went to therapy, then to inpatient, and now I’m home
to this house that I’ve known since birth,
Depression is not the only thing I feel, so it is not all of me.
But the path down this road has been long, and dark,
Going up hills and making turns, that got me lost sometimes,
But I’m starting to see the light of day,
Everything happens for a reason they say.
My journey isn’t over yet, but I’ll tell you what I’ve learned:

I’m not easy to understand, but nobody is,
at twenty, my age. But I know I am not  just what
I feel and see and hear. Instead I am also  what
I think, and say, and do. Aren’t we all?
The things that define me, aren’t only in my head.
They can be read, and heard, and seen,
My words spoken out loud, or written down are
The decisions I make, such as letting go, or fighting;
Telling a truth, or a lie;  giving, or taking
I guess having depression doesn’t make me a good or bad person
Despite my disorder, I make ordinary choices.
So will my definition of me be alright,
Even if it means, I’m not always delighted to be here.
But I will be here
Just like you are, instructor.
You might be happy with life---
Yet you have your troubles, just as I have mine.
That’s human.
Perhaps you don’t want to be a part of some sad occasions,
Nor do I often want to be a part of them either.
But we are, and that’s life!
As I learn from my mistakes and hard times,
I guess you learn from yours—
although you’re older—and wiser—
and I have less life experience than you.

In response to the text: "who wants to get ******* this weekend?"
I reply: I'll bring donuts, Gatorade, and Cards Against Humanity.
I tell the girls that the snacks are for them, so they don't get too drunk or hungover.
But really I know myself too well, and I binge when I feel lonely.
Its hard not to feel lonely, when you're the only sober one there.

At the Party:

Never Have I Ever reveals more than I ever thought it would.
I might be the oldest, but I am by no means the most mature.
Things I have never heard of, things I could have never thought of are things of which they speak.
Two donuts are gone.

Their alarms all go off at 10:00 for birth control. They take out their mini purse packs of 30 pills, no bigger than a credit card.

I don't take birth control, because my periods are regular, and well:

Depression+antidepressants+confusion of sexuality= no *** drive at all.
I mean zip, zero, nothing.

Leaving me to be the only ****** of the six girls here.
Three donuts are gone.

Hours ago though, I took my 300mg of Seroquel XR.
I timed it just right.
This time I won't fall asleep hours before everyone else

'Pong' requires drinking so I sit their and watch.
Four donuts are gone

Shots are taken.
I pour more tea into my mug.
Five Donuts are Gone

Drunk face-timing old friends who have moved away results in much yelling, and her hanging up.
I start a new group text where I talk only to myself.
All Donuts are gone

*There is no wonder why alcohol and depression don't mix

Monday:

The text said "who wants to get ******* this weekend?"
Life *****, as it always does,
but really its only Monday!

Tuesday:

I get assigned designated driver, but its not like we are

A. going anywhere
              or
B. I have any other choice

You know its dangerous to mix anti-depressants with alcohol?
And isn't the point of these pills, not to depress myself further, as alcohol has always seemed to do for everyone else?
Isn't that why they like it?
Because they feel numb?
I don't understand why anyone would want to be numb.
Maybe it feels good if its only for a little while.
Not for me though.
For me the numbness doesn't come in a bottle.
It comes in reflective surfaces, and anxieties, and sharp objects.
I cannot choose when to turn it on or off.
It just comes and goes as it wishes, as if I were a house and numbness called me home.

Wednesday:

The group message alerts are buzzing like their is no tomorrow.
Plans for where to go keep falling through.
But don't worry, the dead alcoholic's ex-wife and daughter are okay with hosting an underage drinking party.
And this is why I wonder about humanity.

Thursday:

We will all gather at that one girls house.
Everyone will bring alcohol.
I will bring donuts, Gatorade, and Cards Against Humanity.
I tell the girls that the snacks are for them, so they don't get too drunk or hungover.
But really I know myself too well, and I binge when I feel lonely.
Its hard not to feel lonely, when you're the only sober one there.

Friday:

They talk about this past year.
It was their freshman year of college.
I remember mine. Two years ago now. Time sure does fly.
We all talk about sophomore year.
I'll be back their again too... I hope.
You see, suicidal ideations don't usually help when trying to complete classes.  

Saturday:

Never Have I Ever  reveals more than I ever thought it would.
I might be the oldest, but I am by no means the most mature.
Things I have never heard of, things I could have never thought of are things of which they speak.
Two donuts are gone.

Their alarms all go off at 10:00 for birth control. They take out their mini purse packs of 30 pills, no bigger than a credit card.

I don't take birth control, because my periods are regular, and well:

Depression+antidepressants+confusion of sexuality= no *** drive at all.
I mean zip, zero, nothing.

Leaving me to be the only ****** of the six girls here.
Three donuts are gone.

Hours ago though, I took my 300mg of Seroquel XR.
I timed it just right.
This time I won't fall asleep hours before everyone else

'Pong' requires drinking so I sit their and watch.
Four donuts are gone

Shots are taken.
I pour more tea into my mug.
Five Donuts are Gone

Drunk face-timing old friends who have moved away results in much yelling, and her hanging up.
I start a new group text where I talk only to myself.
All Donuts are gone

*There is no wonder why alcohol and depression don't mix

The shirt that once hung loose from my shoulders, hugs me as tight as a small child does to its parent on the first day of swim lessons.

Shorts and pants that I used to swim in, now fit maybe a little too snugly.

And the weight I want to lose like a pair of glasses, or a set of keys, keeps adding up like apples in a math problem.

Does the saying "it will get worse before it gets better," have to apply to everything?

Maybe my shirts will hang lose again, just as the children get used to the water in time.

Maybe the snugness of my pants will wear old, and my bottoms will go back to needing belts to hold them up.

Maybe a friend named Sam will need some apples, and we will learn to subtract.

Maybe I will feel safe eating one of those apples, without wanting to throw it back up again.

Sometimes I think that I never want to give up this disordered habit of mine.

And other times I know it will never do me any good.

I'm trying to look at the mirror without judging what I see in my reflection.

I try to tell myself that despite the fact that my face is littered in acne and the scars from old breakouts, that my flaws only make me human.

I try to tell myself that despite the fact my hair strays in every direction that it really is a crown.

I try to tell myself that despite the fact I weigh more than I would like that Sierra DeMulder was right when she said "my body is the house I grew up in, how dare I try to burn it to the ground."

I wake up every morning look in the mirror and I try to tell myself that despite the fact that I hate what I see, mirrors are just glass and I am more than that.

I try to tell myself that despite the fact I am a mere one size away from being plus sized, the fact that my BMI says I'm overweight, the fact that the numbers on the scale are my worst enemy, that there are no numbers in the dictionary definition of worth.

I keep telling myself that I can change, that I will change despite the fact it seems like nothing will ever be different.

I try telling myself that tomorrow will be better despite the fact it almost never is. But I keep trying because eventually one of these tomorrows has to be better.

dear Kaela,

in a couple days it'll have been 7 years since you died. i think of you often. I wonder what you would be doing right now. how would our lives be different if you were still here? i like to think that you would be doing something to help others, or helping animals, because that is what you always did. you helped people. but most of all when i think of you, i think of your smile, and how you helped people to be happy, just by being yourself.

last saturday i was teaching swim lessons. as one of my lessons finished up, the next ones tumbled through the door, bundled up in jackets and scarves. once in her bathing suit, the girl looked at me. i wasn't paying too much attention at first. besides with a cap and goggles on its hard to tell what the kids look like sometimes. but at the end, when the eye protection and hair covering came off. I just stared. "high five," i said holding up my hand, my eyes darting all over her face. because standing right there in front of me was a five year old version of you.

ever since that moment, i can't help but think that, that little girl is you. Kaela, you loved life so much, and you lived every moment to its fullest, and then it was so awfully taken from you. in the past year, i've struggled so much with wanting to end it all. but i know this little girl who smiled so bright, so proud of the fact that she could make me happy just by swimming well, this little girl is you Kaela, reminding me to live my life to the fullest. to love the life i've been given. to keep on going.

thank you kaela for reminding me to keep going. i love you. i miss you. i hope you are happy. rest in peace<3

your dear friend,
erin

Dear me (age 13),
     Congrats, you're a teenager! Get ready for some of the best times of your life and also some of the worst. When you hear that old saying "You never know what you had until its gone," don't just shrug it off. Never take anyone or anything for granted. Soon you will loose someone important. Don't be afraid to mourn. It's okay to cry. Let it out.
With Love,
An older you

Dear me (age 14),
     Middle School is rough, but you're almost done. Keep going. Gymnastics is rough this year competing two seasons in a row, but I promise you its worth it. You'll be so much better because of it. Don't give up!
With Love,
An older you

Dear me (age 15),
      Hello again. Welcome to High School. You're first midterms are coming up. Study a little harder than you think you need to. It's worth it. This year gymnastics will make you the happiest person in the world. Just a warning though, at the top of the highest mountain, there is no where left to go but down. Also thank mom for making you work in the guidance office during study hall. These people will become some of your biggest advocates.
With Love,
An older you

Dear me (age 16),
      When the beam coach says you need to stop gymnastics for a bit to rest your back, listen. Do not keep going when her back is turned. When the bars coach says to stop arching your back, listen. Please listen. But when the head coach tells you to loose 10 lbs, don't. Don't listen. Instead curse her out, tell her how that makes you feel, tell her that she is a horrible human being, and how much you can't stand her, but whatever you do, do not ever let her words control you. You are perfectly beautiful. At regionals, don't go for the double back dismount off bars. End with the full twist instead. But don't be ashamed if you don't make it to nationals. Instead, rest, heal, get better. Skip all the other doctors you think you should see. Instead schedule an appointment with  Dr. Greenberg like the head coach keeps insisting you do. I know its scary and painful right now. But the physical pain will go away.
With Love,
An older you

Dear me (age 17),
     Life is harder than ever right now. The physical pain is awful, but the emotional pain is worse. I'm so sorry this had to happen to you. But please whatever you do, do not pick up that razor. The urges to hurt yourself will only get stronger the more you give in. Its a trap so hard to get out of, you will wonder if you ever can. Instead pick up your camera, swim farther, call a friend. Anything!
With Love,
An older you

Dear me (age 18),
     When you spend the afternoons of your senior year at a mental health facility, embrace the help your getting. Remember the lessons you learn, they will only help you in the long run. Have fun on senior trip, and don't let anyone bring you down! When you start college, don't be so quick to trust your roommate. The girl you met in the bathroom while moving in though, trust her with your life. She will be your best friend. And I honestly don't know where you would be without her.
With Love,
An older you

Dear me (age 19),
     Stop blaming yourself for falling asleep everywhere, and ask the doctor to change your medication. Accept the fact that you have a mental illness and its okay to not be okay. Keep eating lunch and dinners with your friends. Don't forget to thank dad every day when you both live out of a hotel room, so you can finish freshman year. Embrace DBT, and learn to live by it. Sophomore year will start out okay, but will head downhill pretty quickly. When your roommate talks about her sorority, listen. These girls will become you're best friends and biggest supporters (besides blood related family of course). Don't worry too much though, you'll make it through, with the love and support of your family and amazing sisters at school.
With Love,
An older you

Dear me (age 20),
     I've only known you for a couple of days, barely even two weeks really. but please keep going. Keep fighting. It has to get better at some point. right?
With love and hope,
Yourself

How am I supposed to think when my thoughts are like cars racing.
When my thoughts are of cars racing....at me.
How am I supposed to breathe when the water that normally keeps me afloat is now over my head.
When the water that kept my life balanced, is now flowing overboard.
How am I supposed to let you in when the door is locked and there is no key.
When the door is a brick wall I can only bang my head against in hopes that you might hear me.
How am I supposed to survive when I can't even think,
when I can't even breathe,
When I can't even let you in....

To save me.

I go in circles of self love to self loathing
I go in circles of I love her, I love her not
I go in circles of I'm straight, I'm gay
I can feel my life cycling slowly as if it were going down the drain.
I go in circles of happiness and depression
I go in circles of I can do this, no I can't
I go in circles of being too full and starving
My life is cycling like a bike up an unknown path
And I know at the top of this path, at the bottom of this drain I might find something worth living for
But right now I feel dizzy from all of these circles

Did you know me and you are just the same
We know pride and we know shame
And though we don't look at all similar
Both our hearts march to the beat
Of the melody we call our lives
It's not our outsides that tell who we are
It's our insides and what we keep in our heart
Our eyes look at the same people
Yet we see different things
I know that pain
I know that shame
The eyes of another starring at you with blame
We share the same insides
but not the same brain
You look at me with such disgrace
But we are both people made by God's grace
My preference of mate,
Or the gender I am,
Nor the color of my skin
Should tell you who I am and
Who I am not
My words and actions should speak for me
And I say you should let my people be
For God made us too
With his very hands
We are the same you and me
We are both humans who think and breathe
We know the same love and we know the same hate
But I spread pride while you spread shame

Do you feel guilty when I appear in your feed?

A burden is the depression settling in around you like a rain cloud over only your head.
Walking from place to place soaking wet from the storm.
You are cold, you are sick, you are not okay.

2. A burden is the anxiety shaking your body until you feel like you might burst at the seams.
People can see that your hands won't stay still, and they stare.
You are trembling, you are scared, you are not okay.

3. A burden is the rumors your "best friend" has spread around the whole freshman class.
Secrets exposed to people you don't even know.
You are found out, you are alone, you are not okay.

4. A burden is the thought of suicide bouncing around your head.
The thought of death so good, yet so bad.
You are confused, you are conflicted, you are not okay.

5. A burden is reaching out for help and being punished.
No longer allowed to talk to those they told you would help.
You are lost, you are unprotected, you are not okay.

6. A burden is not a student who has experienced 1-5.
A  student who yearns so much to get better, and just keeps getting pushed down.
A student who is terrified, who is lonely, who is not okay

7. You called yourself a mental health professional.
But 8. would never deal with this student yourself.
and 9. called her a burden to the entire campus.

But the campus is unaffected, the campus is stable, and the campus is okay.

So did you mean the campus would be better off without me?

Or that you would?

A lot of times I text you first.
No.
All the time.

A lot of times you answer.
No.
Only sometimes.

I wonder if I bother you, and so I don't text you for a while

but ultimately I need you.
I need you to answer me.

So I texted you tonight.
I'm still waiting for an answer...

This life isn't a contest of who wore it best.

There is only room for one in the place where I reside
The closet in which I hide
was only built for me.
But now, in this closet there are two,
and that's only because I love you.

Wrists were not made to be cut open,
nor hearts sown back together with words
of yet another "soul-mate."

Your life was not supposed to be so torn up at the seams.

I really have no clue what I'm supposed to say
When you ask me:
"How are you?"
That is to say I know what you want me to say.
But I don't feel it

Instead, I  feel:
Lost
Empty
Scared
Alone

It was when you asked me if I was multiracial that I knew you only saw me skin deep.

As we danced you kept pulling me closer.

It was weird…uncomfortable

It was when you asked me if I ever had fun that I knew you wanted me to loosen up.

You held me close your hands on my thighs

It was weird…uncomfortable

It was when you asked me what I did in my free time that I thought you might care.

You kept hugging me tighter to yourself

It was weird…uncomfortable

It was when you asked me for my number that I thought about trusting you, but I didn't.

*You made me feel wanted by someone new

It was weird…uncomfortable

I should have known by the words of our favorite songs
that it was okay to tell you that maybe I'm not who you think I am.
When you look at me, what do you see?

I wonder if you knew that I am a broken person, and that I have been,
but that I don't want to always be a broken person.
That sometimes at night I look to the sky and cry

Tonight when you came over,
I was going to tell you that maybe I'm not who you think I am
That maybe I'm not as whole as people think

But tonight you asked me out

I should have known by the way you talked to me
that it was okay to tell you that maybe I'm not who you think I am.
When you look at me, what do you see?

I wonder if you knew that I like this girl, and that I have,
but I'm not sure if I always will.
That sometimes at night I think of being "normal"

Tonight when you came over,
I was going to tell you that maybe I'm not who you think I am
That maybe I'm not as straight as people think

But tonight you asked me out

And now I don't know what to say
Other than I'm sorry
I'm sorry I kept secrets
I'm sorry I told lies

I want us to still be friends

Why did I just do that?
Why can't I do anything right?
Why do I have to eat?
Why do I have to look like this?
Why can't I look like her?
Why can't I tell you anything?
Why do I love this so much?

If God created everyone in his own image, why do I look like this?
I want to jump out of my skin every time I look in the mirror.
If God created everyone equally, why am I judged for the person I choose to love?
They stare when I hold her hand.
If God created everyone with a purpose, why do I have no motivation to do anything at all?
I sit and stare at the wall.

Words hit you like a wave
Over and under and through your head
They swirl around you like the wind in a storm
Making you think more than you have ever thought
Giving you feelings you haven’t felt, in a long time
Phrases that make you laugh, cry, wonder
Connect with the world around you
With other people
And friends
And family
But most of all
You with yourself
You remember feeling
Sadness, joy, weakness
Pain, Stereotyped, Repressed
Just what he described, like he said
His words fill up your heart, your mind
Your soul remembers how it felt to hurt
To feel happy, to be scared, to live
and love not just another person
not just family and friends
But yourself
Poetry, it brings you out
Out of your shell, or your cage
Or your box, It breaks down the walls
that keeps in everything you’ve never said
But you’ve wanted to say so badly
For poetry is you, your heart and soul
Written down in words you want no one to see
But you want everyone to read, just like you  
Want no one to hear your thoughts
But everyone to listen
Thats what poetry is
Emotion in its purest form
A construct of your thoughts
On paper, a form of record
That will always be yours
But also someone else’s
Because you cannot be selfish
With words you must be willing to share
And the brilliance of the words must not be
confused with obscurity, but a warning: they will be
Not everyone understands what passion and gusto that
Words are made with, spoken with, written with
But I did, I felt the passion, I felt the wave
And so I stand at the edge of the sea
Of words, waiting for some to hit me
and inspire my inner brilliance

I want to kiss her. I want to kiss her so bad. And I miss her. But I hurt her and I'm an idiot. Sorry. Needed to get this out. And you're the only one I feel safe telling. Night.

She said nobody
Touch this, and so I did for
I am nobody

I sit here,
loved,
But still lonely;
feeling broken,
but barely bent,
a good life,
but with a sad face.
And I know I'll be okay...
eventually,
but for right now I'm not,
and I need you to know that I'm trying