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julianna Aug 2018
I’m stuck in the backroads I walked
Many years ago
Because there’s no need to grow up
So now it hurts to wake
And hurts to go to sleep
The only thing keeping me alive
Is the chance of a better me
I’m stuck in the same place and it hurts ...
julianna Aug 2018
I’m afraid
To go somewhere I have the right
I’m afraid
That someone will threaten my life
So many people have passed away
At the hand of another shooting
But at 16, should I be afraid
That the next one could be me?
I am heartbroken and terrified.
julianna Aug 2018
I’m not an angry person,
I’m just an irritable perfectionist.
Haha. I’ve told myself this lie for so long, but I’ve now come to realize that it’s the same thing.
julianna Aug 2018
You’ve left your mark on a broken heart,
On a whirlwind of a girl.
She knows that she’s unstable,
But she considered you her world.
She thinks about you randomly
And digs herself a hole,
So later she can sleep in it
And rest her hurting soul.
julianna Aug 2018
Why do we force a smile,
And let the people lead?
Anxiety will end the “us”
And it will leave the “me”
julianna Aug 2018
My head is turning
Everyone’s asleep right now
My thoughts are churning
No one really cares, mind you
My brain is shaking
Trembles though my feet,
My dear
And nobody would ever even know you’re here
julianna Aug 2018
Another dream as part of the treatment
In all reality, it feels like a torture
If they only knew what the beeps brought on...
The left-right, dream-inducing,
cadence,
Tells my brain what to process;
And it’s always you.
If it hurts that much, is it healing?
Or bleeding out and re-peeling?
It’s the second dream since the therapy
On the second day since the therapy.
And oh,
It felt better the first time.
The one where he thought I was weird,
Because it’s more realistic.
But in the one about you,
I got everything I’d ever wanted
Which hurts
And aches
And hollows one out.
It leaves nerves fried
And teary eyes
And palpating hearts.
Because there’s no room to grow,
No room left to dream.
It’s given me an eye to see what we could have been
And feel how good it would’ve been.
And now I know and long for those  feelings.
And I think I always will,
Because I’ll never forget what I’ve dreamed.
I’m a broken, hollow body. These dream are tiring, winding torture. I don’t think I will ever get over him, it’s a deeper ache than you can expect someone to have for someone so non-essential in their life. But here we are.

The title is EMDR in Braille, or atleast it’s supposed to be.
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