lizie

lizie 46m

i still remember the first time.
i was fourteen.
things were starting to break.
friends turning distant,
the girls who used to carry me
now looking the other way.

i grabbed a pair of kids’ scissors.
they were blue.
my cheeks were soaked with tears.
i had never done this before,
but i had heard about it.

i put the blade to my wrist.
it hurt.
a lot.
but i did it again.
and again.

we made up the next day.
everything seemed okay again.
but i didn’t stop.
i liked the sting,
going to school with it still burning.

blue scissors turned into
pocket knives,
kitchen knives,
blades from pencil sharpeners.
i cried when nothing came out.

and later,
when my whole arm went numb,
i didn’t stop.
i think i liked that, too.
i don’t know why.

i still have the blue scissors.

lizie 55m

i wish

i wish sadness didn’t feel
like something i had to hide.
that it could just be
without alarms going off.
without threats of white walls
and blank stares.

i wish the boy i love could hold my hurt
without thinking it’s about him.
i wish being broken
didn’t break everyone else.

i wish i was thirteen.
when my best friend lived next door
and the girl down the street still liked me
and the world hadn’t begun
falling out from under my feet.

i wish jazz felt like freedom,
not failure.
i wish i still stood out,
instead of drowning
in the effort it takes
just to stay average.

i wish my world
didn’t end
every
single
day.

lizie 15h

sinking

i thought today
maybe things were feeling better.
a little lighter.

but it’s not true.
not anymore.
things are still heavy.

and im
s
  i
   n
    k
     i
      n
       g

lizie 15h

a note to no one

she told me to cover up the scars.
i told her
no one ever noticed.

she said that couldn’t be true.
but it was.

no one gasped.
no one asked.
they just looked through me,
like pain’s not real
unless it begs.

she says she doesn’t understand.
says i have no trauma.
i guess sadness needs a villain
to be taken seriously.

but what if i’m the villain?
what if the hurt
comes from me?
what if i broke myself
before anyone had the chance to?

what if no one saw
because
they never looked?

lizie 1d

you picked up. you stayed

i called you
when texting felt too heavy,
too many words stuck inside.

you picked up.

i tried to hide the tears,
soft breaths breaking through,
hoping you wouldn’t hear
the weight in my voice.

and still, you stayed.

lizie 1d

i guess i’m broken, then

i was told to open up,
so i did,
just a little.
i peeled back the corner
of something i’d kept quiet
for years.
they smiled,
tilted their head,
asked how long
i’d been “thinking wrong.”
wrong.
as if thoughts were math problems
with a single right answer.
as if feeling too much
is something to be fixed.
they say it’s distorted.
and it’s irrational.
like maybe
if i rewired my brain
to sound more like theirs,
i’d finally be okay.
but this is the only voice
i’ve ever had.
and when it shakes,
when it breaks,
when it screams,
it’s still mine.
they don’t get to label that
a symptom.
if the way i think is wrong,
and the way i feel is worse,
i guess i’m broken, then.

lizie 2d

Untitled

who am i if not sad?
i’m scared to find out.