I didn't realize how much it hurt
Until the next morning when the toxins escaped my blood.
I didn't realize that blood had pooled in my foot,
Leaving the nastiest of all bruisers.
I didn't realize how it had happened,
But I knew it had been done by someone else.
I didn't realize how much pain it caused,
Then felt the pain when I hit it against the door jamb.

I didn't think that it was broken
I didn't think that going to the hospital was necessary
I didn't think that I should stop running to let it heal
I didn't think it was as bad as it was...

People have had worse then broken foots,
And so I am grateful to only have a broken foot
Because having no hands would be worse
Having no hands mean having no expression through writing
Having no hands means not being able to talk without words
Having no hands is much worse than a broken foot.

So I will give into the pain,
Acknowledge the bruise
And realize that all of this was caused by a girl who had one too many shots
And will live with my punishment
Of a broken foot

all i want to do more than anything right now is to just lay in bed and dive deep into the novels of jane austen. she is one of the most brilliant woman writers of her time and when i leaf through the pages i feel as if she is sitting next to me in a rocking chair reading her stories to me. i wish i was jane austen.
intelligent, brave, independent, sophisticated, mature, but most of all single. she never married and learned that to love oneself is harder to find then the love of another.

if i have to read one more ******* love poem, i think i really will *****
all over my keyboard
and on the person sitting next to me.
it makes me sick to see these girls that cannot realize
that all the love that they need from life
is found within themselves.

i know it is great to cuddle up against someone
and feel their body heat against your own
and wonder if he or she could be the one
but is it not great sometimes to just lay naked with yourself?

I cannot decide how I feel
And I know this poem is going to **** more than listening to bad singing
But I just need to word *****
Life is a complete **** show
And yet we keep trying to improve it
Trying to improve ourselves
Fixing the mistakes of the past,
Or making them worse.

At the end of the day,
There are still people that are sad
There are still people that are mad
There are still people that hate
There are still people that make me wonder what could make them see the world the way they do.

But yet, I love living
Because I love myself
And I guess what I am trying to say is...

I wish someone would love me back.

Am  I the only one that appreciates the act of vomiting?
It is the one action where your body is cleansing itself,
And at the same time you would rather be dead.
It is beautiful,
The weird texture of slightly processed food that passed back from where it came,
The sound of purging oneself
But in the end, everything is better than where it started
And balance is restored.