staring at the blank page
i find myself thinking
quite low of myself.

wondering to myself
absently muttering out loud
as if adding more sound
to the white noise
will give me a sense of validation
that i still exist.

the hum of the laptop
and turquoise hexagon sun
mixes with the sound
of the car doors closing outside
and the people sitting
in their chairs, lazing about
staring at the television screens

what else can i hear?
closing my eyes, i stop
taking a moment
to let my worried mind rest
forgetting about my financial crisis
to bathe in the sound
of my silence.

with my eyes closed
i type with confidence
i don't fear my words
when i can't see them
my eyes feel hot
under my dark eyelids
as heavy as they are
i am surprised i don't
slouch and fall into slumber
right here in my chair.

in the second it takes
to flutter open my eyes
and reread the words i just wrote
i have to remember
to stop myself before i nitpick
and change what came
from my heart
and at the time felt right.

if only
i went through life like this more often
then maybe i wouldn't feel so down
or ******* myself
because honestly i'm not that bad
nor am i as dumb
or silly as i feel
and maybe next time
when i go ice skating
i won't be such a little *****
about how i look to other people.

he's like a disease
stuck in my mind
his constant abuse
yelling in the back of
my brain

i cut and tear
and pull and
try to rip it out
drain my blood
and give to others
in hopes to create
something pure

i just want
the words gone
i don't want to
listen to this abuse
anymore

it's been two years
since i've left him
so why can i
still hear it

i thought that
maybe if i cleaned
my insides
the words would
disappear
but

they haven't and
some days
it ruins me

i cannot write anything
it's all in my head
and i can see it but
it won't come out

no matter how hard i push
my mind is constipated
and laxatives aren't helping
i'm not sure what to do

i can write ******* and
tell myself that's good enough
but it's not and it's so
******* frustrating

and depressing how
unhappy i am with my creative self
i am not creating enough
and i feel stagnant and stuck
no matter how much **** i use
my mind is still a dry desert
and it's painful to keep trying

when was the last time i took a moment for myself
at first it was good with you, and i realized i could be myself
mostly accepted, even with the sadness
the first few nights you held me tightly and comforted me to sleep.

months later you got tired of my constant sadness, of the nights i
couldn't stop crying for no good reason.
the ache in my heart didn't cease when you came into my life
and i think that hurt you.

you threw out my antidepressants claiming i didn't need them anymore
because i had you in my life.

two years later my heart still ache, and part of it was from you.
the pain you caused me, when you belittled me, and called me a crybaby.
before you had been so charming, so caring
and now it was as if you'd been replaced, complacent and apathetic.

when you told me you were no longer in love with me
i fell apart, i apologize, i shouldn't have begged you to stay.
weeks later when you said you didn't want me anymore, i sat quiet
on the couch and accepted it completely.
people grow apart, it's only natural. it's how we live.

i've become content with how things are now
and remembering the person i am, and who i am becoming
without you in my life i can see things more clearly.
i hope you do well in the future and you find someone that
makes you happy again, and that you can make yourself happy.

i hold myself at night when i cry now
and i seem to be sleeping just fine.

no journey is ever easy
or effortless, and i wish i could
tell all these ladies at work
that they don't have to follow these
silly diet fads or weight loss plans
because i understand, miss, ma'am
i was there once, overweight and
so terribly unhappy
i'm only where i am now because
of the time and effort i put into it
spending money and time
on foods and activities
that help me better my body
and my mind
so please don't ask me what food you should eat
or what i did to look how i look
you need to learn it on your own
the want and desire needs to be yours
just please don't starve yourself
because that's not the way to do it

four years ago
my freshman year
i met a boy with dark blue eyes
who added me on myspace
and chatted with me on aim

he didn't really speak to me
or ask me any questions
he only knew what he did
because i talk so much

and somehow
we started dating
which i still don't understand why
because after the first week
i had a feeling in my gut
that i would regret this
in the long run.

we felt the high
and the ecstasy of first love
along with first everything else
including betrayal and agony
the only kind you can feel
when someone you thought
you love does something so
so awful to you.

the first winter we were happy
i think and we made plans for next year
that we broke the majority of
and in the summer we made promises
some that i shouldn't have

a year had passed
and i thought i would
be spending a few more with him
but that winter
i learned that love can grow cold
and freeze over

maybe i had changed too much
or it was him belittling me
telling me that everything i liked
was childish
and a waste of time.

the next year
i had decided that
that would be all i would put up with
i did not deserve this grief
or to be told that
i was too easy.

a friend that morning
had spoken with me and him
and walked with us through the halls
of the beginning of our junior year
and when we were alone
the friend said to me
'your eyes look so dead'

and i will never
forget those words
or forget
his cries on the phone
that night
when i finally
set myself
free

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

x"

letting people in is such a scary thing
my mind becomes occupied with the thought
that i might be too much of
whatever i am
all of the
“what if im too talkative?”
and all of the
“is it okay for me to feel this way?”
and then the thought if it’s okay
to ask for validation that
i truly am loved for what i am

it turns out
all i needed to do
was ask aloud

you're doomed
once you've realized.

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.

getting ready in the morning i see the scars on my thighs
from the days in high school where my life was falling apart
and my skin was my outlet.

the scars are a milk white now, interesting as i'm already quite pale
running my hand over them i can feel the indentation from
where the blade sank in.

i remember the nights where i'd be crying and listening to some
kind of edgy, angsty band and how numb i felt as the
blade swam over my skin.

how good it felt, to have something real that i could validate and
how interesting it is that i no longer crave that pain
instead all i seek is admiration.

thinking back to the time
we had reconciled
i remember how you wanted me
to touch you, and i said no
and you kept asking
asking if you could touch me instead
i kept saying no
but felt guilty, feeling like
i had to please you
to make you stay
remembering this, i wonder to myself
if all of this has been
transactional to you
and i try to check the facts as
i sift through more memories
of the times where love was withheld
and yet i still love you
because i've learned two things
can be true at one time
i can be disappointed,
and still be in love

you're doomed
once you've realized.

growing up you had told me
that i wouldn’t amount to anything
just a lazy *******
my existence meant nothing more
as inconsequential as a lonely ant

ive looked for validation from you
in the forms of other people
a boss, a lover, a friend, a hook up
ive traveled the globe
and even signed away my freedom
to find it

and finally after ten long years
i think ive figured it out
you can go to hell you
******* *******
i don’t need your *******
validation anymore

i shared my secrets, flaws,
insecurities, and vulnerabilities with you
tenderly drawing hearts along your
back and spine with my finger
hearing you whisper
"don't ever leave me"
in my ear, sending chills down my spine
thinking that this love would last forever

four years later and
you are using those secrets
and insecurities against me
throwing vile, cruel words toward me
i am no longer of use to you
and you say i won't be in your life
despite leaving me on all of your
social media

so i have taken the first step
removing you bit by bit
from my life,
someone that can surgically remove me
from their life and replace me a few months later
is not someone that i want
in my life.

blocked from my life now
the only avenue left for you
is by phone, and
deep down i am dreading the day
i see your name pop up on my phone again.

i have learned how
to be alone
since i was a kid
i know how to entertain myself
and find appreciation
in whatever i have
i don't have to fill my time
with things that
don't mean anything to me
just to pass the time
i don't need to fill
the whole inside me
with someone else's
arms
the connections i create
are ones that i want
to nurture
because i wouldn't spend my time
on something
that didn't matter to me
the quiet in my life
is comforting
something i have
always had
and will have for
the rest of my days

there is something comforting in knowing i'm all alone.
lights in the living room and kitchen are all turned on,
keeping the room well lit is important while alone,
and the sounds of the apartment shift and creak
it's a cacophony of fixture and mix tapes
something that i enjoy, something that heats through me
right down to my organs.

when i was a child, my brother was five years older than me
and my father was never home, and my mother was always painting,
which left me a lot of time for myself.
at first i was confused, bored, unsure of what to do with myself,
lonely.
then i discovered that my stuffed animals and beanie babies could speak
and i gave them the power to show me their world, the
beauty in story telling and seeing colours on the ceiling.
staring long enough i could see the shapes move, as if i had just
taken acid.

it's a gift i thank my family for giving me.
the power of being alone means that
i will never be lonely, and that
words will always be with me and i will
always see the colours on the ceiling.

i have no internet
and i'm at the house
of the child i babysit
except he's not a child
he's sixteen
and i have no idea why i babysit him
except that i get paid well
and he's in a wheelchair
so i basically do nothing
the whole entire time.

i've noticed that i talk about myself a lot
when i write and i wonder if that means i'm self-involved
or selfish or something that starts with self
because i hope i'm not or i'll feel quite awful about myself
but there i go again
with those self words.

since i was a child
i felt like i didn't fit in
with all the other
children

i didn't understand
the way they worked
i couldn't wrap my mind
around the way
their minds
worked

and i'd hate to sound pretentious
or as if i'm better than them
because i spent my time reading
and lying about the boys
that didn't actually
throw my flip flops in
the water

i'm not sure
why i wanted their attention
or their approval
and i'm not sure
why i even wanted their friendship
since we never
had anything
in common

but this begs another question
that i can't answer either
which upsets me greatly
and constantly has me asking
"what if"

if i hadn't cared
what the others thought
in middle school
would i have
'gone steady'
with the boy everyone
made fun of
even though i thought
he was cute

but that's all right
because i am glad
with where things are
in my life right now
even if i sometimes
spend nights thinking
about all of those what ifs
because my brain somehow
can't shut off
with all of its
white noise
and troubling thoughts