I don't think I'm okay with you filling in the space between my fingers.
It scares me that I could ruin such a beautiful thing with one sentence.
I don't like things that begin
Because they always have to have an end.
What goes up must come down
I hate the coming down part.
So let's not begin
Let's never start so that we
Never
Have
To stop.

I am trying to turn over a new leaf
I am going to smile more on the inside
I am going to try and think positive
I am going to make goals
I am going to reach them
I will become a better person
I want to help others
I want to help myself
I have hope that I can do it
I don't have to be perfect but
I have to keep trying.
Just like the Marathon runner doesn't give up when he is tired
I am going to be strong
Be better
I know I will have falls
But if I just stand up and keep sprinting
I know I can make it
We all can.

When I was five my mom taught me how to count to ten.
I liked the number ten
I thought that I could rule the world cause I knew how to count to ten.
I could play hide and seek now
I could make a hopscotch
I could be like my older sister
The number ten made me so happy.
When I was six I went to kindergarten
Counting to ten was baby stuff
But I still liked ten
My kindergarten teacher taught me that counting to ten ten times makes one hundred.
I cried to my mom when I got home
It seemed too complicated
So I kept counting to ten
Life was easier when only numbers one through ten existed.
When I was twelve there was a group of mean girls
Ten of them
I didn't like the number ten
that much anymore.
Cause according to them it was
How much weight I needed to lose (10lbs)
How many of my friends hate me (10)
How high I would score on a test (10%)
I could always hear them coming
all their ten steps in sync
Walking in a V
They were a flock of birds
Getting ready to attack a poor penguin who couldn't fly like them.
When I was sixteen all of the mean girls went to a different school.
I didn't have to be with the ten anymore.
I had to be with myself
I lost 10 lbs
Plus extra
I have no friends now, turns out the ten friends I had really didn't like me.
When I was sixteen boys would line up one through ten
One and two would make me cry
I told three and four that they were a waste of time, they would just hurt me
I gave five a chance
He broke me
The other five didn't get to know me
Even though they tried
They could never really know me
The me who liked only the numbers one through ten.
The me who cries at night remembering the monsters
The me who hates myself
I fake it so well
I put up a wall
Ten bricks up
Ten bricks across
My second grade teacher would have asked me how many bricks I used
But it doesn't really matter anymore
Cause behind that wall I'm self destructing
I wish I only had to count 1-10

I tried
I tried to hold it in
I tried not to interrupt
I wish I was nothing
Why can't I be a shadow
Getting lost behind movement
Fading into the background
I tried to hide the monster inside of me
It just promised to come out
The shadows ripped it out with their teeth
My teacher thought I was being dramatic maybe she would get it if she was locked in my mind for a day.
It has ups and downs
Why is anything there
I wish that I could disappear into nothing
No future
No past
It sounds sad
But relaxing
I know this is a jumbled mess
This is post anxiety attack
Sorry I'm trying to calm down
To talk reasonably with myself
I can't
All it comes back to is how I break everything.
Well I guess this poem doesn't have an end.
It wasn't really a poem anyways.

It hurts to pretend all the time
It hurts to fake life
It hurts to find what's hidden under your skin
It hurts to look in the mirror
It hurts to stand on the wrong number
It hurts hating yourself.
It hurts when you don't live for yourself anymore
I don't know why I am alive
I ruin everything
I ruin people
I break things
I don't know what I'm saying
I don't know why I am typing
I don't know anything anymore
Including myself

it sweeps across you with a loathsome eloquence,
Weaseling it's way into you,
Grasping for your hopes and dreams.
Soon you find yourself upside down
Choking on what you once were.
The feeling is inevitable.
You're desperately seeking for your effervescent personality.
Its been drained from you, seeping out into a puddle at your toes.
You're left standing there as an outline.
There is nothing inside of you anymore, just empty space.
No matter how hard you try to fill yourself in, you will never be how you were before.
Don't bother trying to retrace the lines

Art
Art is a way for people to express themselves.
Art is taking what is in your head and making it real.
I could watch someone draw or paint for hours.
Watching them carefully trace all of the shadows in their minds
There is something about art that grabs my eyes and makes them stay
The musicians create music to compose a fraction of what is in their head
Dancers use the music like a canvas and their bodies as the paintbrush
Art is getting lost
Its becoming something to brag about.
Art is not caring who sees or hears it
Because you need it more than anything else.
But by default you have an effect on other peoples lives.