He watches from a ***** window pane
As his uncle suits up in his cap and gown
It's ironic how different they are.
Daddy was shot when he was young
He really never had anyone
Mama did her best
But sometimes
Best isn't sufficient for a ten year old child.

She is in excruciating pain each day
It's hard for her to get through them
She's got suicide on her mind
As so much death has penetrated her life already
She spews questions at God
"Why are you doing this? Why?"
Her grandmother has passed
And her mom's racking on the years
While she herself may need surgery
How is she supposed to handle it?

I myself am depressed and anxious
Recovering from loss
Wrestling with faith
Falling from grace
And yet
I have boundless opportunities
That they do not.
Sometimes, I feel guilty for this
But others I think
Maybe this is just a reminder
Of how we're not that different after all.
*We're all just human.

My life is my behind me
And I'm looking in a mirror
A year passed by
But did I do enough?

Circumstantially, my life became hell
Death and tragedy were glaring me in the face
And yet, my response was
"Bring it on, *******."

They did
And for a short time
It seemed they were winning.
I was assaulted and lost friends
Due to events surrounding it.
I lost loved ones
To death's spearhead.

I was sad
I was lonely
I was anxious
And I had every right to be.

An eating disorder had drawn me in
And lured me with his lies.
The end seemed to be approaching
As my abuser came back to work
And I could not even speak of
What he did to me.

However,
The fact that I could choose
Whether or not to care empowered me.
I stopped giving him what he wanted:
Control.
I took that back
And it feels spectacular.

My bulimia is almost gone
One more month until I reach remission.
This was done because I made a choice
A choice to stop the madness
That controlled my life
I took that back
And it feels delightful.

As for the tragic passings
They linger with me still.
They remain like a bad taste in my mouth
But I don't want to spit them out.
I remember each individual
As more than a tragedy, but a person
I remember them in life
Rather than in death.
I finally can control my memories that I replay.
I took that back
And it feels incredible.

So, in reflection
I took my life back
And it couldn't feel better.

My little sister had become an entitled *****. Her thirteenth year had brought terror on us all. I can't really complain, however; I had been the same way at thirteen and fourteen. It's funny how I act like I'm so much older and more mature now. At almost fourteen, I was having *** and sneaking around and I'm still doing that. However, I was in the god-awful scene phase of my life, not that we haven't all been there with the clip-in colorful extensions and the emo band tees. My sister is in the slutty Hollister model phase of her life. I feel like we all go through on or the other, or if you're lucky enough you go through both. My body type was always bustier and hippier than any Abercrombie model that I had ever seen.

My dad and I had always **** heads. It flares up when my mom isn't around to be the peacemaker. Even when she is home, we still argue frequently, and we take a lot of low blows at each other. Yet he also expects me to be perfect. He's always been on my case about my weight, my friends, my clothes, my hair, my personality...I can barely breathe around him.  Nothing I do is good enough for him and frankly, I've stopped trying to please him.

And me? Well, I'm just the black sheep, the dark horse, the family **** up. The **** up who isn't all that smart, in school or in life. The **** up who can't lose weight, and who takes the heat for the fact that majority of her family is overweight. The **** up who gets blamed for confrontation she gets into with her sister. The **** up who can't play sports and is just plain clumsy. The **** up who can carry a pitch, but will never be a star. The **** up who can't cook, dress or act right. The **** up who will never honor her family. The **** up who's always been subpar in every area of life. The **** up who has nothing to offer the world.

I claim to have empathy
But I also know I'm lacking.
I chuckled when you said
You'd marry him
You're in high school, sweetie
And when it didn't work out
I wasn't at all surprised.
When you ******* about your life
My mind was on mine
When you made every small problem
Bigger than it needed to be
My thoughts immediately said
"It could've been worse"
But my mouth didn't dare.
And then you have the gaul to tell me
That I'm being pessimistic and whiney
After all the times I bit my tongue
In front of you?
Sorry honey,
But I can falsify empathy for you.
If it's sympathy you want
Go look elsewhere.

I could never retrieve
The love I had for you
It was lost in flames and fury
That comes with clashing personalities.
I'm sorry you saw
The broken pieces within me
Piercing through my chest.
Families have fallen to bits
And so have I.
So why are you pretending
That you still have a chance
To be my one and only?
Stop acting
Like the broken bones and broken hearts
Mean nothing.
Stop trying
To get me back within your
Manipulative claws.
Yet with every hit we continue to take
Every late night phone call
Every time we meet up
I cannot say no.
With every shot of whiskey
You make
A shot in the dark.

Cigarettes and coffee
At midnight every night
People wonder why I don't sleep
But I don't question it
Nor do I care at all.

Sleep never did me any good
I was always exhausted anyway.
Nightmares took my mind
And passed it between their grimy fingers.
I do not wish to be subjected to that again.

Now, as a self-induced insomniac
These nightmares merely come true
Or they show up
In the form of hallucinations.

I guess when I found slumber
I had a better grip on my emotions.
But so what?
I am still out of control either way.

Sleep or no sleep
I am a sad and lonely
Shell of a human being
And I pray every night
That I will be okay again someday.