“I should've known better.”
The mantra of the weekend;
Or rather, the morning after.
Pounding its reminder into my head.

“Next time, it'll be different.”
The rot in my stomach;
Of the mysterious concoction,
Haphazardly mixed together in fun.

“I'll take it slow tonight.”
The first drink kills time;
The second blurs boundaries,
And the rest are a race against time.

“What did I do last night?”
I promise I'm not that girl;
Who flirts her way out of buying her drink,
And into the arms of a stranger.

“I will never drink like that again.”
The false hope that lives in genuine words;
Until that drink goes back into her hands–
And the cycle starts again.

[thank you for loving him first]
for navigating unknown territory
at our most vulnerable and pivotal stage;
at a time when we couldn’t love ourselves-
but foolishly thought we could love another.

[thank you for growing with him first]
not in the physical sense, but in
providing a foundation for him to stand.
how were we to know that one day,
the foundation would break away?

[thank you for hurting him first]
for having the strength to pull away,
when forever became a distant memory.
for taking a piece of his heart
where your happy used to reside.

[thank you for all your firsts with him]
as they offered a lesson, a guide, and
a vision for the love he really deserved;
and how it could exist outside of you.

[thank you for letting him go first]
so he could be my last.

dear five year old me,
cherish the beauty you can see.
because no one tells you,
how the skies eventually turn grey.

cling to the wonder you feel,
and those moments where everything is real.
because one day you’ll look back,
and wish that you could’ve stayed..

young, innocent, naive,
always so open to believe,
that happiness is just the smile on your face.
hopeful, kind, untouched,
don’t forget you’ll always be enough,
baby girl, this world we live in is a tough place.

dear thirteen year old me,
don’t ignore your inner beauty.
because no one tells you,
how hard it is to find once it’s thrown away.

don’t listen to the mean girls’ words,
no matter how deeply they cut or hurt.
because in the end what counts,
is your ability to just walk away.

scared, lost, afraid,
your finger slowly skims the blade,
that slides down your thigh to not leave a trace.
tired, ashamed, confused,
you ask what more you have to lose,
baby girl, the world wouldn’t be the same without your grace.

dear girl listening to this song,
i want you to know i believe you’re strong.
because i don’t think you’re ever told enough,
to believe it’s actually true.

it’s ironic i suppose; the idea that maybe you ever cared enough to take a second to think about how i was doing.
but you’re too consumed in your own made up reality underneath the intoxication and drugs to notice.

and maybe if you had taken that one second when you still talked to me to try and see through the façade i had, you would have noticed the mask.
in one second, you could have seen the faded sparkle in my eyes or force in my smile.

or the way that i said i was fine through my teeth.

i tried to be there for you as often as you’d let me, but how was i to know that you never truly cared?
that outside of direct contact, i don’t deserve the time of day from you.
or at least a response.

i didn’t mean to waste your time.

but i’m done letting you waste mine.
enjoy the world you’ve created for yourself. and whoever you actually take the time to put into it.
i was too broken to exist in my own, but not good enough to be acknowledged in yours.
that’s fine; i’ve re-created what i want and who i am.

and it doesn’t include you.

this is my story from last year. it’s not pretty; but i hope to make it poetic because it deserves that sort of recognition. even though it was hard and i didn’t think about it like that at the time, it has shaped me into who i am now. i have come out stronger, and i am still learning as i go. that’s life.

i remember being so excited for school; that nervous energy of starting something new coursing through my veins as i organized all my school supplies. i was beginning the start of a lifelong career—my classes were finally going to be something i would use forever. i had started training for a half marathon, so i felt as good as i had ever felt about myself. i was taking care of myself physically, emotionally and socially—making friends every weekend and getting out; something i didn’t do freshman year. i just felt like i had a hold on everything.

i was so naïve.
i should’ve seen the signs.

jacob and i had been slipping for awhile.
we were both grasping at straws that had long since disappeared.
i barely heard from him during the day.
we were just a slowly ticking bomb… bound to explode any mo&$%%#

the aftermath wasn’t pretty. i was in a continuous state of denial, happy, confused, hurt, angry, hopeful… never simply one emotion, but everything all at once. i didn’t know who i was anymore. all i had ever been was with him; and before that someone else’s. i didn’t know how to be myself—i had never BEEN just me. so i was lost.

and tired.
and unable to concentrate.
i couldn’t turn to homework the way i could in high school. words wouldn’t stick because i was too busy being lost in the past and what-if’s and maybes. what does one do when the one thing they were always good at was suddenly nothing to them?
they turn to parties and strangers and liquid courage and boys that will hold them at night because they are scared of being alone.
(i just wanted to feel alive.)

but even in those parties and lying next to someone, i was always alone.
it was inescapable.
it would slowly work itself from my head to my chest and squeeze my stomach so hard that i would cry out in pain. and i couldn’t stop. nothing made it better.
(alive shouldn’t feel like this.)
all i could do was cry and try to catch my breath….

until a ray of sunshine came into my life.

i didn’t know it then when i first texted him that he would completely change my life.
that i would be able to feel happy again; and how beautiful a true laugh felt with a genuine smile.
and things were good again.

until winter hit.
the air was as cold as the empty felt inside myself.
there was no joy, no happy; not genuinely anyway. i learned how to fake.
and i feel like i could justify it more if i said i had faked it for myself—but i didn’t.

i did it for everyone else.

i was just a body going through the motions.
my mind was always back in bed, asleep like i was for a good majority of the day.
or lost in the clouds like it was when i was awake.
i wasn’t really present.
(alive seemed like a made-up fantasy.)

and rock bottom for me was lying on the floor by myself,
crying and screaming and moaning and feeling like nothing would ever be okay again;
that no one would come back for me.
i have never felt a fear so real or so intense.
(is this alive?)

but looking back, at least i can be thankful that i was feeling something. i welcomed any feeling that wasn’t empty.
and after this incident, i knew things needed to change.
half a year later, i’m glad to say i’ve finally found my way back.
i know who i am and what i’m not and what i want out of life.
and sometimes the bad feelings come around and try to take what i’ve built.

and some days i let them.

but most days i fight it.
depression is not a one-time battle;
i just take it one day at a time.
(alive is beautiful.)

i'm sure you could imagine,
the new proud parents' joy.
when the doctor finally announced,
"you have a baby boy"

as she held him in her arms,
all their worries were erased.
they didn't know then,
of the troubles they would face.

"i'm sorry i have to be the one to say,
your little boy has cancer.
i know that life seems hard today,
things are always worse before the get better."

endless hours of chemotherapy,
hospitals becoming a second home.
dozens of tests to check his status,
he was watched but felt so alone.

some days he felt big and strong,
and other days trapped in hell.
it was in the little boy's smile,
the way that you could tell.

and though the boy was small in size,
he fought with all his might.
the cancer's strength he matched for awhile,
he put up a pretty good fight.

time of death, 4:12

his mother smoothed down his hair,
and kissed him on his cheek.
the tears rolled down her face,
she'd never felt so weak.

his father felt his son's heart beat,
then fall silent just as fast.
he had been there for his son's first,
and he had felt his son's last.

i'm the wind in your ear,
the goosebumps on your neck.
the ice inside your blood,
the feeling you can't reject.
i'm always on your mind,
but never in your sight.
i'm the solution to your problem,
but the main cause of your plight.
i'm the voice in your head,
but never actually around.
i'm the unsolved mystery,
a book you can't put down.
i'm your image of beauty,
but the catalyst to your pain.
i'm the thing that makes you crazy,
but the sedative that keeps you sane.
i'm the murderer to your heart,
and the stitches that helped you heal.
i'm the constant ache of emptiness,
that lets you know i'm real.
i'm the shadow on a building,
but the source you never find.
i'm the light you shouldn't look at,
the ignorance that makes you blind.
i'm the sparkle in your eyes,
and the happiness in your voice.
i'm the gentleness in your touch,
the reason behind your choice.
i'm your joy and your sorrow,
your happy and your sad.
your jealousy and your peace,
your good and your bad.
i'm the reason that you breathe,
the reason you don't give up.
i'm everything that hurts you,
but also the strength that helps you love.