Hiding behind my smile.
Hiding  behind the sparkle in my eyes.
Hiding behind who I am inside.
Hiding behind the tears I cry.
Hiding behind one big lie.

Hiding from the voices in my head.
Hiding from the blood I've shed.
Hiding from the pain I've caused.
Hiding from all my flaws.

Hiding all the scars I've made.
Hiding all my razor blades.
Hiding all my feelings still.
Hiding what i wish wasn't real.

Deep down I can see the real me,
that's all covered up by this scarred body.

One day I won't have to hide who I am,
I will come out from my mind, be proud of who I am.

It’s been a while…
It truly has been a while since I’ve written here, but yesterday I was triggered, inspired if you will; inspired to write this and let it be real.
When I was a child, 2nd grade to be exact, I befriended a ******* the school bus and long story short she spent my entire 2nd grade year manipulating me into all kinds of ****** acts not only with her but with other classmates. I was told by this girl, my classmate, another child, a second grader that everything we were doing was okay, it was all okay. Why?? Because her and her sisters did this kind of thing all the time.
To me as a child it made sense I guess, but she also threatened that if I ever told anyone as in ANYONE she would tell them it was all my fault all my idea. All of the staying in classrooms when no one was there, hiding and being told to do things that were beyond a child’s or even some adult’s comprehension, the hiding anywhere and everywhere and the fear of being caught it all was in my hands, and if i told I was to blame.
This went on for an entire year, or so who knows I blacked it out, but I vividly remember using a journal I got as gift to document it all detailed and when I got scared my mom would find it… I ripped the pages to shreds. And I killed the memory. I went my entire life until 19 years old that I realized it was never a dream.
It was real.
The point of this all is during a deep discussion With my best friend, I expressed to her the moment after all these years that remembered the girls name.
I told her one day my mom found a different journal I wrote in as a child, she found it a couple years ago and I was intrigued so I flipped to a random page… and on that page it was a prompt that asked my favorite and least favorite things about school.
My least favorite thing about school is: J**h .
There it was!!! Her name .
I told my best friend her name and seeing as though after I left the school district she stayed, we recalled the girl and how I can’t see her face in my mind but she knew she had a twin sister and they left the district after 2nd or 3rd grade and they came back in middle school. However by middle school I had transferred schools.

Long story short it shock my entire being that I missed this encountering this girl again . And I will never know her face or why she chose me but all I know is she was just the beginning of my trauma.

Knife in right hand.
left arm ready.
Shaking,Trembling, your eyes are heavy.
Strike the blade across swiftly to get it over with quickly.
Feel the burn
Feel your bad day go away.

Just one cut, not enough
try again. and again. and again. and again.
Salty tears stream down your face
one more cut will do the trick
then you're numb for just a a bit.
Until tomorrow, when things go wrong
the voices start when you're alone

You make more slits
you're left with red scars
little battle wounds
you can see them
feel them
hide them too.
you seek no attention just a little relief
relief thats self inflicted on your own body.

Small cuts do the trick
for now at least
never question superficial wounds
just cover them up
until theres no more room.

It begins the same way it ends.
Fluorescent combinations of photonic crystals,
Burning beneath my skin, into my gaping soul.
These are my lights.

Gripping tightly to is base, holding it steady,
Peer through its open lense.
Record each and every moment.
This is my camera, so let it commence.

Take 1.
A mother wails as her baby rolls out.
Physicians stagger in, along with nurses.
NICU is now home to the baby girl who
Came 2 months before she was due.
02/01/1995 - the unforgettable date that
I changed my family’s lives.

Take 2.
Fast forward to when everyone else’s
Nightmare’s become my reality.
The thoughts took over my anatomy,
Constricting blood vessels in my brain
And with every heartbeat those enlarged
Vessels collided with my skull – throbbing.
A rainbow of pasty pills dissolved on my tongue,
Releasing their chemicals into my ocean-like blood stream.

Take 3.
Every waking day had not only become a
Physical struggle but in fact a psychological endeavor.
The thoughts hindered my perception of reality,
Just as cumulous clouds darken the suns light.
Back seat riding with my negativity leading
Me through a tunnel of self-destruction.

Take 4.
Addicted.
To the bottle, the drugs, and the razor blade.
Addicted.
The dullness of the liquor,
The euphoric journey the drugs took me on and,
The intoxicating aroma the blood gave off
As it poured down my wrist
Shaped my addictions to that of self-annihilation.
Those were my Actions.
It ends the same way it began.
Fluorescent combinations of photonic crystals
Burning beneath my skin, into my gaping soul.
Now this is the end.

If my life was a Motion Picture;
I would go back and film it again,
But this time validating true happiness.

I have been in such a place of peace and pure happiness the past few months, but now I can’t tell because maybe I’m moving too quickly or if it’s truly just not the right time.
I’m beginning to question everything and I wonder if My desire to have someone to love me takes over the idea that possibly the ones I chose to love are not ready to love me the way I’m ready to love them.
I’m afraid that if I wait, I will still get my heart broken, I’m afraid that walking away will also be a blow to my heart, the fact that risks can involve being uncomfortable altogether but is the risk really worth the level of uncomfortable this may bring.