I hurt

I bleed

I am a human being

I sometimes sit in a hot bath and cry

I feel words that speak

Speak wisdom and individuality

Others find my personality embarrassing

There is a select few who will see more to you

Your glory

Your strength

Your humanity


Those are the ones you should love dearly

Let go of those who want to hate because their insecurities taught them to fear

They need to conquer their own journey

If they win maybe they will gravitate back and you can start over once again

Until then you need to find your own path and let go of them

It is not selfishness but the right to find the direction you were meant to see

You are a human being

Spending a month in a hospital teaches you a lot about people.
The doctor that told me to shave my head or she wouldn't treat me,
The nurses that spent forever chatting to me
And giving me supportive advice about how my illness doesn't define me.
The woman who was given a terminal cancer sentence
And chose not to pay attention to it and defied it anyway.
How she sat next to me on my bed,
Told me that all suffering is valid,
And just because I'm not dying, doesn't mean I don't get to complain.
How she complains more about her skin problems
Than she ever complained about her cancer,
And that's OK, because pain rarely follows rules.
I never even learned her name,
But she gave me the words I hold most closely to me
On those days when I want to fall asleep and never wake up.
I'm allowed to scream and shout and rage against the pain
And the unfairness of it happening to me.
I just have to make sure I know where the line is
Between giving my darkness a voice and pitying myself.

This mind is troubled and hard to find
Muddled by drug and drink
Caught in some manic depressive state
Switching gears
No one to talk to about these demons inside
I know it’s just me talking to myself
But the voice I hear is unfamiliar
It has to be someone else
Trapped in my head
You see because I refuse to believe
That something’s really wrong with me

You wanted to help me
Even when exhausted
And my worst fear that came true,
Didn't push you far away from me.

And you're probably dozing off,
Or looking drowsily at your phone,
But I am so proud to be your
Hummingbird.

I wish you could have seen
The way you made me beam
Tonight.

Three years ago
my best friend died.

He got too close to the water,
they said,
and they named it "accidental".
And that was that.

I never bought that.
I think he just..
gave up.
I couldn't tell you why,
not an answer
you would accept anyway.
Just a feeling that lives
deep in my soul.
A feeling that tells me
that he knew
what his decision would mean,
and he jumped.

Took all my secrets
and demons with him.
He took
all the things
I'd only ever told him,
and he buried them,
then he left me here.
Without him.

I've never felt that kind of pain before.

I thought
I'd felt it all.
But I was wrong.

That night I sat on my floor,
listening to the same song on repeat.
The tears refused to stop,
along with the shakes,
so I got drunk
and tried not to feel.

But that didn't work either.
So I drank more.
Cried more.
Smoked another cigarette

and I tried to write him down.

But I just stared at the screen.
Blank.
Waiting for words that never came.
I think I thought
that if I wrote it down,
it would be too real.
It would mean that he was really gone,
that there was no going back.
And if it was real,
then I would have to miss him.
I would have to let myself feel that..
And I wasn't ready for that.

So I told myself that
I would wait to write him down,
wait until
I didn't miss him so much.

I would wait until the words came.

But they never came.
No words came.
Eventually
I refused to write at all
until I could write my best friend down,
until I could tell OUR story.

But suddenly,
three years had come and gone,
and I didn't miss him
any less,
and I didn't write
any more stories,
and it didn't change anything.

At all.

I knew it
Before you uttered
A single word.

And I knew it
Before the words
Even formulated
in your head.

And sometimes
Its even worse
Because I knew it
Before you did.

But I ******* knew it.