Happy Birthday.
To me.

trusting
“trust me”
but trust me,
trust stings.

trust has to be earned.
or so they say
but for some reason
i hand my trust out
like Halloween candy
right at 7 o’clock.
every word that you tell me,
i believe.
but trusting you scares me.
cause every person i trusted?
abandoned me.
stole from me.
left me wondering,
if I’m as pathetic as i feel
or if i only look it.
i wonder what makes me different from others.
what makes you stop and think
“i wonder how bad i have to hurt her to drop her to my feet.”
you wound me.
not with your words
but your actions are screaming
and i can’t stop listening.
like the sound of my heartbreaking
is on repeat.

(“I wanna put this song on replay. so i can listen to it all day.”
oh Zendaya how i wish i could relate.)

The lights flicker.
Your heart stops.
Your eyes flutter,
As your body drops.

You wonder why
You feel this way.
As you cry
You curse the day.

There’s nothing left,
Or so you think.
Your words are deaf,
As your thoughts blink.

I wish I wasn’t me.
years ago when my sister passed,
I wished it was me.
young and ignorant to the ways of the world.
young yet already wishing to be dead.
I wonder if wanting these thoughts to escape my head
is selfish..
If I believe ‘everything happens for a reason’,
then there has to be a reason.
but the truth is
I really don’t know what I believe in.
if I were to die
I don’t know if my soul would
Sink or Swim
even though
I can’t Swim
and with the world on my shoulders
I’m liable to Sink.

Uncomfortable.
Always moving,
always trying to find
the perfect place.
My Utopia..
Does that that make sense?
Does it exist
in somewhere other than my head?
Is there a world out there
where I don’t end up dead?
A reality where these thoughts
don’t eat away at me like
moths at cloths.
I have ten years worth of holes in me.
Everything I hold in just eats away at me
and I let it.

My Utopia.
What would it be like?
Dark
because that’s where I prefer to be
and quiet
because silence never hurt anybody.
it never hurt me.
a place for me is a place
where I don’t have to hide.
my thoughts
my feelings
my pain.
a place where there’s
always an ear to truly listen.
One that understands without me needing to explain.
If only there was a way I could talk
without my words being swatted down like flies.
I want to not feel alone
for once.
I want to be alone
and not feel alone.
I want to be okay with my own presence.
My own company.
I want My Candle of Loneliness
to be put out before
I am engulfed in the flames.
My Utopia is a place,
a place with no pain.

Words hurt
But yours shouldn’t have to.
The things you say stick to me like a
Tattoo.
I’m a vacuum.
I **** up all the things you say
and it just replays.
You say
things you think you have to say
in ways
that are better left unsaid.
Too bad you can’t UnSay
the things you said
even though I know
you never would.

How come
it is always the ones we hold closest
that is gifted
with the blueprint
of our defeat?
a way to have us
beaten, broken hearted
and down
on both knees.

How is this honest?
How are we fair?
To be clear,
as you sleep
without fear
I sit here and think.
If you had a snore for every tear I’ve shed,
you might never wake up.

Waiting.
Tick tock, tick tock.
Seconds go by.
Minutes, Hours, Days
Pass me by.
Feels like a lifetime has passed.
But, its only been 5 minutes.
Waiting for the bell to ring.
Waiting for the birds to sing.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Waiting until it´s my turn.
My turn to live my life.

A mother’s touch is
suppose to be tender,
one you would lean into.
But, instead
I would flinch.
Not for fear of any physical pain
she could cause me
but only because
she never touches me.

“you are really damaged”
21 years of searching for
a mother’s love
will do that to you.
Searching for that missing piece
and hoping that if you do everything
she wants and everything
you can possibly do to help her
that maybe,
just maybe,
you’ll finish the puzzle and
she’ll love you.
Which is absurd because
she won’t
and she can’t.
How can a mother love her children
when she knows of no love herself?

Cat and mouse..
A game I’ve always hated
but a game I know all too well.
because she always flaunts
what she knows I want
right in my face.
She knows what I crave
and how to make me weak.
My one true weakness,
Family.
Well, the idea of one
because I have never had one before.
A family to call mine?
One that would love me unconditionally
and honestly?
The universe has
a sense of humor after all
and it’s Me.

I feel my body,
clenching.
The tension
is there,
creeping.
this anxiety
is pumping
and it’s bringing
the Calvary.
depression,
the one I can always count on..
Welcome Home.

What is life?
And what makes us alive?
The way we talk? The way we say our ABC's? The way we take insults with a closed mouth? The way we cry when we're hurt, and scream when we're upset? The way we eat, and then cleanse ourselves of the weight, the *solidness? The way we turn to our razors for companionship? Or how about the way we lie in our mommas bed (for those of us who have one) and tell her all about our problems?
Is it the way we spend thousands of hours worrying about that guy who's not even thinking about us? The way we pretend to smile when we'd rather cry? The way we trust with no doubt the people who call themselves our "parents"? The way our blood dances through our body? The way our heart beats when we wish it'd just st-st-stop? The way we blink back our tears? The way the words get stuck in our throats when we get nervous? The way we breathe *in and out, in and out, in and out?
Who has the ability to decide whether we are truly alive or not?
**What is life?
And what makes us alive?

Please tell me why I even bother.
Why do I bother to scramble to find the words to express how I am feeling when all you are going to do is press Ignore?
I feel IGNORED.
Why do I bother to talk about the thoughts that run screaming through my mind when all you’re going to do is Interrupt?
You hate it but I hate it more.
Never being able to finish my sentence is the curse I’m destined to die with.
Never being understood is all I’m meant to be.
Invalid is all I am. Invalid is all I’m meant to be.