After a long day of 8th grade,
she came home to be greeted by her two dogs.
Rushing straight to her bedroom on a friday afternoon
just to open her laptop and put on her favorite pandora playlist
While flowing all her brainstormed emotions into her “poem.”

She remember hearing a phrase for the first time
that changed her to a more mature mentality.
Some crazy lady her mom forced her to weekly
always asked her, "any suicidal thoughts lately?"
She ignorantly answered “no” not understanding.
that next week the Lady asked if she had "suicidal thoughts"
Her stomach rages with anxiety as she finds the courage
to ask the Lady what it means to be suicidal.

The Lady’s eyes filled with empathy.
Google defines it as "Suicidal thoughts, also known as suicidal ideation are thoughts about ******* oneself, which can range from a detailed plan to a fleeting consideration and does not include the final act of killing oneself. "
She thought about ending her life for the first time
with understanding of what she was doing.

6th grade lunch time.
Her eyes were drenched with sadness
while her stomach filled with discontent feelings.
She told her friends she wanted to die.
They filled her ears with temporary healing
to mend her mind and wellbeing.

She did not really understand what she was feeling
but with goals to not have to feel anymore.
She takes a handful of over-the-counter
painkillers with temporary joy
that it was all over.

She awoke the next morning with guilt and shame.

After reminiscing on this story,  
She realizes she feels the same feelings
but has already accepted the help she needed
to try to be able to accept these feelings.

She wanted more than ever to not feel anything but
found value in who she was.
Still confused, but understood enough about who she was
to just be able to feel the pain and move on.

She had never admitted this story to anyone.
Not even her loved ones or counselors.

5 years later.
She finds this writing on a random spring night.
She is grateful, encouraged, and empowered
for the growth within herself that she was able to witness

She found purpose for the bad days and loves more.
She stays busy; works part-time and goes to school full-time.
The best part is she does it with happiness in her heart
and with loving and encouraging people surrounding her.

She became stronger than her bad days, allowing herself to fight.
She is proud of her story.

When she looks back,
A small teen believed
he was the happiest milestone
that's ever been marked
in her journey of life.  

She treated him like a dying man.
She cherished every second,
laughed at every word,
loved every part of him
entirely every moment she could.

Her brain would plant
beautiful flowers
and they became nourished by
a simple thought of him.

He did not show efforts
to create a new garden.
Malnutrition problems.
She was over blossoming
beautiful bouquets.
And gave them to the poison.

Time passes by,
she tried to be her again.

The thought of him always lingered
and it achieved all it needs.
Questioning herself, lack of confidence.
Day after day pass by,
She doesn’t know what she wants
lost in the ways of the world.

Her brain participates in ways to burry
the negative feelings to succeed
at only feeling good.
She’s stuck, the pain overbears her.

Fatigue, sadness, lack of motivation
all tag along, alone with nothing better to do. Weighing her down in the world while he is living like one normally does.

6 years later. She’s asked about her first love.

When she's thinking about him,
her brain shrivels up
like a flower would when it's cold.  
She try to protect herself, “Debatably a waste of time but also glad it happened.” She answers.

Growth is in pain, she acknowledges.
She thinks of her previous pain
only to find the root of sadness
to be able to change.

She lets go. She loves herself. She is beautiful. She feels like she is worth the world and deserving of a loving guy.

She notices that her maturity was key.
She lives life for her every day. Not for a boy, not for her school, grades, parents. SHE LIVES FOR HERSELF.

Her peace became important. She realized, feelings of hers are real. She is allowed to feel. Her emotions have power.

As science advances, an option of eternal life on earth has still yet to come. We live knowing that we will die.
Is there a timeline of our life that we can't see?
Is there a limit to life experiences that we can take?
How come it is still so hard to accept the death of others?
You live everyday like it could be the last but only because you're told to not waste your days. You've seen many lives come to an end before they had the opportunity to realize the beauty of life.

Twenty-Four hours minus the time it takes for your body to rejuvenate. What can be accomplished?
There is no correct answer. Anything.
Many hours are dedicated to sad thoughts. Weeks fly by.
Unhealthy habits created, trembling fears followed.
The only person who understood you is gone. He's dead.

Eventually, a light shines through all darkness.
A realization of no one can live life for you, except you appears.
You find joy in the little things. The trees overwhelm you with joy cause they are so green and you've never taken time to observe.
Days following are filled with routines and productive thoughts and behaviors.

A year later, the pain is reminisced on. You notice growth.
From not wanting to live through the week to waking up joyful for the opportunities that day holds. Joy is easy to come by without trying. Sad days are limited and happiness is plentiful. The days past were not wasted but a lesson learned.

Eighteen years of life
spent loving and hating everything.
As a toddler, the only worry in her head
was what she was going to dress up as
during her day.
She loved princesses and her mom.
She hated the way her mom and dad argued
and was terrified of alone time with her dad.
As a pre-teen, she worried about her friends.
She loved every single one of her best friends
more than she really knew.  
She hated the way  her mom worked all the time
just to make sure they were taken care of.
An attitude develops from being around her besties
and her mom hates it.
Rolling into teen years, worrying about everything felt appropriate.
She loved traveling and having fun.
She hated that she realized she was the 'ugly duckling' sibling.
Never good enough, there is always something wrong with the ugly duckling.
Depression, it took the best of the duckling that was convinced she was ugly.

My eyes haven't been able to adjust to the light around me quick enough before my mind already started thinking. "Did I oversleep?", "I'm never going to be able to be successful." Oh how some days I hate being me. Feeling defeated after only being awake for 5 minutes, I beg myself to even be able to go back to sleep for 30 minutes to restart my day. After arguing with myself about what the best thing to do is, I get out of bed 45 minutes later. Wash my face, brush my teeth and find a decent outfit. 1 hour into my day and I'm on the edge of an anxiety attack because I feel so self conscious in my own skin. I look in the mirror and really hate being me. A day of school goes by, and I nervously watch the clock tick closer to 4 pm. I love work but I also hate it. Why do I feel the need to fake my happiness to make others feel better? Im so toxic for my own self.

It has finally registered to me
that all I do try to make others happy
ends up making them hate me.
I feel like no one really gets me
like being the only ugly pearl
in the sea.
Though, its an unfair expectation
to think people would understand
the complexity of me being me.