all of the inspirational posters
say that you should not
be afraid to be yourself
be unique
be beautiful
be different

but ****** anyhow
that is easy for them to say
with the little kittens
and the multicolored #2 pencils
when they have not walked in
another’s shoes

it is not okay
none of it is okay
you should be very afraid
to be yourself

in a house built out of
your mother’s angry words
and the blatant fact that she
doesn’t accept you
and the disappointment in her eyes
whenever she looks at you
makes you want to have no eyes

Bottom line, depression is a cruel mistress. I know this for a fact. In the worst part of my depression, I didn’t just suffer internally, but externally, too. As in, my personal hygiene went downhill. I hid certain parts of it pretty well. Greasy hair can be hidden with a hat, unbrushed teeth with minty gum, three days of the same Tee shirt with a sweatshirt. What couldn’t be hidden, though, was the state of my room. I could have easily cleaned up the various messes. But, I didn’t. Probably in a wain attempt to get my mother to realize that I wasn’t okay. She didn’t, though, and I was just left with the mess.

charlie bradbury
did you know that the
only time i said i love you
to someone
since mom died
was in a flashback
to the memory of my mother
but that’s because she needed to
hear it
that dad still loved her
and so did i
i loved her so **** much
i wanted to make her proud
i wanted
i don’t know
i guess i wanted to watch her
and dad grow old together
but us hunters don’t get
to make wishes like that
unless we are willing to sell
our souls
and i probably would have
just to have her back
to see dad smile again
so sammy would know what it
was like to have a real family
instead of an alcoholic ******* of a father
and an emotionally stunted
self-destructive mess of a brother

but even
if they all knew my intentions
behind the deal
raising the dead has never been
a good idea
i know that for a fact
and ten years would never be
enough to make up for
decades of not knowing the
soothing touch of a mother’s hand

then you
waltzed into our lives
saved our *****
and as a thank you
we broke your arm
and not for the first time
but you just kept on forgiving me
i wanted to ask why
because i had done you more
harm than good
but then
when you just kept on saying it
through the blood and broken bones and pain
i knew that you weren’t just forgiving me
for hurting you
you were forgiving me for blaming everything
on myself
for not being strong enough to carry
the whole world
for not being able to save
every person

but charlie
i never wanted a little sister
i didn’t need another family member
another person
that i loved with all of my heart
that i would die for
i just couldn’t let you down
that would have killed me

but you
just kept on picking me
up and dusting me off
telling me to keep going
you helped me to believe in myself
and i believed in you too
i loved you
to the point where it broke my heart
because i knew that i couldn’t keep you safe
but you’re not a little kid anymore
you can protect yourself
and i know that
but it’s always nice to have
a helping hand now and then
and that’s what you were for me
that’s what you always will be

“i love you”
“i know”

******
the first time that i saw you
something woke up deep inside me
a thing that i had not felt in so long
it hit me like a lightening bolt
like the first time john got drunk
and took a swing at me for mouthing off
but instead of a bruise
that nobody asked about
because being a hunter causes these kinds
of things all the time
just a casualty of the job
dad said to explain it all away
this thing
it shot through my whole body
starting from my toes
sizzling up my bowed legs
sammy said that they were for the
better to carry the weight of the world
on my shoulders with
and it exploded behind my ribs
but not like a broken rib
this felt good
but in a terrifying way
i was so scared
that i acted the way that i was taught
growing up
in this friggin life
and i stabbed you
god baby i stabbed you
and if i could take it all back
i would fall to my knees in front
of you
and beg you to take me back
to make me whole again
to make me a better man
a better son
a better brother
a man that mary would have been proud of

and
i kept on seeing you
for so many years
you healed my wounds
my cuts and my bruises
my broken bones
you placed your hands on me
my face
my shoulder
you made me believe
in angels
even though god is absent
you made me believe
in sammy too
even more than i already do
and you told me
time and time again
that i deserved to be saved
you showed me
with a determined set to your shoulders
fists and teeth clenched in
naked and vulnerable honesty
that even sinners can be redeemed
but since
“****** dean you are not a sinner”
that i didn’t need to be redeemed
“i saved the world
i saved you
i saved sammy
i saved you and you and you
it was always you
when all i wanted to do
was lay down and die”

you
just kept on giving and giving
emptying yourself
for me and my kind
this world full of godless heathens
you rebuilt me
from the ground up
made me into a good man again
but it began to take it’s toll on you
your grace dulled
and your eyes didn’t shine as bright
though they still lit up when
you saw me
and sammy
but your shoulders
they sagged beneath your
ridiculous trench coat
that yeah i kept in my trunk
for that hellish time without you
and i cried into the dusty fabric
when i found the picture of sammy and i
in the pocket
and your hardships
and selflessness
they showed through
your tough demeanor
and i’m an angel you ***
mantra but i know what it is like
to hurt
to want to die
but you always made your mistakes
with the best intentions at heart

and
all of your scars
and wounds
because being human hurts
and the drugs
because you wanted to see
the colors again
only made me love you more
i wanted to keep you safe
and even in the midst
of your insanity
you said
“you know me
always happy to bleed for
the winchester”

but
****** cas
i wish you had let me
bleed for you
maybe just once
i would have gladly
carried you
when you were too tired to walk
and et wouldn’t go home
because he loved his human charges too much
and we love you too
cas
we love you too

be aware of me
be afraid of me
be terrified ******
look at me
from a safe distance
i am the open wound of child abuse
though i am no longer a child
it has not yet stopped
i was left alone
and now i am not only an open wound
but a rotting and festering wound

look at me
but do not make a sound
do not breathe
do not even say a word
i do not want your apologies
or your ******* excuses
because i know that you saw the
cuts and the blood
the bags under my eyes
and eventually the jutting bones of my hips
my ribs
like cage bars
struggling to rip through stretched taut skin
the bumps of my spine
and you did not hug me anymore
perhaps you were afraid of hurting yourself
on my sharp edges

and i got so cold
all skin and bones
mostly bones at that point
even a hand to the hot burner
did nothing to stem the chill
and my stick thin arms
elbows like bowling *****
could not wrap around myself
hard enough and close enough
to chase away the icy winds
i shivered for so long
but you took no heed

i am still shivering
but now i have become accustomed
to it
it is all i know
so now
i do nothing to stop the chill

step one:
don’t come out
in any way
keep your mouth shut
about your sexuality and your gender
because really
as you will come to notice
the cuts and scars on your wrists
and the suicide attempts under your belt
will be way more bearable than the disgust
that your mother holds in her eyes
in the downwards tilt of her mouth
when she looks at you

step two:
keep your mouth shut
about everything
even if your mother sees what
you are doing to yourself
how you are slowly whittling yourself
down to the very core of your being
deny the empty pill bottles
and the blood in the sink
a red red ring around the shower drain

step three:
deny everything
the bloodstains on your long sleeves
the sweatshirts and layers upon layers
worn on hundred degree days
all of the empty pills bottles
the alcohol and cigarettes on your breath
the bags under your eyes
hospital bracelets taped into old notebooks
suicide notes hidden inside every word
and every thought and every breath
the urge and the need and the want and the
promise of a sweet darkness
you hunger for it
it courses through your veins

step four:
remember that it is all your fault
it is your fault for being born
for being abused
for more than half of your life
the depression
the anxiety
the insomnia
the self-harm
your mother’s alcoholism
the smell of **** on your clothes
the coffee stains on her teeth
because she needs some kind of drink
just to look at you anymore
it is your fault for wanting to die
it is your fault for being this way
everything is your fault
you are to blame for all the
wrongs that are plaguing this world
and you will spend so many years
and countless sleepless nights
so many hospital visits
and therapists
and pill after pill after pill
trying to fix a body and a mind and a heart
that your mother destroyed

step five:
learn to love yourself
find friends and make them your new family
learn to accept yourself
be proud of your scars
and the bags under your eyes
the ground-down teeth
the shaky hands
because even messy teeth can smile beautifully
and even shaky hands can hold someone tightly
or yourself
don’t be afraid to hold yourself
because sometimes you are all that you have
revel in the feeling of being alone
but rejoice about being with friends
let yourself heal

step six:
remember that you are not a monster
you are a human being
and you do not have to be
your mother’s little boy or little girl
if you don’t want to be
you are not other’s failings
or what has been done to you
these have shaped and molded you
into who you are today
they taught you how to survive
in a cruel cruel world
let your wings grow
so big that they cover you and everyone
and everything that you love and hold dear
hold your own hand
wipe your own tears
but also don’t be afraid to let other people
do those things for you
and most importantly
don’t forget to let yourself live again

he carries the forest
in the rolled up cuffs
of his black slacks

the finely creased lines
right down the middle of each leg
have now turned to wrinkles

the rocks and the twigs
deep puddles of rain
soak and scratch his ankles

what once were proud and powerful
wings now drag behind him
burned black from his shame of falling

there are holes in his shoes
but he harbors the promise of the sun
shining again between his bare toes