when i told you i had loved you all this time
you said you had no idea
and that makes sense because
while i was looking at you with loving eyes
you were looking at her the same way

You don’t know me.
You don’t even realize 
that something’s wrong,
that I’m not the little girl
I used to be.
You don’t realize 
that the bandaged “mosquito bites”
on my  legs
are self-harm scars 
that I’m too ashamed
to let you see. 
You don’t realize 
how much it stings
to watch almost every person 
I’ve ever cared about 
leave.
You don’t realize 
that I still feel guilty
every time I eat.
You don’t realize
just how much I smoke
and how much I drink.
You don’t even realize
that you don’t know me.

we think we’re made of numbers. percentages on tests,
pounds on a scale,
likes on a photo,
price tags on clothes.
but we’re not.
we are made of love and happiness and they way we laugh.
we’re made of good memories and late nights and past-curfews.
we have more substance than numbers.
you’re not what you look like.
you’re the music you listen to,
the shows you watch,
the art you make,
the flowers in your hair,
your favorite blanket.
you’re not the pimple on your nose
or the pudge on your stomach.
You’re not your thighs or your teeth.
you’re the color of your hair,
you’re your favorite band,
you’re the mismatch socks you wear
You’re what you love, you’re not what you look like or the body you are in.

they told me not to sip too much from the solo cups
if I didn’t want to get ***** tonight.
the feminist issue here is not keeping up
but keeping low, keeping unnoticed, 
staying as safe as that moldy orange in the Safeway,
never gonna get plucked up and ***** that way.


they told me not to indulge my senses and enhance my intoxication 
levels at risk of decreasing my chances of 
survival against a ******
attacking me.


they told me I feel like I need to keep up with the guys with my drinks,
match my stack of cups to theirs, and I just think 
that’s *******, I just want to drink my ****** beer,
but they said that’s how I’ll get *****
well maybe I binge on a lot of bad habits.
I pile them up on the CVS counter like a checklist of things not to do

smoke, spend too much money and time on ebay bidding on
vintage rings and things I’ll never need, eat a row of oreos out of
my roomate’s care package,
and drink too much at the occasional
party where I fraternize with the males from planet greek,
but does that make me guilty for getting *****?


today I woke up feeling like a damaged cause,
like a present that fell out of the back door of a UPS truck going 
75 miles per hour on the highway in East Tennessee
and I never got to my destination.
should I have buckled my seat belt tighter?


society makes me feel crazy for thinking I can try to prevent
a violent act of maddening hate against a woman’s body,
or maybe a man’s, let’s not discriminate,
brought on by alcohol, late night musing, and punch bowl brewing.

maybe they should tell the rapists to keep their pants zipped 
and their ***** to themselves unless they are requested.

keep your hands in your pastel short pockets and 
let me go on with my business of being a proud, righteous woman.

On my right thigh is the most honest piece of art I have ever created.
You may call it my masterpiece,
Because the finished product
was created from years and years of major and minor additions.
****** brushstrokes that mark each time the phrase “not good enough” rang too heavy in my ears. 
Sick, faded tallies of scars that tell the story of my life the way some parents tally the heights of their children on the kitchen wall. 
But instead of growth these lines mark failure and unlike a child impatient to mature,
Each line makes me sick to my stomach for the regression it represents.
Lines and lines of railroad track designs left in the indelible ink of imperfection.
An autobiography written in the hieroglyphics of my sorrow,
Wounds sealed like an ancient tomb but with a map of scars proving that once these grounds were holy,
Governing my life like a pharaoh with a birthright.
A visual representation of a feeling constantly fought and lost
An unavoidable reminder that yes, sometimes the scariest enemy I have to face is myself and here are the marks left behind when the demons of my past manage to claim a brief but ferocious victory over my self control.

Now, I am a perfectionist.

This means by the time I was old enough to understand my shortcomings I had figured out that no lesson stings in your memory quite as much as when you start using blood instead of ink
When you let heartache become your muse and self loathing your mistress, 
and suddenly you’re imprisoned by the adrenaline of freeing warm red paint from behind a soft **** canvas.
The first time I felt the release of a razor on my skin, I was gripped with an infatuation strong enough to break the programming of nature and turn my own body against itself as my skin became the victim of my own hands. 
Heartache after heartache I eased the pain,
Becoming michael angelo with a thin metal paintbrush and a sistine chapel that burned when the shower was too hot.
Hiding my latest work of art under long pants and excuses.
Finding love only in the dark because what if he sees my skin and realizes that some days I can’t even love myself?
On my right thigh is the most devastating piece of art I’ve ever created. 
You may call it my Achilles heel,
Because the finished product, which I shamefully admit,I do still edit occasionally,
was created from years and years of marveling over the beauty of the world but never learning how to see the beauty in a blank canvas.
Cherish your beautiful blank canvas.

music.
there is no description for it
i could spend endless amounts of time 
thinking of every word that fits it

but the only one that fits,for me is

alive.


music makes me feel alive.


bass pounding, words screaming

i wish i could dance all day and all night

the music urges me, it tells me
to sing as loud as i can
and 
dance as hard as i can
soft guitar, voices whispering

the voices penetrate my mind 
the rhythm and melody raise goosebumps

tears in my eyes.
from pain?
happiness?

i don't even care.


I lose myself.

when music is on, I am gone.

I have left this world and entered
another one.
a better one.

a world full of endless love and beauty 
in this world,
anything is possible 
and I have a voice that angels would be jealous of

in this world, my dance enchants every person for miles

in this world, I dance on top of clouds


without music, there is no world

it is empty,
dark
and
 i am lost

instead of color,
it is merely 
black and white

there are few memories made

no singing with windows down

no dancing with hairbrush in hand

no songs to sing every word to

without music, there is no feeling
 of being alive

no feeling of anger,
sadness,
and complete
 bliss.



music is my soulmate.

my one true love

and we are going to live a long

and happy life together.

To eat or not to eat that is the question?

Seems like the journey to the answer is the source of my depression.

Obsession.

Stressed out.

No doubt.

This is hell.

Touch the bones 
As we speak in playful tones about my ill pains

Seems as if everyday I struggle with the same thing
.
This disorder has me in chains 

Doing strange things for minor relief

Crazy how fourteen years of grief

Yet I still count the calories of air

Combing out hair 

The stress causes the remains of my life to break into pieces 

Slices of happiness never lasts seems as
I’m bathing in my own blood bath

The challenge is to finish last 

Slow down the binge 

Eat normal like your friends 

Repeat.

Think I can break habit just because it’s the right thing to do?

You think I enjoy this relationship with food?

I’d divorce my past and marry your future if it meant I’d be okay 

But I remain in this mess
I began when they told I’d be fat again.

Tell a friend 
I let weight meet me again.

Feels like a sin to some how feel joy.

**** the dreams of this skinny beast.

Hug the cookies and drink the wine 

This is the cry of a disordered mind. 

Welcome to my inner thoughts

My illness greets you.

Leave your sanity at the door for you wont need that silly thing anymore.

Now eat until you can’t move then starve yourself times two. 

Make the grades because if you’re intelligent then they remain away 

Telling you how much they wish their body looked like mine 

Silly envy I here all the time 
I wonder if they knew my fears 

Would they escape?

But much like me, 
Once you figure things out it’s much too late.

These cuts I make
Are small compared to my real pain
My wounds go deeper
Than any blade can cut
And they leave bigger marks
Than the simple scars
Blood flows out of my wounds
Yet I live on
My heart still pounds its steady beat
Even as I scream
My heart cries out for help
As do my lips
I will continue to cut and cry
Clutching to the knife
Clinging for dear life
Holding the handle steadily
At the end, a blade, quite deadly
Sinking the metal into your skin
To relieve the pressures within
Cuts deeper, longer
Slices steeper, stronger
Anger drips unto the ground
Anguish leaves your vocals bound
Tired of this numbing feel
Though the pain of it all is quite real
As the final droplets fall
You find that you have hit a wall
With the final breath you’ll take
Plunge the blade, your body breaks

I love you.
I will never abandon you like everyone else.
Never would I hurt you,
Unless you disobey me.
For I own you.
You are my property.
Like a little teddy bear I cuddle
And squeeze you until your stuffing pops
Out from behind your eyes.
Your beautiful eyes.
Watch and observe.
Observe your body, disgusting.
I provide goals for you.
Something to do, a challenge to accept.
No matter how many times you cut the cord,
We will forever be attached.
I, as a newborn
Feeding off all that is you.
Or I, as your mother,
Protecting you and entrapping you, inside my womb.
Our lives depend on each other.
We are one.
United through your blood.
Your every breath.
I am your best friend.
Loyal and honest.
As long as you have me,
You need no one else.

We live in a world filled with stereotypes.
Stereotypes that make us ashamed of who we are.
There’s a woman in my neighborhood who wears tight clothing and high heel shoes but that doesn’t mean she’s a ******.
There’s a boy in my class who listens to rap music and wears baggy clothes, but that doesn’t mean he’s out on the street selling dope.
There’s a girl in my class who rarely says to words and get’s straight A’s, but that doesn’t mean she’s a goody goody.

People ask us all the time of who we think we are,
but it doesn’t matter to them because before we can even digest the question and regurgitate the answer they have already made their mind up of who they think we are.

Some people are considered a brain.
Some a trouble maker
or a ****.
A princess
or a ******
But the truth is we are all smart, just in different ways.
Everyone of us has some athleticism in us.
Everyone one has gotten into some trouble.
We have all had are princess or prince moments.
And everyone of us is weird,
some people are just better at hiding in it.

You remember my neighbor I told you about?
She dresses like that, not because she is trying to sell herself
but because when she was younger she got bullied and no one ever noticed her because she never had designer clothes because her mother had no job and her father left when she was 4. And ever since then she made herself a promise that she would make sure people noticed her.
And that boy with the baggy clothes?
He wears those baggy clothes to cover up the cuts and bruises his father comes home from the and had one to many drinks.
And the girl who get’s straight A’s and doesn’t say much?
She get’s those straight A’s because if she doesn’t she gets a straight hand across the face and she doesn’t talk because she has sever anxiety.

So the next time you point and laugh at someone remember that they’re 3 fingers pointing back at you.
And the next time you assume something about something remember that when yo assume yo make an *** out of U and ME.

Deep down a rabbit’s hole
Lies a strange and wonderful place
Where there is no such thing as time
Or sanity or space

You fall into a room
Where there’s a drink that can make you small
A door so very little
And a cake that can make you tall

A garden where flowers can talk
Where a smart mouthed caterpillar make smoke rings
An island where dodos live
And where birds and sea creatures sing

Down the road live a hatter and a hare
Their cakes and tea are the very best
Both so mad and very insane
Asking why a raven is like a writing desk

In a palace lives a Queen
Who is very short tempered
And with just four little words
She can have your head dismembered

A yard where they use flamingoes and hedgehogs
To play a game of crocket
And forests where bread-and-butterflies
And rocking-horseflies come out and play

Up a tree lives the Cheshire Cat
Who slowly disappears
Telling a young, blond haired girl
Almost everyone is mad here

In this place, it makes sense
That what it is it wouldn’t be
And what it wouldn’t be, it would
Logic of childish insanity

So you are cordially invited
To this place so eccentric and grand
Where nonsense is your guide
To this kingdom called Wonderland

Oh,

New York,

Look at what You've
Done.

This girl,

She wasn't supposed
To fall in 
Love.

She's lost in the lights,

And blinded by your beauty.

Now She'll never leave.

Nothing to fear,
Evenings so great,
When all the lights go out---

Yesterday just a small town girl & in
One moment a big city girl;
Running not walking;
Keep on dreaming.

Never Neverland is the place where dreams come true
Where you don’t have to be serious, don’t have to grow up
Where Peter is the one to follow and ensures that the everlasting imagination is forever
You can run around in your underwear and no one would notice,
Go get worms by the fireside and tell them to come play
Astronauts, doctors, photographers are all dreams reachable
In Never Neverland you are safe from teenagers torment
Or weight weighing you down, every time you count the calories of a *******
Never Neverland is a place of wonder, a place of intrigue
And where memories don’t fade, everything is everything
And everyone is part of some huge inner circle
Giggling and building forts

They told me there is no "I" in team.
I am an athlete.
I am an individual.
I am strong.
I am weak.
I have desires, hopes, and dreams.
I have goals.
I have fears.
As a team my opponent will never see my weaknesses,
Only my strengths, never my fears,
Only my goals as they unfold before them.
I am not afraid that my team will see my fears, my hopes, dreams or desires.
I trust my team to an unlimited level.
I am not afraid that my team will see my faults, because with them I overcome my faults.
With them I am fearless, with them I have hopes and dreams.
With my team I am not weak, I do not have strength of one athlete but many combined, focused, and dangerous to my un-united opponent.
I become my team and my team becomes me.
I do not judge, and I am not judged.
I have a goal, and the team has a goal.
They always told me there is no "I" in team.
They were wrong...
I am the team; I become the team; the team became me.
The team becomes an entity unto itself.
The team is strong, creative, compassionate, caring, authoritative, disciplined.
The team absorbs "I" and then there is an "I" in team.
The "I" becomes part of something much more powerful.
They were right: there is no "I" in team.
But there is a "team" in "me."

hey loser
where you going fatty
you’re so ugly
you’re gonna die alone
what’s the point of you anyways
you’re so pathetic
you’re such a freak
you’re worthless
stupid
*****
****
annoying
ugly
go **** yourself
sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.
somewhere out there someone is afraid to go to school
thinking they can’t face this again
and again.
somewhere out there someone is hiding behind lies                
suffocating in your stereotypes.
somewhere out there someone is starving for perfection
wasted meals, wasted potential, wasting away
and they think “I’m wasted but, am I perfect yet?
somewhere out there someone can be in a room full of people
but, never feel more alone
like they are invisible to the world
sticks and stones
you’re breaking my bones
why won’t you just let me be
who do you think you are
telling me what I should and should not be
how do you think that makes me feel
i feel alone
i feel worthless.
sticks and stones may break your bones but words will never hurt you
but words carry weight 
so much weight
as if an elephant is sitting upon my chest
it’s pulling me down
i am drowning
i am gasping
struggling to breathe
you’re watching me drown
this sea of misery and pain surrounds me
consuming me
i can’t fight it
i just want to wake up from this nightmare
i’m sorry i am not perfect
i’m sorry i wasn’t enough
i’m sorry that those words finally hurt me more than a broken bone ever could.

I thought I would grow up into a world where everything was care-free
I didn’t think it would be hard to be  me
But there is a secret hidden in the most beautiful of pictures
a secret so secret that it's hard to figure
I grew up into a world where I am surrounded by thin
this is the secret that is hidden within
I'm constantly told that I have to be perfect
but is killing my own body really worth it?
The message being sent to women today
it's that you have to look pretty to get your way
When did it become all about looks?
Haven't you ever heard the phrase 'don't judge the cover of books'
The media has tried to give the public a voice
but all it's doing is giving us a choice
These images we're surrounded by, they all look the same
is there anyone out there who is willing to say that in who you are, there is no shame?
Photoshop doesn't make me want to buy what's in your ad
all it really does is make me extremely mad
I'm mad because advertisers lie about what they sell
that shirt won't fit anyone bigger than 2 from what I can tell
Because they had to make that model appear impossibly skinny
in order to show off their bikini
I'd like to see people in ads that represent the real society
people that are of all shapes and sizes that illustrate variety
What really pushes me over the edge
is that I'm told that my curves are what people dread
No one has the right to tell me what my body should be
I shouldn't be ashamed to walk around being me
Instead I walk in public feeling like I've done something wrong
I've been brainwashed to think that because I'm not thin, I'm not strong
But now it's time for me to stand up for those who need to hear this
you control the happiness you feel and you don't want to miss it
There is so much more beauty that one simply can't see
there's a type of beauty that's more than just skin deep
'Beauty' is knowing who you are inside
is worth unleashing and showing off with pride
It's hard to overcome something that has caused so much damage
but believing in your own beauty can release all your baggage
Who wants to see a monotone society?
we need to embrace each other's variety
The more people you get to know
the more shades of beauty will be shown
Then you'll see the secret that isn't so hidden
the secret that your own beauty will never be forbidden
Whether you're thin, round, short, or tall
it doesn't even matter at all
So what if my thighs touch, so what if yours don't?
Let's get real people, the media is a hoax
Because that mold that we are told to fit
I’m sorry, but it simply does not  exist.

Sometimes I can feel you growing,
just to be clear I’m speaking figuratively not literally.
I can see your soft ivory skin, your freckle kissed face, and bright blue eyes
that reflect the sun with whim and adventure,
my beautiful baby girl.
When you join my years from now i’ll build you up like a mountain.
I’m going to make you everything I wasn’t,
confident.
I’m going to teach and achieve, and help bring you up to be you
and you will be the best you can be.
I will teach you to smile at your failures rather than weeping
because failures are what make you human.
You’ll be strong willed with the confidence to let people know bit.
The most important thing I’ll teach you is love.
You’ll grow and grow and grow filling your head and heart with more.
More love for yourself
because you are YOU
and you are beautiful.
More love for people of all sort because we all matter and we all deserve to be loved.
And more love for yourself.
You will probably end up with some of my weaknesses
i’m sorry for that,
yet i’m not sorry enough to really mean it because  weaknesses don’t make you weak,
they make you human.
You, my wonderful daughter will grow into a beautiful woman
in more ways than you can count.
You will be intelligent, not by how much you’ve learned in school
but because you will be filled with kindness, passion, and love
and that is something no one can teach.
Your internal beauty will overflow and seep threw your pours making your external beauty just as beautiful as your internal beauty.

In certain lives, there comes a time where there is nothing left to live for, and all the remains within your dim existence is a shallow pool of wasted hopes and dreams.

Where skies no longer display hues of blue but instead produce red toxic fumes, while you wither away, questioning your own self-worth.

Dying with every breathe you take, crying with every sound you make.

These times may nearly destroy you. They may burn you alive, producing putrid black wounds, ripping away at your flesh and exposing you to the world.

They may leave you stranded alone, ******* the air from your lungs and leaving black holes in your heart. Black holes that render you helpless, as you struggle to save the last bit of sanity you have left to hold onto.

You may be slammed against the ground so hard that every last bone in your body breaks and you are suddenly knocked unconscious, unable to pick yourself off of the blood stained floor where your limp body remains.

Depression; a single word that holds such a strong meaning and has so much authority that it's mere presence is enough to weigh you down.

It's mere existence is so powerful that to be forcibly locked within it's thorny flesh-tearing arms leaves it's victims in such a dis-functional and discouraged state that escaping it's clutches seems nearly impossible.

This monster resides in a place where holding onto one's life is the hardest challenge you could possibly face.

Where no one else can see the darkness or hear the desperate cries for help.

Where no one else is capable of fathoming it's destructive soul-******* power.

Where no one is able to witness the killing of a soul and the slow but gradual declining of the ability to survive.

No one can understand until they have plummeted themselves into this dark abyss that travels down the the core of the Earth and devours you whole, this dark abyss known as depression.

You don't have remind yourself every day that you stand in this place. Because what is it worth simply rolling around in it's molten liquid until it kills you?

For even when there is no visible light at the end of the tunnel, you have to squint your eyes and look harder. Stare and stare until you see that light appear.

Even if it is just a spec of light poking through the darkness. Even if it appears to be thousands of miles away.

For even a spec of light is an opportunity to find your way out, an escape route in a blackened world.

You have to believe that even though your mind says that there is absolutely no hope left, even when life has disowned you, crushed you and has hit you with all it's might, you will make it out of this place.

You have to believe that this is the ultimate test of strength, your story as the lowly under-dog, rising to the top and conquering everything that once stood in your path even when it stood taller than what you thought you could handle.

The under-dog that was mocked and pushed around, that same soul that everyone spit on and deemed as unworthy of even the ground they stood on.

YOUR beautiful soul, that has been ignored, and cast as a shadow in this world. Even when no one was able to see your glory, not even yourself, you have to believe that you are a human-being.

Capable of climbing out of the darkest hole, finding your way out of the longest tunnel, balancing on a tight rope no thicker than a strand of hair.

You have to believe that you are worthy of the life you've been given, you are worthy of that happiness just within your own reach.