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Rachel Julia Oct 2015
It was stupid.
Waves crashed and the wind was cold.
I shivered and i wanted to change my mind
could i back out now
I grabbed the hand next to me and we ran and we jumped
it was fast but slow
the air was cold for a second until the water hit.
there was no feeling
I was under the water
thinking was gone and my lungs did the talking screaming to my mind
“get up get out you
air, now, now”
i open my eyes and i can see black and blue and the water is over my head
the bubbles and curls and waves of the water break away as my head is pushed up.
i gasp at the air and fill my lungs with the hot gas of life.
my limbs and body have become weights
but i dont sink
I push my body through the water and it takes all the strength i have
when i reach the ladder I grasp with a hand i cannot feel i stand with my feet and the journey up that ladder takes two lifetimes
then i'm up
it is the coldest i have ever felt
I run and i breathe
you never know what being alive feels like until you feel like you are almost done being alive
it was very very stupid
suddenly everything was hot
air was hot
ground was hot
my skin
my eyes
my dripping wet hair
hot hot hot
hours passed of feeling hot and cold and  breathing
it's strange to think that something so stupid made me feel so strong
Rachel Julia Oct 2015
Dear world,
    I have something I have been dying to tell you.

For some time I have known something about myself that most of you don’t.
        I know myself better now than I ever have before.

So I have decided to end my hiding.
to let myself live in the light from now on

I spent far too long wondering how you would react when I told you.
Now I know,
how you react is not my choice
it is yours alone
I am who I am
I cannot change and I don’t even want to
I am not ashamed
I am no longer afraid

Your acceptance and love is valuable
but I can stand on my own feet
and
when I my feet get tired and my legs grow weak
they will catch me.
I am loved
I am accepted
And love overcomes all.

So when finally break down the final wall of this cage and I tell you
***
Whether you choose to love me for me
or not
I will be okay
because
I am loved
I am accepted
and I am strong
We are strong and we are not going away

I am the same me
I will speak
I will be a voice for the voiceless
I will be me
and I will never be silent
This poem was written during my coming out process. The line of ****** is meant to be a place for any sort of confession or truth to be placed. For me it was, "that I am gay" but this line can chance for any person or situation. If you are working on coming out or anything else like that please feel free to use my poem if you would like. I would like to ask for credit of some sort if you repost. Thank you for reading. x
Rachel Julia Oct 2015
my hands tell a story
of living.
a story of being happy, sad, hopeful, and hopeless.
my hands say where i’ve been
and hold the knowledge to where I will go.
my hands see the people I have touched,
the tears I wiped away, the things I grasped,
and those that I should have let go of.
my hands are big, dexterous, and strong.
they touch, type, and hold.
I have seen
the wonder my hands can create.
my hands mold, shape, and color.
they wear rings, polish,
dirt, sweat, bruises, cuts,
and scars.
my hands hold in every variation
a memory.
my hands know me.
Rachel Julia Oct 2015
In my life I have never been *****, sexually assaulted, or catcalled
But your **** jokes make the spark inside of me grow to a raging fire.
Because although I have never been *****, sexually assaulted, or catcalled there is a nearly 1 in 5 chance that I will ***** in my lifetime.
Your **** jokes are not funny. Maybe you thought it was okay to say it Because you were with people who had never been *****. But maybe they just didn't tell you. Only 16% of rapes are reported to law enforcement. Your seemingly innocent joke may bring back memories they battle every day. Your **** joke puts the abrasive words right back into the attacker's mouth as they cut at the victim's skin. Your **** jokes have the power to remind  them of being blamed, of feeling completely helpless, of wanting to die. The words of your **** joke will undoubtedly bounce around in a victim's mind. Pushing each part of the brain until everything is happening over again.
Sometimes I have stayed silent when I heard a **** joke but from now on let it be known I won't stand for it. It's not just that **** jokes aren't funny but **** is not a joke. So next time the words of a **** joke come try to be let out, roll the sentence around on your tongue, close your lips, and remember that your joke isn't a joke to everyone
Rachel Julia Oct 2015
I hate labels.
so you may ask me why do you compulsively put words and purposes and dates and times on everything you have.
I hate labels but I love organization.
The problem with labels is they rarely tell the whole story.
Labels are short, just a snapshot of the essence that the thing or person boils down to
but I don’t believe anything can really be that simple.
Labels can make everything easier.
You get the main point, the thing that stands out, FAST.
but that’s like starting a story at it’s ******, you get no previous information and that high point that holds so much meaning if you've read the entire story turns flat.
A flat character doesn’t grow or change or feel all that much but they usually have a label.
Labels turn real multidimensional, complicated, interesting people into flat characters.
He is not gay.
She is not a cutter.
and He is not transgender.
They are real people and you cannot possibly fit a person into a single worded description of the thing that stands out about them or makes them different.  
That is not enough for me!
The gay guy likes ice cream and romantic comedies, he's afraid of commitment, that scar is from his own blade and he volunteers on Wednesdays.
The cutter is seventeen and she lives with her grandparents. Almost everybody shes loved has walked away.
She has hair the color of sand at the beach and she wants to work in security at the airport so she can finally have control over who leaves and who stays.
The transgender man never felt trapped in the wrong body, the world just told him that his body was wrong. He’s a freshman in college and nobody ever told him how hard it would be. He calls his mom every night because he knows she worries and he cares. He has skin the color of caramel and he desperately wants to get married.
I hope you now understand that a label is never never enough.
You could argue that I’m afraid of being defined and of defining others with just a word,
but if you ask me a fear of labels is a very legitimate, considerate, and justifiable fear to have.
Labels are simply not enough.
And that's why I hate labels.

— The End —