"I've been torn from the cloth of my people" I told my parents
A night prior I had unlatched my symbolic necklace
I told myself that I was finished
Finished because organized religion hadn't spoken to me
Prayers and holidays never elated me like they did everyone else
Not for lack of trying
I've lit candles
Opened presents
Gone to my house of worship
Associated myself with those of the same religion
But why?
Because my parents told me to?
I'm too old for that to be a reason
I look at the scripture and I don't believe it
I've prayed in houses of worship for hours
Every weekend
Praying for health or happiness or love
Even though I may not get everything I want
It's not my reason for not believing in a higher power
What do you mean "God"?
Am I supposed to defend my "people", just because they're my "people"?
I can't do it anymore
I'll listen and hope that one day I'll believe in God
As for now
I'll look to science and literature for guidance
Maybe one day I'll lay that necklace around my neck again
But not today

Complacent with regret
things i should've done
          places i should've seen
people i should've spoken to
     dinner i should've eaten
           medicine i should've taken
shirts i should've worn
     friends i should've spoken to
pain i should've addressed
          lips i should've kissed back
dreams i should've followed
     tattoos i should've designed
shoes i should've walked in
          poetry i should've written

You tell me to lock the car doors because we're in a bad neighborhood
I don't
Because perhaps something bad will happen
Maybe I'll be taken away and tortured
But it seems impossible that anywhere is worse than here
I don't turn on the alarm anymore
I feel unsafe regardless, so what's the point
You tell me to lock all the doors
Except the lock to my soul and emotions and thoughts
But I've already locked that door and disposed of its single key

I worry that the only reason I have to write is because no one will listen to me
I can't leak my thoughts to my psychologist or psychiatrist or parent because I know that my words aren't safe and that legality triumphs anything I say
I know that I'm like lava at its boiling point, about to erupt
I know that I'm self destructive and that things are only getting worse
I have so much to say, maybe if I told the entirety of the truth, I could be helped
But I fear the corrupt system too much
And I don't want to say anything to my parents because they have watched my prolonged mental distress and they have seen my breakdowns and hysterical fits and they've heard my screams
I've been medicated
SSRIs and Xanax and Ativan and Prozac and Klonopin and Lexapro
I've spent hours in a therapist's office, only to censor my life and hear a psychology major regurgitate everything I already know
I can't stand it anymore
I want to be high on **** forever and laugh at nothingness
I want to be drunk to the point where I forget that life is even a thing
I want to kiss his lips and touch him every moment of the day because I'd feel loved even if I wasn't
I hate what has happened
I hate what is happening
I hate that I've changed
I hate how hard I try because the payoff never seems to pay off
And that I try to keep changing but everything isn't enough and everything won't ever cut it
I don't know what to do
I need endorphins and serotonin and beta-blockers and benzos
I need to know that this isn't a never ending cycle
I need to know that what I'm feeling is temporary and that this isn't what my life will be like
I need to tell my therapist and my doctor and my psychiatrist that I don't know what to do anymore and that the thoughts that control me are no longer bearable because I know that I want to live
I know however, that if I say the wrong thing, my words will be reported to DCFS and I could be baker acted and I don't want that to happen
So all I have in the end are my thoughts, killing me inside every moment of everyday
Tearing me apart like my lungs can no longer expand
Like my heart can no longer pump
Because my mind controls everything, and everything is in flames

I have felt abandoned ever since you left me sitting alone after school on my birthday
So when I woke up after my surgery, it wasn't surprising that you weren't there
You broke me on that day
My thirteenth birthday is representative of the disdain I feel toward you
And I sit here, at 6:15, you said you'd be home at 4:00
Although I'm angry at you, I'm angrier at myself...for thinking that you could keep your word
I've felt neglected for 5 years
People really never change
Thanks, Mom

An old Florida home
Mango tree in the back yard
Hanging over our patio
When May comes
The Mangos are ripe
As ripe as the school children are for summer
As ripe as the reflection of the sun
The sun’s brightness is blinding
And every time we open our eyes
After having stared at the sun
Our perspective on the world is different
Our change of perspective is not conscious
When it rains
It’s fresh
Fresh like dew on a daisy
Fresh like a daisy sitting in the hair of a girl in love
A girl in love
It sounds foolish
That we accept such a complex notion
There aren’t any noncomplex concepts
An explanation doesn’t exist
I could explain for hours
Explaining wouldn’t mean anything
Explaining wouldn’t mean anything more than the coming of May
Or the passing of summer
Even the new beginning of fall
Fall to the ground
Be with the soil
Nothing is forever