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jess Apr 2020
sometimes i have to search for evidence that i exist
or that i ever did, at all
i question it often
my body takes up space
there are records in yearbooks
and photographs
and there's people who could probably attest to the fact that i once lived
but did i ever make a difference?
will people remember my name?
or will the memory slowly fade?
i'm pretty sure that i exist in this moment
even if i'm a little hazy
but i'm never 100% sure
jess May 2019
i've been pulling,
pulling at my hair
wishing it would just all go away
thin strands are falling
falling to my lap

i hear a humming,
humming of a computer
but there's nothing there
and my laptop is only...
only, silent.

i'm feeling the emptiness,
emptiness of the final blank page
of a good book
and i don't,
i don't know who i am

how much time has passed,
passed since yesterday?
it feels like,
feels like,
jess Apr 2019
there's this weight on my chest
that i can't explain
i'm trying to reach out
but i'm not getting a reply
keep feeling these phantom vibrations
but there's never anything there
it's like hearing your name
when they're talking to someone else
like waving to a friend
who's not waving at you
jess Apr 2019
that i don't recognize
the air feels a little different here
the heat hits a little harder here
the cold bites a little deeper here
i know these halls like the back of my hand
they are made for hundreds of feet
but they lead me nowhere
these walls are built on foolish regrets
there's bad blood between the bricks
there were voices here
voices i heard for so long but never knew
faces i saw but never memorized
like the words on the whiteboard
there's names on the concrete
memories written in chalk
i'm not there
i'm not sure if i ever was
jess Mar 2019
a razor blade under your tongue,
don't speak
eggshells beneath your feet,
tread carefully
a rope around your neck,
don't fall
wood underneath your nails,
reach slowly
a knife behind your back,
don't look
a knock at the door,
don't open it
a gun out of sight,
stay alert
silence in the darkness,
don't breathe
jess Mar 2019
i hate the emptiness you bring
broken promises of resolutions
snow turns to slush
gone ugly from footsteps and tire tracks
clean-up after the holidays
empty boxes and strewn wrapping paper
the lights are coming down and it's dark
friends and family go back home
and i'm alone
oh january
i lay awake at night
because you make me realize that
a whole entire year just went by
i know it's not january but this still feels relevant and i never posted it
jess Jan 2019
i don't have the guts to stab
but i can pick away at scabs
and prevent myself from healing
i can push what i am concealing
down 'till i feel sick
though i have to be quick
i don't have the guts to cut
but i can look into the reflection and say "you're ****** up"
i can turn the mirror around
although i don't have the guts to drown
i'll find different ways to hurt
i won't let myself wear skirts
i'll stay meek
i won't let myself speak
i don't have the guts to overdose
but i can call myself gross
i don't have the guts to bleed
but i can deprive myself of what i need
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