I kept punishing myself for not being whole after four years
But I didn’t realize that if I never spoke about it
I was never going to get any where in my recovery
So I finally began the process to victory
It is one of the hardest things I have ever put myself through
I am grateful for each tear I am shedding
Because I know they get me one step closer to being new
For every panic attack and punishment I have done to myself
I apologize for not beginning my path to recovery sooner
I am a work in progress and I am getting better

sometimes i think about killing myself
i have these roots and stems planted within me
but i only let the roses blossom on my skin
this is what is acceptable
you can’t start a conversation with “hey, i might hurt myself today”
i don’t know exactly where things got away from me
i can’t pinpoint the location where i fell apart again
all i know is it seems like it’s getting too hard to pretend that everything is okay
i started therapy again yesterday
there is a part of me that thinks there is a way to get better
there is a part of me that knows there isn’t

When I was ten I used to believe some pretty silly things
I believed my sister when she told me
That marshmallows were made out of whale blubber
I believed that all the monsters in the world
Would totally be repelled by my covers
I believed that taking 40 baby aspirin would **** me
And I only found out it wouldn’t after I tried
When I found out that other than a stomach ache
I was left completely fine
I first attempted suicide at the age of 10
And I don’t know if that’s where anyone else has been
But I really ******* hope not
I found out at age 14 that monsters, real monsters
Are the ones who actually slip under your sheets
Plucking out your innocence before you can even realize
That they are monsters that will hold your hand as they **** you
Make you believe that you are okay
But 4 years down the road you still won’t be able to breathe or concentrate
When you hear their name
Or when the anniversary of the day rolls around
You won’t be able to choke out any sound to ask for help
You can no longer let people in
Afraid they will blow you up like a balloon just to pop you with a razor sharp pin
I wish I could go back to believing in the silly things
I wish I could go back to flying in my dreams
Instead of drowning and being ripped at my seams

There's more to suicide than what we think it is.
It's not just unanswered questions,
sometimes, it's unasked ones.