My mom told me the other day
"I haven't seen the old you since like 6th grade. Do you think she'll ever come back?"

11 years.
It's been 11 years since I've been considered "normal"
11 years since I wanted a future and actually planned on having one
11 years since I didn't feel trapped between being scared to die and not caring if I do
It's been 11 years since I haven't felt the grip of crippling anxiety and the weight of major depression.

They say it takes 21 days to break a habit. What they don't mention is if it's still possible to break one even if it's been over a decade.

Now I've always thought of bad habits as more of minor things such as biting your nails, swearing too much, or using "umm" as filler words. Can major things be habits too?

They say it takes 21 days to break a habit. It's been 11 years and I'm still the same.

Atomic boys and girls play with their atomic toys and curls,
At 18 years old she was atom bombs,
Gloomy and angry, 16 years old, she used to draw mushroom clouds on her bedroom walls

She always thought to herself,
How strange it is to be anything at all,
21 years old, she realized how badly it hurts to become

She was in love with the sadness, and she wore it on her sleeve in place of her heart, already too broken to keep together all in one place,
She was always so afraid of the dark, so it never went well, always causing the power to go out, it would take days, sometimes weeks for the lights to come back on,
But even after, it seemed as if no one wanted to come close in fear of the radiation

We did drugs, we rolled our windows down, we drove too fast, we tuned the radio until we heard God start playing air raid sirens, and we sang until our bodies became bombs

Always until the light came on, he promised her,
Whether it be the sunrise,
The moonlight,
Headlights,
Night lights,
Lamp shades

It didn't matter, he would never leave her alone in the dark,
He would bring an umbrella every night, knowing she would rain on him, it didn't matter, he loved her, enough to wear a raincoat year around, he even built a raft for when it rained hard, when even she thought she would drown, for when things became too much

She loved the the way his mouth seemed like comfort to her,
The way his arms were always around her, and the way his phone calls seemed like get well cards,
She told herself that she wouldn't let it get like this, but she did,
He told her that he wasn't going to leave her, but he did,
I guess everyone's a little bit of a liar in the end, right?

We danced until our bodies spilt our souls and then we fell into the December cold, right into the snow,
Until there was nothing left,
Until everything seemed to be just a bright flash

Let's all go play Nagasaki, we can all get vaporized, hold my hand, let's turn to ash I'll see you on the other side

I swear it's better, over there, where we can finally see the birds flying all around the air, where the heartbreak actually sets you free, where it doesn't hurt to breathe

Let's all go and meet our maker, they won't care who's side you're own,
I was so afraid, I prayed and prayed,
Before I learned to love the bomb

Let's all go play Nagasaki, what a lovely way to die,
I was so afraid, I prayed and prayed

Until I fell in love with the bomb

My uncle used to tell me that the sky was blue because we lived inside the eye of a giant, the sky would never cloud over, Nothing would ever feel better because it was already the best it could feel,
Nothing was ever going to hurt us and we could live our entire lives safely

When I was 14 years old my uncle took his own life by hanging, but my family always told me he passed away in a car crash,
Now I don't remember the last time I wore a seatbelt because ever since then I've had a really hard time believing in safety

I'm so scared of never being able to not feel like this,
To not feel like I am being taken advantage of,
My mind will forever consider these situations no matter what situation I am in,
I could stay up night after night trying to convince myself otherwise,
not that it would make any kind of difference,
So whenever I find something new and refreshing, all I know how do is sit in silence,
Hope to quiet this strange hurricane happening inside of me,
It kind of feels like one of these days the winds are gonna rip me to shreds, but I won't have the help, because I'll tell myself that I don't need it, anyways

I am terrified of calling myself a writer,
I am terrified of realizing that the only escape I have from this is a pen and a piece of paper,
Anxiety keeps telling me that one day all of the ink is going to spill out and the only option I'll have left is to take myself out,
They'll have to see me laying in a puddle of my own ink, my veins soaking in what once was my emotions and feelings, dripping through the floorboards and into the ground,
After that they'll see my entire body sink,
They'll see every comma and exclamation point flow out of my fingers and feet like it's some kind of tar filled river,
They'll see my lips start to quiver and the only thing left to come out,
The only thing they'll ever hear me say ever again,
Will be a sliver,
"I don't know why I am apologizing, but I'm so sorry that it never got better"

I wake up every morning and I am terrified,
I'm terrified of the nightmares I had the night prior,
When my best friend told me that I'd burn in a lake of fire because of my depression, that I wasn't normal, and that I had a disease,
That I was so sad all of the time because I didn't believe in a God,
That I was so hopeless because I wasn't leaning on some overplayed fake version of reassurance,
That I chose to pray to these demons to set me free,
The same demons that cast these shadows over me,
I remember yelling through tears at him, "I don't need to believe in a God to believe in myself",
I'm trying my best, but at this point, good things always seem so foreign to me,
It just seems so foreign to breathe

So until I reach that breaking point, where the moon and the sun are both only arbiters of light that I can use to guide myself through this darkness, through what feels like never ending night,
I'll be terrified of everyone and everything

I'll either get to happiness, or I'll die trying

shallow breaths feel like punches
who is in this room
who is here who is
am i about to die?

blinking like the stars blink
frozen, burning,
here, lost between
the dark and what's sane

croaking, a deathbed whisper
whispers slip into the sheets
whispers feel like raindrops
in desert heat

crumpled t-shirts pile up
like regrets
every empty cup
an inner mess
do your notebooks
feel like failures?
do you leave lost dreams
on broken hangers?

do you drink the blood like i do? do you feel the venom the veins
do you feel demonic birthing pains
is there madness to her? is she the motive? the moral?
insanity in the mind, (the mind) not oral because
morals aren't found in red lakes, only found where girlish girls and cheesy cheese are called fake
only found where love rides the sheep costume for hate
searching for shepherds and morals, but of late
the motive ran away when you looked in its face
asking why the boy drank madness on trains
asking why people let venom run through their veins.

i walked past the wine aisle today
pretending to be grown up
as i saw rows upon rose
and expensive wines infused with
notes of exotic fruits
and smooth whiskeys, cool beers and
cheap *****

i almost walked right past it
a blur of artificial pink and green
in the corner of my eye
i had the sudden urge to linger
for a little bit longer

on that strawberry and lime cider.

"hey you'll like this"
you offered me a sip of your
cup and suddenly i was
hooked

it's too easy to
imagine the exact taste
as it bubbles on my tongue, tingling, and making
it's way down my
parched throat

easy to swallow and
a delight going down
especially perfect during
a night out
in town

though it will never quite
taste as lovely
as when i sipped it
from your
lips

sweeter than sweet
a sensation reminiscent of,
swirling, dancing
twirling along my tongue,

the most heavenly cocktail
of you and
my new favourite drink

and suddenly,

strawberries in season,
remind me of you
as you held me close
and we missed the sun rise

limes suddenly
remind me of you
as you let go and left
only sourness behind

i never liked cider until
you brought the taste to
my lips

and suddenly,

i wanted to drown in it

but then you taught me, that
like most alcohol it's
best served cold with
eyes that look past me
and frozen strawberries

a fizzy concoction of
regret and enjoyment and
longing and excitement
and
regret

hard spirits and expensive liquor
just cannot compare to
the sweet and sour high
from a bottle of
strawberry and lime

but imagine my surprise
the first time after
you left
when i discovered that
suddenly
even something so pleasant
could have such a bitter
aftertaste

and i'm left wondering
how much longer
will your memory cling
to a branded bottle
of my old favourite drink.

they say the tortured poet
forms the most beautiful words
i say the tortured poet
is tortured.

i miss you like a lunar eclipse.
you dont cross my mind 364 days out of 365
but every four years
a total eclipse of my thoughts
occur

and on burning cold nights
lonely witching hour
does my mind wander so
remembering soft touches
and melting whispers
fleeting feelings
and lingering lips

frustration clouds my memories
like fog wisping across the moon
shadows and doubts created in its
absence that are
only visible once in a blue moon

today i kept thinking i saw you,
with your ***** blond hair and
awkward smile
your self confident stride
and sense of style

my heart jumped each time
at the mere idea of your presence,
as my body has yet to unlearn
its reaction to you

every time i see you
you never flinch or even glance my way
you walk closer
and then suddenly
it's not
you

my eyes flit down
i realise i was staring
my mouth involuntarily makes
a small disappointed 'o'
i realise i was holding my breath

but the very next second
my eyes flick back
and imagine your presence all over
again

no matter how far away you are,
miles, hours or oceans away
im still determined to find
you in every crowd