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Feb 2020 · 70
running out of time
N Feb 2020
I long for the day where I will be able to look at a knife or parallel lines and imagine nothing but their real purpose.
I long for the day where I can't bear to give myself any pain.
I long for the day when I am able to love myself.

I hope that I can reach those days and that I don't give up before then.
I hope that those days are soon.
Because I'm beginning to run out of time,
and i don't think I can make it much longer.
Sep 2019 · 1.5k
bad friend
N Sep 2019
Am I a bad friend? Because I get treated as if I am.
I’ve always had trouble with relationships. Whether it be with a friend, a guy, or family.
Am I a bad friend?

I recently had a discussion with my aunt. Barely breaking the surface of where my true issues lie, but shaving off some of my problems in life.
“You would sacrifice it all for a friend but I
don't think you would do the same for family”
That **** still rings in my head. That’s pretty ****** up of me for putting friends over family. But somehow I am still a bad friend.

There have been times when I stayed up 'til the crack of dawn to console or support my friends in need. But somehow that makes me a bad friend.

I’m not going to lie - I judge people based on first impressions. If you look like a *****, I will most likely think you are a *****. Yet somehow I am always able to look past the hard outer shells and see them for the usually kind hearted person they are.

Somehow most of the people that at one point I had coined as “best” or “close” friends, I at one point didn’t like.
Yet somehow I am a bad friend.

I realize now I should have just gone with my first impression of these “friends”. Because these “friends” are the same people who I considered “ride or die” who I considered “best friends” who at one point thought we had gained the bond of “sisterhood”.
Yet somehow I am a bad friend.

I am the one who at their lowest point in life would be more than willing to take in and console until they felt able to get back on their feet—emotionally and physically. But I am a bad friend.

I have always been the one that would take time away from studying, working, or even sacrifice time with family to be with these “friends”.
How am I a bad friend?

Being bullied at such a young and vulnerable age, I have always grown up with this feeling of being inadequate. Of not being liked. Of longing to be accepted. Even sitting here **** near 18, I want to be liked. I want friends. I have “friends”. I want friends. I thought I had done everything right but somehow it has all backfired on me.
How am I a bad friend?

I can’t seem to wrap my brain around the fact that I have broken rules, and stepped outside my comfort zone for “friends”. I have sacrificed relationships with other people for my “friends”. I did everything I was supposed to do for “friends”. Yet somehow I am a bad friend.

Someone explain to me. Please. How can you call me your “best friend” but sit there and break the first rule of friendship: loving eachother. How can someone sit there and degrade and disrespect the person who was there for them through the ups and the downs? Oh yeah, but somehow I am the bad friend.

I keep my guard up now. I smile when inside I cry.
I am too open. I am too trusting. I am too naïve.
I am just trying to figure out how I am a bad friend.

You know what I hate most? The fact that I have a lot of friends who won’t hesitate to ask for help. Who will keep me on the phone with them for hours to talk about their problems Who will play those stupid *** mind games to get me to stress out about how they feel. But when it comes to me, I am brushed aside, made fun of, ignored. Something that has happened all my life. But somehow I am the bad friend.

I should never have to sit in depression in the presence of people who are supposed to be my “friends”. I should never feel as if I can’t speak. I should never feel intimidated by people who are irrelevant to me. I should never forget that my grades are the **** when theirs are a *******. Most importantly, I should never be in a position where I am the only one that seems as if they don’t belong. Never in the position where my last choice options are better than their first.

I have always supported my “friends”. I never boasted about **** in my life. If I ever did, be sure that someone was quick to put me in my place. I am not a doormat. I am not a flunkey. I should have gone with my gut instinct.
I surrounded myself with people who made me feel like **** more than the ****. I chose popularity over reality. I now know you can’t win em all.

I always was accommodating to the needs of others. I always tried my best to diffuse situations. I tried not to cause confrontation. Yet I am the ******* bad friend.

Well you know what? I am not a bad friend. I am a great friend. I am the type of friend who will do anything for my friends. Everyone shows their true colors eventually.

To all the people who were never supportive of me, to all the people who brushed off all my problems as if I wasn’t worth the time, to all the people that spent more time bringing me down than bringing me up, to all the people who didn’t believe in giving back, to all the people who influenced me to change who I was, to all the people that didn’t accept me as I was, to all the people who I thought were my “friends”… I just want to give you all a big *******. And thanks. Thanks for proving to me that I am not the bad friend. You are.

The (at one point and still occasionally) depressed, suicidal teenager that never thought she would be completely accepted by her friends, that never realized that she had given so much of herself to people that will never give it back, that tried so hard to accept the harsh criticism of her life choices as friendly gestures, that felt as if her accomplishments would go unrecognized, that wanted to prove to others that she could be successful more than herself, that continues to **** up relationships with the people who really matter because of irrelevant ****. Yeah that girl. That girl who has been emotionally, physically, and spiritually abused nearly her whole life. That girl who is nearly as innocent as Mary, but continues to be compared to hoes and *****. That girl who has been forced since the 6th grade to take those degrading comments with a crooked smile. That girl who became a bad friend as soon as she decided to do something for herself. That girl that now makes you feel and look like **** because you didn’t know her whole story. And you never will.
Jan 2019 · 139
reasons why I love you
N Jan 2019
If it weren't for you,
I wouldn't know how to be treated,
what true love really means,
I wouldn't feel this peace;
I couldn't be content.

I love your tenderness, it gives me bliss;
your easy going positivity,
your humility and for being your genuine self.
I love you for the happiness you shared,
when smiling was something i never dared.
I love you for bringing me daily sunshine,
my everyday became better,
and I will treasure that, and you,

No other one can take your place,
you're it; I have no choice.

If it weren't for you,
I'd be adrift,
used and abused.

You make me feel whole.
You accept me as I am, I can relax and just be me.
I'm drawn to you in total trust, I give myself to you willingly.

You're one in a million, my most special one.
I'm happy you chose me from all the rest,
because I know that I have the best.
Jan 2019 · 168
letter to my parents
N Jan 2019
You gaze into my soul and see resistance when you should have seen suffering. I don't hold rebellion in my throat, but it's swollen and choking me into silence. I struggle to evict the knot in my throat.

Why can't you see how I bite my nails, bounce my leg, or twirl my thumbs?
It keeps me from exploding and collapsing.
I provide myself with the comfort and strength to bury it deep down.
I won't ever ask you to hold me.

Are you blind?
Can you not see my eyes, glossy with unshed tears?
My clenched fists or how I'm trying to push out the words wrapped around the knot?
I can feel the fire in my soul, trying to restrain my eyes from drowning, to exert my vocal cords to function. I won't cry, it is a weakness. I don't want to beg for forgiveness.

I'm unable to defend myself against your attack, so I hideout for it all to resolve.
Wonder why I don't storm away?
I've learned to contain the urge.

I anger you and you try to remain calm, but you're weighed down with disappointment and speak with venom in your mouth. ]
I stand tall and unbreakable. I can only leave when dismissed.

I will never express my feelings of anger, or the pain you've put me through. I am in the wrong so I must endure the rage. I have already sentenced myself to silence, I will not fight for this victory.
Jan 2019 · 139
I would die for you
N Jan 2019
For the people I care for,

I would bleed for you.
If the chance arose and you were in danger,
I would die for you.
But you would not even consider doing that for me.

If you were scared I would hold you.
If you were lost I would find you.
If you were crying I would give you my shoulder.

Even when we're older,
I would do anything for you.
I would bleed for you.
I would hold you.
I would die.
Just because I love you,
Just because you keep me alive.
Jan 2019 · 311
love is a lie
N Jan 2019
I will never forget you.
I will never forget the betrayal,
the damage, or the manipulation.
The way you touched me,
the act that made me think you cherished our conversations.
I was hooked on you.
My withdrawals had no cure.

I knew I never had your heart.
I should have seen it,
it was right before my eyes.
You wanted us to "have our own secret world".
You had a girlfriend,
claimed you left her for me.
Never did I question it.

You used to say those three words.
I latched onto the "love" and attention you gave me.
Something that I had always lacked.
But it was never truthful,
it was never me,
it was for her,
it was always for her.

But I also got your violent anger,
your hate,
your manipulation.
Playing games with my heart and mind,
leaving me broken then suddenly pulling me back in.
There was no cure.

It was always expected that I do exactly as you say.
Never to be seen together in public,
never to talk to you with others around,
never to take any pictures with you,
the only place to see you was in one of our homes.
Never to be let outside around that area.
We did not know each other.
I was invisible to you.

You had complete control.
I didn't even have the option to disobey a command,
if I did you would vanish and I craved the love and attention.

But you never loved me.
I was your toy,
you would throw me away time after time.

I loved you.
When I was with you nothing else mattered.
You didn't feel the same,
you didn't feel at all.
I let you hurt me.

It was all an illusion
of feelings,
of sentimen,
of love,
of hate.
You called yourself "The King".
I was just your pawn.
Just another piece on your board.
Dec 2018 · 128
scarred heart
N Dec 2018
you ask me why i am avoiding your hands,
they terrify me.
you ask what you did wrong when i pull away,
it startles me.

it all  brings me back to when i felt disconnected from my own body,
too scared to say stop,
too drunk to walk,
when they violated my body

when you touch me, im re-living the night of april 20th,
when all five of them demolished me not only physically but mentally.

but this time, its not like it used to be.
you don't want to hurt me, you don't want me .
you love me and i know that.
but why does the lightest touch bring me back to that one night where i wished they had just killed me.

i wish i could heal or help you understand,
because i love you too.
Oct 2018 · 374
what I need from my parents
N Oct 2018
i just want it all to be over-
the fights, the crying, the endless cycle of explosion
i just want you to love me
to make me not feel broken anymore

i need you to hear me
hear my pain and longing to reach out to you
i need you to understand me
understand my feelings and my desires

i yearn for your attention
i yearn for your praise
i yearn for your affection

i want to move on
to be free of this life

free me from these chains
let me move on and make my own life.
Oct 2018 · 329
broken family
N Oct 2018
is your family still together, just like way back when?
do you stick by each other through thick and thin?
or do you hardly know eachother?
and do you wonder why you rarely talk to your mother?

it wasn't always this way, i can recall there was a time...
we were all together and we were doing fine.
we all have our problems, please don't get me wrong...
but i can remember a time when life was still a song.

so much has happened to tear us into pieces...
broken hearts never mended and the distance still increases...
once i became old enough, reality banged on my door,
i realized that this didn't feel like a family anymore...

i wish so deeply we could put the pieces of our relationship back together,
i just don't even know where to start.

it is small and broken, some here and there...
left to wonder if you will ever trust each other.
it brings a storm of resentment from what has become...
the events of the torn bond left me feeling numb.

i once missed the ways i learned to live without...
no stronger than the flame which we blew out.
your family is there, whether you want it or not...
it just depends on what you've got.

blood doesn't make us more loyal than a friend...
nor does it establish who's there in the end.
let them go if they never pulled through.
sometimes you find, you'll always have to.

i never took it straight to the heart...
just thought of it as two worlds apart.
Sep 2018 · 124
second choice
N Sep 2018
am i the one you call when you're feeling lonely?
am i the one you need when you're feeling needy?
am i the second choice?

we don't go anywhere, we don't do couple things,
i should have realized that when she got the ring.
i hate being the second choice.

why am i putting myself in this position?
clearing being the example of this definition.
the sidechick i thought i would get special treatment,
cant blame him or her for my feelings.

i thought he would leave her,
what was i thinking.
i'm just the second choice.

is it because i'm too insecure,
and my self esteem is too low,
that i took it upon myself and went with the flow,
and accepted being the second choice.

where do i go from here,
being alone is my fear.

but at least i'll stop being the second choice.
Sep 2018 · 1.3k
letter to my mother
N Sep 2018
despite what others prefer to believe, all women can be mothers.
but not all mothers can be maternal, i've learned this from living with you all these years.

I guess that's the same as saying you weren't hardwired to love me. but i was certainly born to love and need you. i didn't realize this when i was younger, although i wish i did. i wish i understood.

you, in all that you are and all you are not, gave me life. yet i have no happy memories with you. i can't recall a single moment in all these years that we have conversed about anything other than surface level topics.

sure, you keep me well-fed, bathed, clothed, educated, and all things materialistic. other than that, what else was there?

you are emotionally distant, perpetually detached. you never understood how much i needed to be held, comforted and heard. you left me hungry and desperate for love, approval and validation. all of this, i sought from others.

good thing dad is around to make up for what you cant give. i can never thank him enough. but his love can only go so far. i need you too.

look at me, mom, i need a little fixing.
a few others have tried, but have failed miserably. they all gave up eventually.

who would even dare waste their youth on someone as hopelessly broken as i am, right? at least that what you taught me to believe. you belittle me every chance you get.

i keep trying to figure you out. watching movies and reading articles about mothers and daughters who share a strong bond always fill me to the brim with the painful awareness of a deep loss, and the horror that i am alone in this agony.
this was my own personal brand of hell.

what was going through your head when you first held me? were you disappointed that your plans were put on hold because you gave birth to such a needy, greedy baby?

"greedy. that's practically your middle name" you said. remember?
am i the cause of all your frustrations? do you look at me and see all the things you couldn't have, all the things wrong in your world?

recently, i remember you said you wanted us to have a more open relationship, something you never had with your mother.
although now that i've thought about it, it makes no sense.
its almost impossible to justify the idea of you wanting to befriend me, with you being unspeakably critical of me one day, impossibly uncaring the next day and then, completely out of the blue, disconcertingly affectionate toward me.

i am now suddenly aware that the overbearingly fussy mom act, frequently happened in front of an audience.
behind closed doors, you never asked me what i was thinking or how i was feeling. i grew up believing my opinions and emotions were largely irrelevant to you.

there was, and is, no winning with you. i was never smart enough for you, mom. apparently, a 89 is not good enough.

I was never pretty enough for you, either. whenever we went out you told me to put on some makeup. only complimenting my looks when i have a full face of makeup on. the worst part is, for the longest time, i believed you.
i still believe you, sometimes.

mom, for years, you've convinced me i am unworthy of unconditional love and affection, for being unapologetically me.

me relationships, both romantic and platonic, have been a constant roller coaster ride. one moment, my head is spinning from the high of all their love and support, the next minute, i am spiraling into depression, because i feel like i cant trust them to stick around.
because who would want to stay with a person who is beyond reparation, right?

it always seems like euphoria is less welcome than misery when i'm around you. i flee from romantic relationships when i notice myself becoming attached. i don't even know why, considering the amount of fondness i have for them.

maybe it's self sabotage? perhaps. what i do know for sure is i don't deserve such a kind, loving soul.
or do i?

do you even realize how crippling it is to constantly wait for the other shoe to drop? i have friends who have been there for me all these years and i, for the life of me, don't trust them enough not to judge me whenever i open up about my problems and this sadness you've inflicted on me.
that is why i suffer in silence.

i feel an obsidian emptiness in my heart and my soul. and you are the one who caused it.
i despise what you've done to me, but even i know i can't hate you forever. i can't keep living my life like this, mom.
but who do i turn to?

i reckon this terrible affliction is mine, and mine alone. i have to stop blaming you now.

i have to emancipate myself from all the guilt that well meaning people direct toward me, for having such strong, contradictory feelings for you. they are oblivious to what it's like to squirm under your disapproving gaze, after all.

i must be free of you somehow.
only then i can begin to heal.
only then can i be free.
Sep 2018 · 5.5k
surviving death
N Sep 2018
waiting for death...

the empty bottle of pills layed on my bedside table,
so much pressure in my head it feels like it's going to explode.
my chest with a pain so indescribable,
my head starting to get foggy,

first few minutes...

laying in the back of my fathers car,
my head in my sisters lap with my face wet from her tears,
rushing to the ER,
everybody terrified yet i was at peace,

i felt like i could finally be free,
from all the pain and heartaches.
I felt relaxed, undisturbed, ready for death.

first few hours...

laying in the hospital bed,

i stare at the ceiling with a blank expression,
ignoring all doctors, nurses, therapists, and social workers
that try to talk to me or ask questions.
i barely spoke a word.

they inspected my wrists for cuts,
faint scars, unfound fresh cuts on my hips.
this was never addressed or even commented on by my parents.

my sister held my hand constantly,
sat in that chair with no intentions of leaving,
to comfort me.

first day back...
i had not been at school for afew days,
rumors had gone around,
friends who knew how unstable i was had been talking,
people would approach me and ask what happened,
i got weird looks and stares,
i got so many questions.

first week...
i sat in my chair in the classroom in a shocked silence,
i didn't speak a word at school for a whole week.
a blank stare on my face all day,
constantly wishing that i was never brought into that hospital,
wishing they didn't save me.

first month...
i slept so much yet never felt rested
my sister felt like the only person giving me the support and love that i needed,
the only person to text me throughout the day,
the only person to keep me company,
the only person to get me to speak about how i was feeling,
the only person to remind me every single day how much she loved me.

second month...
i hold back my tears in english.
as we watch a movie about a girl that commited suicide.

third month...
i let small things get to me while locked in my room,
feeling so numb that i slit my skin so i can feel something,
so i can see if i'm still alive or not.

fourth month...
i want to give up again

fifth month...
i get prescribed medications for depression

people don't understand what it's like
to awake every morning,
and all they can wonder is
why they had even awoken

to pick up all of their pieces,
and put them back together
but still feel like they're broken

to say all that they can say,
and still feel like there's more
yet every word has been spoken,

slowly becoming immune to my emotions,
with my lungs incapable of letting air out,
with the pain buried within and unable to turn into tears.

to go to sleep every night,
and the only hope they have
is that their eyes will not open.


i am still healing, on my way to recovery
i am reminded of all the pain i've endured through the years
it used to be etched into my body

i regret it yet also embrace it
because i am strong,
and i will survive.
Sep 2018 · 618
thirteen years
N Sep 2018
It took me thirteen years to realise
the words in my mind were too deep for my mouth to dig up,
i thought it was easier to open my skin,
and let the truth pour down my arms.

it took me thirteen years to realise
nobody should be allowed to change your thoughts,
or hold pieces of your heart that you don't yet understand.

it took me thirteen years to realise
i will wear these scars forever
i'll carry them through every smile, every kiss, every concerned gaze,
i'll carry them to my grave.

it took me thirteen years to realise
the pain carved into the walls of my castle, etchings on my body,
attempting to die,

are not a story of weakness
but a tale of how i survived.
Sep 2018 · 3.3k
ode to suicide
N Sep 2018
to those who say suicide is selfish and cutting is pointless,
understand you can never comprehend what they dealt with.

you may say you have it worse than they did,
on deeper levels that **** was well hid.
somethings easy for you may be hardest for others.
it's not easy to leave mothers, fathers, friends, and siblings.

your strength my weakness, your weakness my strength
those who suffer go through many trials of a never ending darkness.
some wear their scars on their sleeves,
others hide it tucked well deep beneath.
help sometimes is not what they really need.

I can assure you this wasn't a selfish and greedy deed,
they loved you so much, more than you will ever know.
sometimes in an ironic way, the better is finally letting go.

whether you believe in afterlife or rather nothing at all
remember the best of times, and for them stand proud and tall.
their presence may no longer reside on our earth,
but forever in our hearts and mindw they shall always remain.

we will never fully understand and comprehend,
but i know we will all reunite in the end.
Sep 2018 · 346
trust issues
N Sep 2018
when I was five,
my mother told me I was loved.
years later, she mentally abuses me and tells me to **** myself
because I am her punching bag.

when I was eight,
my aunt told me she would always be there.
years later, she hung herself in her living room
breaking her promise.

when I was eleven,
I was told to be social, that everybody is a friend.
years later, I was *****.

When I was sixteen,
this guy said I was beautiful.
weeks later, he trashed me, tormented me
because I was ignorant enough to overlook my inevitable flaws.

So, sorry for not believing in you,
for questioning your intentions, inclusively, in-depth
when you told me you loved me because
I didn't want to wind up later on,
learning it the hard way, once again,
that people often don't mean what they say.
Sep 2018 · 94
forbidden love
N Sep 2018
a nurse so sweet
a skin so dark and delight
with eyes so hypnotizing
you seemed a heaven sent;
an angel from the sky above
here to put me back together.

the way you spoke
so comforting, so genuine
your voice a gentle hum.

you led me to a blanket under the stars
where it was as if I froze in time,
you were who I had been searching for,
I dreamed of you.

but as much as you complete me,
make me feel whole,
you break me.

my heart shatters everytime you're with her,
everytime you block me,
every time somebody mentions her name,
i need 100 percent of you.

this forbidden love has torn me apart inside
but i never want it to end.
Sep 2018 · 98
I hate love
N Sep 2018
I fall in love with the wrong people.
With the guy with a girlfriend,
with the guy that abused me,
with the guy who ***** me.
I  fall in love with men I shouldn't

Because they all listened,
they all made me smile.
They all talked to me like I was special.
They all had "something about them"
because of the way they all looked at me.

Love stories are tragic.
Unjust external force always tears us apart;
our families, timing, school or a ******* excuse.

Nobody talks about a lover giving up
because "I don't love you anymore"
cuts deeper.
The wound of fate no longer leaves you bleeding out
and longing.
Those words slit new veins open from the inside,
fills your lungs, bursts your ego.
Choke on the rejection, die drowning in the loneliness.
Wonder how you'll live without him,
wonder what you could have done.
The blame is on you.

Leaving a lover for your own self being
hurts even worse.

This is the difference between melancholic aching
and soul-shattering, identity questioning

So don't tell me "I saw it coming"
when the next guy I love
manipulates me or cheats.
I already know.
I choose to fall in love with men
who will destroy themselves,
or be taken but never leave.
Sep 2018 · 1.1k
trying to forget
N Sep 2018
As the rain pelts my skin
I try to forget about what you all did
As your foreign hands invaded my body
I regret ever going to that "party"

My friend said it would be fun
That I had nothing to lose
But everything changed
when she left me
with you guys

Your eyes glowed so self-assured
Smiles perfectly polished
Your intentions seemed friendly
But you were all there to demolish

How many girls before me
have fallen into this trap?
Or is it me who will be
alone on this path

Maybe someday you will all have daughters of your own
And get the call saying, "Daddy I can't come home"
Because she is mortified by a choice she didn't make
But was never educated to know it was called ****

For months I have felt broken and battered
I have wallowed in self-pitty
You have all affected every single aspect of my life
Left me with no words
A feeling of constant numbness and anger
I don't know what to do

I feel ruined.
N Sep 2018
To my first love,
you ***** me...
with all your friends.

The first time I kissed him I wasn't held
It felt more like a grab
The first time he layed me down
He pushed me down
The first person I said stop to
Ignored me
The second person I said stop to
Ignored me
The third

The first time I told someone, yet only about him,
I left out the others.
She told me not to be dramatic
She said that I was crushing on him for years
That I got what I wanted
That I should be happy
When I tried to be okay with him
With her
With the whole situation
I tried.

Now I am labeled a *****
I am called a pornstar
Because videos were leaked
I am messaged by strangers.

The first time I told my boyfriend,
he broke up with me.
The first time I told my best friend,
she left me.

But the first time I told a teacher
She held me
She told me she was sorry
And for the first time
I felt safe again

But I know safety is an illusion.
Because I will always feel their hands grabbing me,
pushing me down,
passing me around,
hiding me,
As if they're holding onto their own safety,
After all if they don't let go
I can't tell anyone.
Sep 2018 · 270
why "no" didn't come out
N Sep 2018
I own a good chin to lift,
a look that threatens from a distance.
Yet the shield I pretend to put on is rusty, shattered, almost broken.

So I walk out, shield up,
and yet
I shiver if i only get a hint of a scent,
reminding me of someone who ****** me without permission.

Sometimes, I forget the amount of my anger
But, if it bares meaning,
I understand it.
Not only mine, but the anger of many women,
who woke up in someone's bed
and left there smelling of a body they didn't choose to smell of.

Don't tell me I should've said "No".
Because sometimes the mouth doesn't listen to the body,
body doesn't listen to the brain,
the brain is not aware of that.

months later you'll be sobbing with the realization that
you're afraid of the man you trust most of all,
your own father,
only because he produces testosterone.

Months ago, it happened too fast.
I didn't say "No".
They didn't give me time to do it.

As I was leaving, eyes clenched to my feet,
hands clenched into fists,
words clenched into my mouth,
I let him hug me as he was trying to make it all seem acceptable.

That's what makes me the angriest of all.
That I let one of the men that humiliated me and destroyed my mind ******* hug me.

**** all of you.
I will never be the same.
I will never be able to forget.
Sep 2018 · 1.5k
ruined lives
N Sep 2018
Is it **** if you don't put up a fight or scream?
But you said stop,
and they didn't.
But you drank...
you were helpless and terrified.

"It was your choice", they say so heartlessly.
It was not.
"You never tried to escape", they say to me with disgust.
Their words destroy me inside.
I stood no chance against them, and I knew it.

Is it **** if you obeyed?
You wanted so badly to run but your body
wouldn't move
frozen with fear you remembered.
"Why didn't you scream then?" Is what they'll say.

I wanted so badly to push them off me
to run away and never come back,
to disconnect from my body,
to die.

I was encouraged so badly to report it,
"It will give you closure",
"You will inspire others",
"People will think you are so strong",
so I did.

But instead of praise I got criticism and disrespect.
I wanted so badly to come out with this ****,
I was told I would be safe,
I was not.

But I reported it, it's my fault they would victim blame.
They would say since they're so successful,
she just wanted attention and money.

They let it slide because after all,
those boys are so young and talented,
why would we want to ruin their lives?
Yet mine is already ruined.
Dec 2017 · 25.1k
trapped in love
N Dec 2017
People always say that relationships are hard,
but they are not supposed to feel exhausted.
It shouldn't be so self consuming and agonizing.
You put me through this emotionally draining cycle almost every day.
It goes like this:

you get provoked and infuriated,
I push to defend myself,
you argue then neglect me,
I feel at fault and withdrawal myself,
you manipulate and guilt trip me,
I apologize,
you are apologetic yet unlawfully canny,
I build you back up.

After the cycle,
You are left feeling complete yet
I am left with an ample void.
After the cycle,
your integrity, contentment, and overall mind set,
are surely enhanced and amplified
I am left with an everlasting void
that expands through every small dispute

you guilt trip me after every single fight,
saying you aren't worthy of me,
that you aren't good enough.
I can't let you think that,
so I fix your thoughts.
It's so tiring.

I'm trapped.

I care about you, so how could I leave.
But even if i wanted to, I couldn't
there are barriers.

your friends would hate me,
your sister would dislike me.
your bestfriend yet also my bestfriend, would leave me.

I cant risk these things.

I feel trapped.

But i love you,
so its okay.

Nov 2017 · 7.3k
dear depression
N Nov 2017
Dear depression,
I was 11 when you forced yourself on me. You never introduced yourself or even asked to be friends, you just took over my life. My happy days were gone, you kept following me around making me feel unwanted.
I did not want you here.
You grew as I grew, creeping into the quiet moments when I thought I was alone. You made me feel like I was nothing. I woke up looking forward to sleeping again - it was my escape. Yet you made my escape so difficult to reach.
I used to be so happy when the sun came out shining on my skin as I ran through the yard and laughed, with no care in the world.
But that laughter turned into tears, the sun into darkness. My heart and soul cries for help as I try to fight you.
You changed me - You keep me in my thoughts.
I'm stuck in a dark empty place that was once my self, but now it's gone. You left me far beneath my tears. You have taken my life away.
Why can't you just be gone already!!! I do not want you here, I never did! You have taken so much, what else do you want from me?!

I don't want you as a friend anymore. I can't take the constant fighting for my life. You ruined me. You ruined my mind, heart, body, and soul. You come back every time but you never leave. When will you leave me? I write sobbing knowing how much you have damaged me. I want you to leave and never come back.

There's not enough room for both of us.
So may the best one win.
Nov 2017 · 8.0k
to my past love
N Nov 2017
I should hate you.
I should be angry because you like her and not me.
I should be angry because of how you only gave me attention when you wanted something from me.
How I gave you my trust, love, and heart and you broke all three at once.
How you emotionally abused me, manipulated me and had no respect for me.
I should be angry that you gave me hope for a future that you know I most desperately desired.
That you made me think it would happen but you cheated countless times,
and whenever somebody better came along, you left me in a heartbeat, like I never meant anything to you.
You left me heartbroken.

But then I remember the words you said to me,
the way you made me feel when the cold weather and cloudy skies were around,
and all those horrible memories of you fade away.

My god, I wish I didn't have to love you the way I do,
but I find it impossible to stop.
It took everything in me to delete those pictures of you where we both looked so happy.
It took everything inside me to accept that you don't need me,
you never did.
You don't miss me.
You don't care about me the slightest bit.
You don't even want me.
It took me every bone in my ******* body to keep you out of my mind when I wasn't sober.
But I realized that you were all I thought of, sober or not.

Because my heart kicked you out,
so you just moved straight into my mind.
Nov 2017 · 2.5k
N Nov 2017
Nobody ever taught me how to love myself.
I was never told to love the way my hair falls into light curls,
or the healing scars on my wrists, hips, and mind.
I was never told to love my stomach, or my eyes, or my lips.
I was criticized all my life over the size and shape of my body.
Ever since I can remember I was told not to like myself,
to think of myself as nothing,
to always put others first.
I was never the number one priority and I never wanted to trust.
Even at home I was told by the ones I loved the most that I was not good enough.

This is where the question originated: do the one's I love actually love me?
Maybe it was just an illusion in my mind,
that maybe the really don't.

I pictured my relationships with my family members as I thought  they should be.
I thought that because they were family they would automatically
say "I love you",
support me through it all,
respect me,
keep me safe.
But it's not like that.

It took me quite some time to realize that just because you are related by blood,
all these are automatically there.
It took me quite some time to realize that maybe they don't love me,
that if these things are lacking... it is not love.
It took me quite some time to realize that I was wanting the love and attention that all desire,
yet not all receive.

I was taught from a young age not to love myself,
which fed to my thought that I was not loved as I grew older.

Maybe if I was taught to love myself then I wouldn't be the wreck I am now.
Maybe I would have more self respect and wouldn't destroy not only my own body,
but my mind.
Maybe I would have avoided those toxic relationships.
Maybe my first love wouldn't have been able to take advantage of me,
and neither would have the other four boys.
Maybe I wouldn't have ended up in that hospital,
more than once.

Maybe if things were different in the beginning,
I wouldn't be so damaged now.
Nov 2017 · 272
N Nov 2017
After a while, everything stops working.
You just have to give it time to die.
Nov 2017 · 484
N Nov 2017
Recently I have allowed myself to get worse.
I stopped telling people how I was feeling,
I couldn't stay sober for more than a week,
I relapsed.
I hate myself for so many things that i have done,
I make the worst descisions,
I can't do things right.
I'm getting worse and I dont know how to ask for help.
It's hard, I want people to think I'm strong but Its hurting me.

God, this writing doesn't even make sense I'm so lost.
Oct 2017 · 1.2k
would you care?
N Oct 2017
If I told you that you were the first one of 7
would you care?
If I told you that it took me months to recover,
would you care?
If I told you that I had panic attacks by the wrong touch,
would you care?
If I told you that I have nightmares about that night,
would you care?

No. You wouldn't.
But I hope you at least know that what you did,
I am reminded of every single week.
When somebody says your name,
when they bring up our past,
when I see a picture of you.

You haunt me.
You broke me.
And I am reminded of it too often.
Oct 2017 · 3.5k
you broke me
N Oct 2017
What made you feel the need to take my kind heart,
and break it in two.
Not only my heart but my mind, my pride, my self esteem.
All of that was broken the last night we spent together.
Why did you do it?

You told me to shut up, that yelling won't help.
You told me that if I ever told anyone I would regret it.
That nobody would believe me.
That I was not worth enough for people to care.
Why did you do it?

I gave you nothing but love and support for a month,
expecting the time to go longer.
But you didn't care, you used me.
For a whole month, you pretended to love me.
Why did you do it?

You are my biggest regret.
You are the one that pushed me over the edge,
the reason I ended up in that hospital.
You shot a hole in my heart and it can never be filled.

You pushed me onto that bed even when i said no.
You forced yourself on me when i tried to get away.
No you did not **** me,
but you did everything else.
And you made me do it back.
Why did you do it?
Oct 2017 · 5.1k
my prison
N Oct 2017
My bedroom is my prison.
I am locked up with high surveillance.
My guards watching my every move,
yet somehow they see nothing.
A place where misconduct is common,
although the boss never sees.
A cold, harsh feeling always present.
Marks on the wall counting the days until i'm free.
My bedroom is my prison.
And there is no escaping until i'm out.
Oct 2017 · 256
face first crash
N Oct 2017
Face first crash,
****** mouth full of gravel,
some say that's how depression hits you.
others say its like a freight train
that collides into them head on,
and smashes them against the tracks,
leaving bits and pieces of them where they don't belong.
face first crash into depression,
so unexpected,
always hurts the most.
Oct 2017 · 262
I'm fine
N Oct 2017
You won't believe how many times I have typed "i'm fine" with shaky fingertips and bloodshot eyes.
Too many to count.
I know that situation too well.
Oct 2017 · 279
it's simple
N Oct 2017
The best way to **** yourself?
The answer is simple:
Being alive is not the same as living.
I might as well be dead by the way I feel.
Isolate yourself.
Don't speak when you want to the most.
Fake a smile.
most importantly stay alive, but don't live.
That's the best way  to do it.
To stay alive but feel so numb and sad that it slowly kills you all together.
Oct 2017 · 561
faking it
N Oct 2017
When society asks how you are... what the hell do you tell them?

That you're exhausted,
worn down and numb.
That you know what death feels like.
It is still, calm, and empty.
It is beyond sadness, a cold, nothingness feeling.
That you've lost yourself.
You're looking at your reflection touching the glass,
trying to work out if that really is you staring back.
That if people can be broken, you have shattered every bone.
Dropped every ***** so it cracked just like glass
That you can force your mouth into a smile,
but your eyes are blind, dull, and empty.
The sadness is all you have right now.
Perhaps it will vanish tomorrow, but perhaps it won't.
You've been here before and will be here again.
This cycle is the life you have become used to.
You're sure you will be fine.

You're just a sad and broken person. That's how you are.
But you can't exactly tell society that can you?
So you go about your day with a smile on your face because you have to fake it until you make it.
Oct 2017 · 530
just another night
N Oct 2017
Tonight is one of those nights.
You know, the ones where you fall apart.
You close the door and numbly lock it.

You stare at your hands for the longest time before finally breaking.
You gasp for breath, silently sobbing about everything all at once.
About everything that is wrong with you and the world.

Then you deal with it the only way you know how.
You take deep, exhausted, shuddered breaths as you quietly cry yourself to sleep.

The next morning you wake up huddled in the corner of your bed, with a sore body and pounding headache.
So you get out of bed just like any other morning.
Oct 2017 · 1.1k
seven billion people
N Oct 2017
7 billion people in this world,
and we end up wanting people who do not want us.

7 billion people in this world,
and we end up valuing people who don't give a **** about us.

7 billion people in this world,
and we end up needing people that do not need us.

7 billion people in this world,
and we end up trusting people that just break us in the end.
Oct 2017 · 178
N Oct 2017
I asked her to tell me what she wished for.
"I want to go home," she whispered.
"Isn't this your home?" I asked confused.
She shook her head,
her hand reached out to hold mine gently.

"Home is comfort even when things don't go your way. Home is a place to hide when you're tired of running. Home is a place to be yourself without feeling judged. It's where you feel safe."

"So are you saying you aren't home?"
"Yes, that's exactly what i'm saying," she said, on the verge of tears.
Oct 2017 · 451
N Oct 2017
My emotions are so strong they show up on my body.
i have scars for that.
the wrinkles in the corner of my eyes.
my body starts to tremble.
in love?
my eyelashes flutter.
my body expresses my emotions better than my words.
so when i can't say whats going on in my mind, please, i beg you, look at my body.
look at the way i'm nervously twirling my hair, or my hands anxiously shake, or my eyes drift around in the distance in sadness.
my emotions show, you just need to pay attention.
Oct 2017 · 2.3k
my oxygen
N Oct 2017
when i get this bad i feel like i'm trapped in a room and i'm running out of  oxygen.
my breathing gets faster and shorter.
the walls close in.
my chest fells like it has 100  pounds on it  forcing my ribs to cave in.
sometimes i feel like this for a second, other times days.
but then there's certain people and they 're like my oxygen .
they help me breathe.
it's hard when they aren't around.
i need them.
they're my oxygen.
i'll die without them
Oct 2017 · 823
what people taught me
N Oct 2017
things people taught me:
that the love you have must come at the expense of people around you.
that once you give something, it's yours to take from them.
that being alone is the only safe place.
that being alone is a dangerous thing.
that to feel comfortable with someone you need to assert your dominance.
that you can never feel comfortable.
that marks and bruises mean you care.
that the marks and bruises not only show on my body but in my mind.
that no matter what the situation is my feelings are invalid.
that my bedroom is a safe and private place.
that nothing is really private.
that safety is just an illusion.
that happiness or sadness has more to do with sleep then choice.
that every conflict must be met with loud noises and anger.
that love consists of constant criticism and pain.

— The End —