The faucet seems to be leaking
and the drops of water drip
to a beat and my heart sings to it

the birds chase the whistling wind
and my hair it dances to it

and time continues, my nails
grow on and grow on

how long will i grow?
until i become a skeleton in
your closet
how long will i last?
before i rot under your shadow.

sooner or later the leaky faucet
will run dry, then my heart will
go off tune.

the wind had gone missing and
all my hair had fallen out

but time will go on
and even when i have stopped going
on my nails will grow
in to the ground

and in the end, after everything had stopped.
you still haven't returned.

Today, I will be brave.
I will admit to the fact that I still haven't found that happiness I've been searching for.
It could be the fact that I haven't looked hard enough, or maybe I've just been looking too hard.
It could be the fact that there's a hormone in our bodies called serotonin, but my therapist says that I don't produce enough and that's why I have this thing that she calls depression.

So I take pills to make me feel better and that might be weird, you can think that if you want because the truth is that I think I'm weird too. Sometimes I think my weirdness is good, I can make people laugh if I really want to and I think that's pretty cool but there's also a bad weirdness to me that makes me feel really sad even though my life truly isn't all that bad but I can't help it. I can't just tell myself that everything's going to be okay because sometimes I don't even think I believe that anymore.

But today, I will be brave.
I will admit to the fact that yes, I have scars. But you know what? I have a birth mark on my right leg. I have freckles on my arms, I have ten fingers and a heart that pumps blood into my lungs and my lungs help me breathe. I have brown eyes and approximately one hundred and fifty hairs growing out of my eyelids that protect them from dust.

Yes, maybe I have purposely tried to hurt myself but so what? People say that whatever doesn't **** you only makes you stronger. Well I must be pretty **** powerful because every day is a war between life and death and I may not think that I'm beautiful, or smart, or worthy, but I have a broken heart that's still beating and a terrifying mind that is still able to think about the children in Africa and the people suffering from cancer and the lonely girl in my class that I wish I had the courage to talk to and tell her that we are all human. We may not feel that we deserve to be alive but we have blood coursing through our veins and purity in our souls and mouths that are capable of speaking every single language in the world and brains that hold an infinite amount of knowledge and bones that allow us to move and hearts that can love.

So please, be brave.
Put the gun down. Step away from the bridge, throw the pills away, untie the knot and stay with us. Use your bones to lift your hand and place it to the left of your chest and feel the vibration of the most important ***** in your body pulsing, keeping you alive. And that, my friend, is called purpose. You are still here despite everything that's ever happened to you. You survived the day when your best friend stopped calling and the day you waited two hours for that person who never showed up and the day you got picked up early from school to have your parents watch you get beat up on the playground and that's the day when they realized that their daughter is a loser but it's okay because you survived. You ignored the monster in your mind that is constantly knocking on doors but never being let in because you had the courage to say "stop. I deserve to be happy. I deserve to feel good about myself."

You are not a freak. You are not a loser. You are not fat, you are not ugly, you are not stupid. You are sixty percent water, sixty-five percent oxygen, eighteen percent carbon and one hundred percent human. Do not hate your body, you're beautiful. Do not hate your scars. Love them. Learn from them. Be the person who can say "yes, life was a battle and I didn’t come out untouched. I was beaten down and torn apart and bleeding from the skin and the heart. But I won." You conquered the bloodiest war, and you are so brave.

Yes, life is full of grief, and tragedy, and so much pain. Life is full of evil people and sickness and days where all you want to do is just get out of this place with so much hatred and cruelty and unfairness. But I have seen someone helping a stranger on the sidewalk, children holding doors open for the elderly, and love. So much love. And that's gotta be enough. We have to find a reason. We have to discover that one thing that will save us; that one good thing in this world that will give us hope. Hope that some day, things will be better.

But today, we will be brave.
Braver than yesterday, yet not as brave as we will be tomorrow. We will wake up with a smile on our face, and we will look in the mirror and say to ourselves:

"We are not our parents, we are not our siblings, or our teachers, or our friends, or our enemies. We are only ourselves. But one day, we will become doctors, we will become writers and lawyers and activists and dancers and rock stars. We will be mothers and fathers and lovers. We will not be perfect. But one day, our bruises will heal and our scars will fade and our pain will lessen and our smiles will become genuine. We will admit to the fact that bad days happen, but we will have so many good days and those are the ones that matter. We will not be our past, we will not be our mistakes, we will not be our fallen tears or our heart aches. We will be human, and one day, we will change the world."

Fope



Fope is a word I created with fear and hope.

It kind of makes me laugh.

I have fope.

My fear is having no acceptance and not being able to see the one I can't help but to love ever again.

My hope is dying each more everyday because my fears are in the way.



I need to get rid of a lot of fear.

My fear is what is destroying every last bit of hope I have.

Fear and hope are like fire and ice; angels and demons.



I watch the world go by while I'm stuck in my own confinement of fear.

This fear that is destroying me needs to destroy itself and leave me alone.

I know fear can be a good, but not this kind.

This kind is what gives me nightmares and the thoughts that make me hurt myself.



I want hope.

I want it now.

Hope that it will be okay in the end.

I want my fear distinguished.

when my security
shatters
into sand scattered on the concrete

when my face
burns, melts
into the many little bones
holding it together

when my resolve
scampers down the walk
its leash finally tattered enough to be broken

when my eyes view yours
as they would migraines,
blinking away every fantasy of us together for fear of
pain or nausea or both

when I find myself laboring to
smile, nod, speak
as though the receptors telling me to
obey and interact have lost touch
with their synapses

when you ask me if I'm okay
and I'm struggling under your hand
as you hold me under the surface of my insecurities

and I just say, "Yes."

You ever feel that?
Stomach turning for what you have done, felt like doing or following through?
The next day you ask yourself why?
What made me this way?
A person I do not recognize anymore.
Someone who reacts and just flows with the go.
Or is is it goes with the flow?
Just a shell of a person I once knew.
Will I find her again?
Wish she would come back to me.
Perfect mother, perfect friend, perfect wife.
Maybe that is it.
No one can be perfect.
I tried too hard.
Someday this person I was will will appear to me.
Come back and make me feel whole again.
One day I will not make decisions based on anyone else and their desires or what I think will make them happy.
Now I can think clear, what about me, the shell is hard, it is empty can not be reborn.
Just a empty shell.