For too many years i'v been writing poems about wanting to die,
but not knowing how and not having a clear reason as to why.
But this poem is a little different from the ones before,
as this poem is a little bit more happy rather then a little bit more sore.
The past is where all my memories are,
where I was planning to take my life with a car.
So many people have told me to forget the past,
but i always wanted to remember and for another day to last.
But let's forget all that and move onto the present,
where now i understand what the past really meant.
I am happy to say that i have finally started to move on,
all the things that caused my life to stop are gone.
The voices, the place, the faces and perfumes that i used to remember,
are now all gone and I am now able to live in December.
It's been nearly a year since i'v been going to the gym,
it's been a huge part of my life meaning that remembering the past is very slim.
I used to hate looking at myself in the mirror,
now I do it everyday and the future seems a bit more clearer.
My cat has helped me to cope with the anxieties that i have,
she keeps me happy rather then sad.
My parents have changed me to how i am today,
now i'm looking forward to each and everyday.
So my message is as simple as it gets,
go through each day like it is your best.
Remember live life slowly because it's not a race,
I am still living life but i have finally arrived at my happy place.

I’m happy
(I’m depressed)

I love myself
(I hate myself)

I can’t wait to live my life
(I can’t wait to die)

I am lucky to have my friends
(why do they even like me?)

I have a family who loves me
(and I continue to disappoint them)

I am an excellent student
(I can’t focus in school)

I want to travel the world
(will I even live to do that?)

I’m fine
(I’m not fine)

I’m perfectly okay
(please help me)

there is more than one type of cold.
there’s the cold from that winter wind
it blows through the window
with the hole in it and it sneaks around
the curtains and comes up
through the floor
there’s the cold during the summer
when it’s ninety degrees in the shade
and you turn on the a/c in the car
and it numbs your fingers
and the backs of your arms
there’s the cold when you’re sick
and ten blankets couldn’t reach the chill
that’s made its way inside
and your eyelids feel the fever drifting
there’s the cold that arrives when you’re scared
when you’re nervous
it nestles just under the skin
and you’re losing feeling in your fingers
there is more than one type of cold
but you’re the only one
that ever made me freeze.