My entire life,
I have been waiting.
For years,
Almost two decades now
I have been waiting.
Waiting,
For the better parts.
Waiting,
For the “soon”.
Waiting,
For my life to begin.
Because,
I don’t feel like I have lived.
In the nearly twenty years
I have been alive
And breathing
I do not feel
In any of those years
That I have been alive.
I don’t feel like a single breath
That I have taken
Has been real.
I feel as if
All these years
I’ve been stuck
Behind a window
Watching as my life unfolds
Before me.
I feel that
I have had
Zero control.
That I am in the backseat
Letting someone else drive.
That someone else,
Is writing on the pages
Of MY life.
But no more.
I will break that window,
I will take that wheel,
And I will write
My own pages.
My life has begun,
And now -
I’m in control.

When I was young,

I found out I could become invisible.

I didn’t notice straight away,

but there were moments over time,

In the day to day where people,

Would see through me,

As though I was air.

It took time to figure out,

As all skills do.

But it seemed the more I desired it,

The more it illuded me.

At the moments I needed it most,

It was not there.

And at the moments I wanted to be seen, or helped, or loved…

It worked.

I have bared my soul,
Spoke my truth,
To all who would listen.

I walked through the flames,
Wondering if I would be burned,
Or scarred on the other side.

I wore it like a badge of honour,
Spoke through tears in my eyes,
And a lump in my throat.

And they did not stop me,
I stopped, I breathed, I spoke,
Composed my truth through broken sobs.

I felt the fear course through my heart,
Saw my pulse beat under my t shirt,
And proceeded to show them my hurt.

I expected rejection, repulsion at my weakness,
But I was revered and my bravery applauded,
Reborn through their kindness and acceptance.

Baptised through the fire of my own heavy truth,
The reward a sea of calm waves and white clouds and endless space,
And a lightness I have not companioned in some time.

Like an old friend inviting you to come inside.
Familiar. Comforting.
It will grasp you in its arms and hold you close;
And when you're ready to leave, it wont let you go.
You will beg and plead to be happy,
and it will put up a fight.
It will make you think that the only way to escape it is to take your own life.
If you are lucky, you can break free;
and it will sit and watch you from afar.
Calling your name.
Welcoming you back into it's arms.
It will intrude your thoughts.
Make you think you are worthless.
That you're better off dead.
Just keep telling yourself that it's all in your head.
Keep moving. You will get far.
Depression is not who you are.

Someday you’ll love you.
From the sparkle in your eye,
To the pitch of your laugh,
Even the color of your hair.

You will love every part,
From every wrinkle,
To every crinkle,
Every part of you.

But they will try to tear you down,
To make you frown,
To make you think you’re not worth it.

But darling you listen to me.

From the way you walk,
To the way you talk,
You will be mocked,
But don’t you listen.

From your weight,
To your height,
You are all wonderful to me.

Maybe one day you’ll see,
The beauty I see.
The way you were made,
So beautifully.

But until then,
Do not forget,
On how true beauty,
Comes from within.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never go home again.
My room will sit unused,
A capsule frozen in time,
A snapshot of how I was.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my dog again.
She will sit at the front door
Waiting for me and wondering,
Why I never came home.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never graduate from high school.
My yearbooks will sit stacked
Stopped short of their goal,
Missing years that should have been.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my mom again.
She will sit distraught,
Planning a funeral
For a child taken from her.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my friends again.
They'll sit together, missing me.
One empty seat among them,
A constant reminder of their loss.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my little sister again.
She will sit through high school
Knowing I can't guide her through,
That she has to figure it out alone.

If I die in a school shooting
My school will be stained.
Pools of students lives will sit,
Blood tattoos on the brick structures,
Marks of death ground into it.

If I die in a school shooting
Everyone will wear black.
They'll send their thoughts and prayers
To a town marred by death,
Forever to be the home of a shooting.

If I die in a school shooting
Will the world change?
Or will I become one of hundreds  
Of kids who have to die?
What will it take?

If things continue this way
Children will have to live in fear.
They'll look over their shoulders
Always worried and wondering,
If they'll die in a school shooting.

We cannot write silence.
The beats.
The pause.
The breath.
The way it aches
and persists

and begs that,

if only for a moment,

our consciousness is only a whisper.
our bodies,
our lips,
the air that passes through falling chests
and stillness.

A melody of emotion.
Sleeping in the quiet of a heartbeat skipped
a word lost to the wind.

The wickedness of reticence
Encapsulated in air and time.

The moment stretched too long.
Hesitation perpetuated in the grip of fingernails
pressed into palms.

We cannot write silence,
but we can try.

to find a way to immortalize emotion
to create space
in the ceaseless drone of words that speak and spin.

I cannot write silence. But I can write
tears and years
and the burn of long-stretched lies.

I can write goodbyes and hellos
And dozen ways to say
I love to hate you
Or
I hate to love you
and sometimes
I cannot tell the difference.
Silence.
The space I have upheld for myself.

I love to hate you
Heart.

I hate to love you too.

I cannot write silence.
But I know it.
and I have held it in my hand.