Why did i think you could do no wrong?
I was utterly convinced you’d always protect me.
Little did i know you were secretly the monster i feared.
Living with this constant question of
Is it abuse if they love you? if you love them?
Am i ever going to heal from this?
Maybe one day i’ll have my answer(s).

~

People like to ask a lot of questions, their
Invasive prying has me feeling violated all over again.
Eager to learn the details of one of the most painful nights of my life.
Tell me again what you’d have done differently, when you should be
Reveling in the fact that you can’t relate.
Only one person is to blame for what happened and that’s him.

woke up, said good morning
hope one day i’ll actually mean it

do i look as empty as i feel?

i’ve been thinking about you
i like the idea of you thinking about me

what i’m doing is unhealthy and awful and yet i keep doing it

i’d rather argue with you than be with someone else

i didn't mean to hurt you
but i'll do it again

wish i could tell you what you mean to me
wish you’d believe me if i did

i love you but i’m not what you want/need

did my love for you make you feel anything?
did i at least make you feel something?

may you find the peace you seek

will i be homesick forever?

i hope you know i meant every word of it

all this love will **** me but i don’t think i mind

take my hand, take my whole life too


it’s not only a bad day




people come and go
their loss

these tears will come and go

you couldn’t do anything to me
i wouldn’t do to myself

you’re ruining everything

you killed me with that final kiss goodbye

i never stopped loving you
i hope you’re well

my love, my sweet, this pulsing beat
ringing in my ears
a heartbeat in my stomach
head heavy and  d r a g g i n g
nodding out, nodding off
getting off
she did
who did?
jill, jacking off
hijack my life
jumpstart my words
I am plugged in
ready for the ride
shaking fits, out of control
can't help it
help me
things are spinning X
i guess this is why they call me
blackout girl

i had a dream about you last night.

i’m wearing mismatched socks.
my face, bruised and ******
my body, slumped
in the corner of the handicap stall.
you’re standing above me
smiling, happy even.

“not happy, just killing time”.
your voice so soft, so sweet
the perfect lullaby
to put me to sleep.
i pass out from your love.

i woke up this morning
phone cord wrapped around my neck.
felt like a noose,
felt like you.
“i didn’t mean to hurt you”
(but you’ll do it again).

cigarettes in the backyard.
crossed legs on the patio table.
it feels like my stomach is filled with acid
and my head is filled with smoke.
you grabbed me and it stung like a bee.
i want to drink ’til i forget you.
i want to get so high that i forget myself.

i’m no angel.
i’m just a little dolly who gets broken easily.
i’m an artist using their own body as a canvas,
razor blades for brushes, blood for paint.
be a disaster with me.
ruin me with your eyes,
fill my soul with *****
and break my bones.

i’m feeling emotionally dead inside.
like forgotten flowers in the attic,
unfilled holes in the ceiling.
i’m hollow.
like vintage television sitcoms,
trap doors in old houses.

the chambers of my heart are filled
with cobwebs and spider eggs.
eyelids swollen shut.
mud up to my ears;
i’m choking on worms.
you’re killing me
but a very muffled “i forgive you”
still manages to escape my lips.

there is no remedy for a sickness quite like this.

the day i was cast out into the world
through *******
they looked between mine
and declared, simply:
“it’s a girl”.

we’re taught to be ashamed
of who we are
that people like me, like us,
are freaks of nature.

told me the body i was given
this body, is sacred.
that i should never tamper with it.
that it’s blasphemous to trespass
on divine territory.

(who knew i could be a trespasser in my own home?)

you point to the sky,
tell me
god doesn’t make mistakes.
turn that finger back on me, on us,
spew ridicule for the ones we’re supposedly making
for merely having the courage to be.

what is it that makes doctors and parents alike
so reluctant to believe that
there are other colors out there
besides pink and blue?

the lines are blurring ––
[**** robin thicke]
this is not a phase.
this choice was not mine to make
(unlike the one you made for me).
don’t tell me who or what i am.

i didn’t climb out of one box
just to be shoved into another.

she's inside me.
sitting in the back of my throat.
i can feel her presence there,
feel her beckoning me.
i reach my hand out to take hers but
she's always just out of reach.

all she brings is pain.
i don't even know her name.
but i love her anyway.

the stench of nicotine still lingers on my fingertips.
i go to scratch my nose,
catch the smoke,
and prepare for the nausea to peak.
but it doesn't.
this time something's different.
i no longer think of my grandfather,
his face wrinkled and worn, his eyes sunken, lying in a hospital bed surrounded by those he loves and who love him.
grieving a life not yet lost.
no.
i no longer think of my grandfather,
but you.
of you and me sitting in your backyard.
the sun soundly sleeping while the moon keeps watch.
sitting with you, i felt invincible.
even with the nicotine flowing through my veins,
the dopamine hitting my brain.
i feel invincible.

i'll never think of you as 'the one that got away'.
i stayed.
i stood by your side.
you're the one that let go of my hand.

‪uh oh
i'm hearing voices again ‬
‪uh oh
it's getting bad again ‬
‪she won't leave me alone ‬
‪constant chattering in my ear ‬
‪she won't let it go ‬
‪there's too much of me already ‬
‪it shouldn't be this way ‬
‪good girls stay quiet and out of sight ‬
‪the best girls cease to exist at all ‬
‪don't worry though i'm on my way out
almost there
i'm so close i could TASTE IT  ‬
‪(that is ‪if i remembered how to)

sometimes it's hard
just to pick up a fork.
i find myself too weak, arms too limp.
excuses
upon
excuses
piled like a house of cards,
one breeze and i’ll blow away with it.
you won’t be able to catch me,
to stop me,
i can’t even do that myself.

my heart is heavy,
stomach empty,
i still struggle to eat daily but i’m trying.
i do it just to spite those voices in my head  
when i should be doing it for me, but
it’s hard to block them out  
when they sound a lot like my mother.

sometimes it’s hard
just being alive,
hard to get out of bed when
the weight of the world is pressing down on you.
hard not wanting to die
when the sweet release of these demons is all you find yourself
thinking about,
dreaming about anymore.
dreams of floating through the sky
like the clouds passing;
i’m jealous of the way they hang there, gracefully.
i want to be just like them but
i can’t trust myself not to
fall
back
down
to earth.
i’ve done it too many times before.

i’ve got to remind myself that
recovery takes time.
i’ll never unlearn the calories in a raspberry
but at least now i can drink a glass of orange juice
without shedding a single tear.
sure it’s laced with *****
but don’t worry. it’s not a problem
it’s a coping method,
one you might not approve of but one that works, see
over time the scars on my arms have faded.
heart less heavy,
stomach still empty.
well, not completely empty.
but that’s progress right?

we lie here on the grass;
our bodies in blankets
our lives in a shambles,
staring up at the sky.
the stars, so beautiful,
but nothing compares to the twinkle in your eyes.

I am wilting from the pressure 
it's been so long since I felt pleasure 

I'm trying to find the positive 
to feel the sunshine on my skin
but the storm clouds they won't leave me 
there's too much darkness deep within

I never saw myself as a flower 
but I can still feel myself wilting 
(so it must be true)

i don’t count aloud anymore.
i can't stand to hear your name,
such a common word.
it doesn't matter the context-
i still go quiet every time.

i used to pick up pennies, called them lucky.
i remember picking up a few
on our way back to your place.
nowadays i don't give them a second glance.
it's not their worth i've forgotten.

they say one is the loneliest number.
is that why you did it?
because you felt you’d earned it
after all this time being by yourself--
that you deserved it?
what about me,
did i?

i remember exactly what i wore that day:
short shorts, a big baggy t shirt.
i haven't worn those shoes since (and i so loved them).
they were these expensive purple velvet platforms;
i'd actually had to beg my mother to buy them for me.
"you better wear them", she warned.
that day i went home with you was
the first time i'd ever worn those shoes.
and the last.
sorry mom.

alone again.
on your own again.
he’s staying,
you're leaving.
but what’s left
behind?
he is.
your hopes and dreams.
your future.
your love.
where are you going that
is more important than those?
why leave what makes you happy
if it only makes you miserable
to leave what you've known
for the unfamiliar?
there are no refunds here.
think about this,
thoroughly.
do you really want to go?
but also:
can you really see yourself staying
here forever?
you come to us for answers to
questions you can’t even admit to having.

all she had were the memories,
which were fading away.
they left her slowly,
until she herself began
to fade away with them.

she believed that she had nothing,
and so that’s what she became.

you tell me you’re afraid
but what exactly are you afraid of?
are you really so put off by change,
or do you just hate the idea of no longer
having a damsel in distress to rescue?
when you first met me i was as low as i’ve ever been.
popping pills and drinking myself away.
dragging blades across my skin and dreaming of
painting portraits with my blood (as if i could be an artist).
acting pathetic, psychotic, self destructive.
but you fell for me anyway (for god knows what reason).
maybe because you were hurting too
and thought it’d be nice to
focus on somebody else for a while.

so tell me, how’s that been working out for you?

darling,
there is no need to be ashamed
of being broken.
there is always a way to
put yourself back together again.
and though there might be
remaining gaps and cracks,
that doesn’t make you
worthless
or undesirable.

darling,
there is no need to be afraid.
you see, the cracks may be
the result of darkness and destruction
but that is not all they are.
they are also what will let the light back in.
they will help to fill you up,
one sunbeam at a time.

poor girl using her own body as a canvas.
blades as brushes and blood as paint.
to recount her life story
into a single illustration,
before the clock runs out
and the book finally shuts.

February 1, 2014
11:42 PM

i really don’t know how much longer i can do this
you know, this whole ‘life’ thing
i’m barely living as it is
self-loathing day in and day out
i barely eat and when i do i just try to bring it back up
i rarely sleep and the only way my eyes can close
is when they’re swollen and puffy from the hysterical
tears i shed into my torn up pillow

i know for a fact that you can’t possibly
put up with me for much longer
one day you’ll be at the end of your rope
and you’ll use it to escape this
dysfunctional ‘life’ you’re sharing with me
so you don’t have to ever waste your time
thinking about me again
or ever have to waste your breath on me
to utter that three-worded lie:
"i love you"

i’m sorry for being me
i’m sorry for crying all the time
and for making you uncomfortable
with my constant tears and tantrums
i’m sorry for the scars on my arm that don’t fade
and for the mental ones in my mind that might not ever
i’m sorry for doing everything the wrong way
and i’m sorry you fell in love with me
you deserve a good life with a good woman
and you have neither with me in the picture
all i seem to be able to do is make you upset
or make you angry at yourself
please don’t hit yourself again, darling
i saw you that one time when you were in the shower
i know it’s hard being with me
but please don’t take it out on yourself

it’s my own fault i’m like this
and i don’t expect you to fix me
i’ve been broken far too many times
and for far too long
to ever be put back together again
i’m sorry for being difficult and unmanageable
but i can’t help but feel responsible for all your pain
i’m sorry i do this to you time and time again
i’m sorry i make you happy one day only to make you cry the next
i’m sorry i can’t be beautiful and happy like the other girls
i’m sorry for being sorry i know you hate that
i guess i just **** up so regularly that apologizing has become
the one (and only) thing i’m truly good at

February 1, 2014
10:52 PM

i keep pausing between messages
hoping that you'll come online
and tell me in a rush just how much you love and miss me
but that'll never be the case because
no matter how long i wait
i know you're not coming back
i'm on my own
alone in my head
vulnerable and weak from the constant buzzing going on in there
i do not like what the voices have to say but they get so chatty at nighttime
and it's getting harder to tune them out

i just want to be in your arms
i always feel safe when i'm with you
but you're miles away doing who knows what
though i'm sure thinking about me is not included on that list
you aren't here and i don't know if i can fall asleep
with this chatter in my brain
and this emptiness in my head and my heart and this room
it's all much too big for me i feel so tiny and
my bed feels huge without you here to take up the other half
or to hog the blanket when it gets cold

my thoughts are loud but the voices are louder
and they will keep getting louder throughout the night
i doubt i’ll be able to sleep much tonight
but if i do manage to silence my demons and put them and myself to rest
i know i’ll only dream of you because you’re
all i ever seem to think about anymore
even when i’m unconscious and have no control over
which memories my brain chooses to thumb through

my eyes burn from staring at this screen all day
i really deserve a break but can never find the time
to just let myself be free and happy and simply okay with myself
it’s what i really want and what i should be doing with my time
but instead i’ll just sit here in bed thinking about you
i won’t move a muscle i’ll just hide here in the dark
thinking about you and what we were and what we could have been
dreaming about you during the night and
daydreaming about you during the day
no time to eat or drink or bathe or sleep or breathe or live
only ever time to think and wonder and cry
and write down my messy feelings in
a way that appears to be poetic
but really is ****

January 19, 2014
12:21 AM

the tiny galaxies in my mind
behind my eyes have burst
temporarily blinded, the world is lost in darkness
****** into a black hole where am i
where am i going and how will i get there now
maybe by bus or by train
riding on the back of a shooting star
or the wings of a monarch butterfly
oh darling will you be my starlight
my everlasting sunshine
and guide me through this
everlasting absence of it
will you hold my hand
and promise to never let go
to never let me fall into the abyss?
i've fallen enough in my life and
by enough i mean once and
that one time was ‘in love with you’

your fingertips glide across my skin;
tracing the curve of my back and
all the faults that reside thereof.

scars,
dimples,
birthmarks,
s t r e t c h marks.

these little imperfections
appear to be not just here,
but everywhere
on my godforsaken body.
they are all so uniquely diverse,
yet i find myself loathing
each and every one of them.

your touch sends
a sudden shiver racing down my spine,
as if a wire were tied around it,
sending electric waves throughout my body.

i can feel the goosebumps forming,
and the familiar chill that comes with them.
they spread [across my body] like wildfire,
making them a contradiction.

my pulse quickens,
and i find myself feeling restless.
as the night goes on,
i cannot help but give in
to the terribly obscene thoughts
that i have for you.

the kind of girl
who loves the world
but can't stand to live in it.
who loves to cook
but can't get herself to eat.
who loves to write
but fails to express herself.
because all she feels is 'numb'.

the kind of boy who
has a big heart
but doesn't know how to use it.
who gives to others
and helps them as much as he can
but doesn't leave enough time
to help himself.
who wants to be the hero
but doesn't realize
that you can't save everybody
(especially those who
do not want to be saved).

a girl with a shattered heart
and tear-stained cheeks
found in her room with
slashed wrists
and blood-stained sheets

you may not
believe in god,
but your body
is a temple
and deserves
to be treated as such.

it is difficult to hide
the scars that are not
branded on the skin.
for there is no sweater
for your mind,
no sleeves to roll down
and cover up
the brutal marks
within.