if i could scrub all the scars
off my heart and body,
i would in a heartbeat
remove the disease that plagues me.

when i was younger,
i didn't fit in right with the other kids.
i was always thinking about other things,
reading books, drawing, and writing about things
that were far too old for me.

i would daydream of a world that was different,
where magic lived and i could be an adventurer,
all i would have to do is crawl through a door
but there was never a door. magic isn't real.

maybe i've become bitter as i've aged,
my parents divorced the first time while i was in third grade
and i watched my mother date other men and
my father crumple in sadness.

a year later, they remarried each other
and i thought that true love existed and mommy and daddy
were going to be together forever
no matter what.

my brother seemed happy enough,
though i never saw him much because of our age gap
but he would play games with me sometimes and yell at me
and call me dumb other times so i assumed he was okay.

though sophomore year mommy left daddy again
because he was more of a best friend than a husband to her,
which i understand that feelings change and it's okay
and during the divorce both of them came to me in private
to talk about what was going on,
he did this, she did that, so upset.

i had a boyfriend that begun mistreating me at the time
but i was strong, i thought, i can handle this and help everyone
at the same time and everything will be okay
but mom left and dad got a girlfriend and i was nothing
and everything just died in my hands.

maybe i am bitter,
my heart is breaking constantly.
i remember how it felt the first time it broke,
and the all the other times,
what i was wearing and how my hair looked, where i was
how i clutched at my chest and wailed in misery
and now i just silently lie in bed
on the covers listening to music.

i feel defeated.
i wasn't meant for this life, it's too much for me to handle.
others can take moments like this in stride,
get better and move on but where do i move on to
what am i supposed to do
i don't have any answers and i've been around for twenty years.

i'm defeated.
and bitter.

it was so much easier when
i would date the boys that thought of other girls
and had no problem
leaving me on the side of the street

"i think i understand now.
i know what's wrong
maybe. i'm nothing
special.
so, i think i'm
done.

x"

"it's august 16th and
i'm feeling a bit better.
michael broke up with
me and then unbroke
up with me. he says
he loves me and then
he turns around and
acts mean to me. i
don't get it. it doesn't
seem right. just saying."

i remember being in grade school
and wishing i was as small and thin
as the oriental girl that had beautiful penmanship
looking at myself, sitting in the chair
wondering my legs squished and enlarged
against the plastic seat.

why didn't i look like her?
my only memory is remembering how awful it felt,
knowing now that the brain holds onto grief
easier than happiness.
i was self-conscious even though i was just
ten, a young lady budding into the person i am today
but my looks didn't come around until
sixteen, peaked, and declined.

now again at nineteen
almost twenty
suddenly i see myself, i think,
here i stand in the mirror looking at all the errors
flaws that i was given,
a crooked, bent nose, and
fat elbows with creases that remind me of
an old man's face,
but if i take a deep breathe, and
look at myself after i just took a run
i'll see that, oh my
there's collar bones sticking out!
and there really is no extra fat underneath my chin,
oh, what was i thinking,
why did i possibly think my thighs were too fat?
my ribs protrude right here, and if i trace my finger along
i'll find my belly button, sunk into my waist,
right down to where my lady puffs up
like a cute balloon

a lot of things are a great inspiration to me
so many things catch my eye and make my heart swell
like i've never felt it swell before, feeling as if though
maybe it'll just rip itself right out of my chest
perhaps i'm just too over emotional, because
i'll catch myself tearing up at the littlest thing
that makes me feel like
"****, maybe i can be better than i am
no **** that, i know i can"
or even if it's just a movie about a kid named hiccup
who shows that he's better than all of that ****
to save a friend and show the world that there's more than just this
man, i'll just be a baby in tears, holding myself in a blanket
"thank god there's people like that"
great fictional people, that i admire more than anything
and then other great nonfictional people that do such amazing things
with their amazing words and the power of their voice
never before have i been so inspired
watching youtube videos while i sit on my *** and imagine a better me
in a better place.

i get caught up in the hype and i never push myself to get to where i want to go
and that's the downside of the major inspiration shot
leaving me buzzed for hours so that i can't even catch a wink of sleep
lying in bed staring at the christmas lights that i've hung in the room
strands of the string already dying because christmas joy isn't meant to be left up all year round
where is the joy in the sparkling colours if it's always there to see
the disaster and sadness is a constant need in everyones life
to help push the young dreamer off of the deflating air mattress
stressing to her that this isn't all there is but first things first
is to get out there and remember the old cliche
that if there's no pain there is no gain in the end.

so what if i had an awful childhood
and i drew the short straw and got the dysfunctional family that
has left me with some serious daddy issues that, ****
maybe i won't ever get over
but **** it if i'm going to let it go to me,
and **** it if i dated a boy that didn't give a **** about me
that he gave me a broken heart and stomped all over my feelings
even though i turned around and did the same to another boy down the line
well how about that
it just went full circle,
and i know i'll have those days where it hurts to even get out of bed
but i do it to get where i want to
reaching my hands out for the better day that i know is just around the corner.

i read somewhere that
talking about your problems with other people
makes the problems worse
because you're always thinking about it
maybe that's true?

maybe if people just never
talked about their problems with each other
people would be less sad all the time
and more open to positive thoughts
because their mind would never be
on the negative?