We didn't make it to four;
I will never forget the summer that I fell in love.
It was you and me, us against the world.
A secret club and only we had the key.
Every touch, every kiss, every moment was well spent and filled with bliss.
And even though I moved away and you moved on;
I know that what we had was real
And all of our memories are still there,
And I believe that somewhere we are still together and we are still making memories;
And we are still in love.
Although you may not think of me anymore,
You will always be my summer.

Black and white.
Black and white.
Every thought, every emotion.
Black and white.
Black and white.
All I feel is black and white.
Highs are too high.
Lows are too low.
Trapped between two worlds.
Two minds.
One heart.

Blood smells strongly of iron.
Who would of thought a surface cut would bleed so much.
I can't feel pain.
I can't feel anything.

*****.
No mixer.
No ice.
You never liked your ***** cold.
You'd sit there in the corner,
Slamming your drinks like they were water.
Like you were a fish on land.
Gasping for air.
No one drank like that unless they were running away from something.
What were you running from?
You finished what had to of been your fifth or sixth drink.
You got up from the bar,
And stumbled towards me.
You smelled of peppermint and tobacco.
Your eyes were bloodshot.
You asked to buy me a drink.
I was running from something, too.
***** and Red Bull.
Lots of ice.
We shared our thoughts.
You asked for a kiss.
I declined.
I said, "I want to get out of here."
You said, "Let's go back to mine."
We shared a laugh.
I even let you kiss me.
Little did I know, I would be running away from you, too.
I never got to ask you what your name was;
And I never got to tell you mine.
And to be honest, I don't even remember the color of your eyes.
But I remember what it felt like when you pushed up my skirt.
And I remember your scent made me want to *****.
I now hate the smell of peppermint.
I drink my ***** warm.

I am so proud and overwhelmed that my poem about depression got so much attention and touched so many people.
All my life all I have wanted to do is share my story and inspire others. I never thought that a poem I wrote during a low day while I was at school would reach so many people. I would of been happy if only one person took away something from that because the words I said were true.
I appreciate any constructive criticism that was given and all of the kind words that were said. Thank you for making me feel less alone.

Being alive isn't a gift. It's a temporary form of torture.
Everyone will hurt you.
Everyone will leave.
No one cares about your feelings.
No one cares about what you have to say.
People do bad things.
Everyone is a bad person.
It doesn't get better.
It will never get easier.
You don't go to hell. You are in hell.
Living is a temporary form of torture.

I wonder what it feels like to look at a razor blade and see it as just a razor blade.
Not an object to hurt myself with.
Not the weapon that almost ended my life.
Just a razor blade.

Oh, how I love Autumn.
The moon was bright and the wind was cold.
You made me feel warm, you were the only one I liked to hold.
Here is where I wanted to be when we grew old.
You would smile and I would whisper in your ear, how I happy I was to be here.
We would sit here for hours under this beautiful tree.
As the leaves died, so did we.
I would sit here alone, staring at our tree.
Your eyes didn't sparkle when you smiled at me anymore.
You left me. You left me and fell for some *****.
So I gave myself a slash on each ******* wrist and I replayed our story in my head.
I didn't get a chance to put it on paper because I was already dead.

Breathe in. Breathe out.
Pull hair back.
Put on lipstick.
Fix eyeliner.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Adjust skirt.
Cover scars.
Tie shoes.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Don't lose control.
Don't lose control.
Don't lose control.

I always wondered
What it would be like to stare at the sky
And be at peace with the demons in my head.
I always wondered
What it felt like to wake up every day
With a peace of mind.
I always wondered
How other people feel when they wake up.
Do the dread the day ahead of them?
Do they feel anxious?
Do they slap on a fake smile, too?
I always wondered
Why am I the way I am
And why haven't I gotten better.
And maybe I'm not supposed to get better.
But maybe... Just maybe, I am.