i was in denial, okay?
kept saying "oh no i'm fine"
"i'm on a rollercoaster that only goes up, my friend"
the number of times i've quoted augustus waters
makes me sick and embarassed
i'm not fine
the laws of physics state what goes up must come down
augustus waters was arrogant and scared
i lost, okay?
i used up all my adhesives
taping, gluing, buttoning, sealing,
then
painting a fresh coat of paint over my face every time picture-perfect image was blurred so you never knew
that i wasn't fine
so that when i looked in the mirror
i fooled myself, claiming the lines were just as unevenly drawn as always
i don't know if i'm ready to peel back all ninety-eight layers of paint
i don't know if i'd recognise the face beneath the plastic
but i know you will
so be careful
please
you win, okay?
you've won.

i'm not proud to say
i'm 85 lbs
that's not much of a girl
but i remember
when being 85 lbs
was all i ever wanted
when i craved a flat stomach
thin wrists
a gap between my thighs so wide
when i spent my days
filling my belly with water and air
taking lunches to school
but not eating them
instead tossing them in the trash because the smell of fresh fruit
made me sick
when i look in the mirror
i see the ghost and skeleton of a girl
who's in recovery
and i'm disgusted
85 lbs
is not much of a girl
i remember when all i wanted
was to be smaller, smaller
when i was 80 i wanted to be 75
75 wasn't enough so i kept purging til i hit 70
70 wasn't enough
65 wasn't enough
nothing would ever be enough
0 would never be enough
-10 would never be enough
i remember when they forced needles into my papery skin
i remember when 80 was enough for me to keep my life
and i remember
when i decided
i would always be enough

i write
because i have this stuff--i don't know what
inside of me
and it doesn't belong there
rotting away at my bones making them weak and my vision blurry
i'm a volcano spewing pain
trying to make sense of what i'm feeling
a tennis match between myself, a weakling
and twenty foot tall beasts of my imagination
i'm losing
and then
i'm winning
i'm turning my monsters into flowers that thrive best in volcanic ash
and i write
because i love seeing the flowers bloom

later
i'll tell you later
not now
not in two minutes
later
why?
because now
i am not stable
later
maybe i will be
or maybe i won't?
but maybe i will
later
i'll tell you
later
when my head is ******* on the right way and the world stops spinning so quickly
later
i won't forget, i promise
i'll tell you later

i'll make a wish on every dead dandelion i find
blowing my dreams away on every seed
hoping that they'll flutter away in the wind so far away from me and i'll hope that life may sprout from the ghosts of my past
why do we wish on dead dandelions?
why do i find them so hauntingly beautiful
i wish on dead dandelions
and their magic
i pluck them gently out of the ground and
****** my wishes upon them
i whisper
godspeed, dandelion
i'm relying
on you

i am a walking cliche
teenage girl
depressed
rarely smiles
long sleeves to cover my wrists
i have a secret
-roll of eyes-
don't we all...
i wear toms in the spring and
chuck taylors in the fall
my shoes match my moods
when the sun shines brightly and i'm wearing dresses for days
i'm weightless
and then the sun sets and the trees rattle fiercely in the wind and my shoes,
they bind my feet to the ground
i crawl into my hole and start piling on sweaters and blankets it's dark
i'm alone
the sun won't rise for another 6 months
until then i'll shuffle around until i can find the nearest exit
i'm a walking cliche

some people hide it better than others
but that doesn't mean they're not secretly wishing you'll care enough to dig deeper
the ones with smiles on their faces
are the ones begging someone might hear their cries
the ones who seem to have it all
have nothing
nothing

when will they stop watching
gawking
laughing
poking
prodding
shoving

when will they start caring
speaking
changing
helping
encouraging

when will she stop crying

when he stops dying

when they stop lying

they will start trying

close your eyes it's okay
your demons won't follow you there
they're afraid of the dark
i'm afraid of the dark
how am i supposed to sleep, mama?
shhh just listen
listen to the silence
they don't like silence, dearie
but i can't keep quiet, mama
i must speak i am afraid
shhh*
i...
okay
...
"shhh"

my math teacher once said that the reason superheroes came about in the USA was because americans are the ones who needed the most saving
i didn't know if i should've been offended on behalf of the kids in my class
my math teacher isn't american yet i found my mind wandering throughout his lesson on polynomials
i thought about super heroes in comic books
batman, superman, ironman, wonderwoman
someone had to do the saving
but they all saved the world
maybe they saved individuals i don't know
americans are the ones who need the most saving
we're the ones who need the most saving
teenagers are the ones who need the most saving
i'm the one who needs the most saving
not from batman or superman or wonderwoman
i need to be my own hero and
save myself

i'm the girl with the weird eyes and the made up name that no one tries to pronounce right
i'm the girl who says what she feels or rather
thinks she says what she feels
not actually speaking out of fear
i've always thought the meaning of my name is ironic
they told me it means "i belong"
my name is just a nickname
and its meaning, just a phrase
i don't belong anywhere
i'm the girl who chooses poetry over people
they call me weird
and i accept it
i'm the girl
just not their girl

don't leave me alone at night
i cannot keep going into battle
i know you need to sleep
and i know you're tired of riding this rollercoaster with me
i know you don't want any of this
i get it
yet i still scream in the middle of the night
there's no one to console me
to tell me that it was just a nightmare
when you leave
i'll try and learn how to console myself
i hope that you will return because nothing makes me feel safer than being in your arms
i feel like a little girl who needs saving
and maybe i am
too hopeful that you'll always be my knight in shining armour
i refuse to believe it will ever dull
though i know in my heart it will
for now
let me be the little girl who needs saving
whose fears subside at the sound of a song
don't leave me alone at night
or at least when you leave
make sure you switch on the light

familiar faces
roadside challenges
laughter that never stops
we're following the stars around the world to the soundtrack of our childhoods in phrases of
remember when...?
remember when we were fearless?
remember when we didn't know who sang that song about the girl who would be loved but sang along at the top of our lungs because it didn't matter?
remember when we could fix broken friendships with rootbeer flavoured dum-dum lollipops?
remember when we were 14 and i made you call your crush?
remember how you cried into my arms when he didn't say "i love you" back and it felt like the world was spinning too quickly?
remember that summer when we jumped off that cliff?
remember that summer...
remember when
one day soon
we'll all have jobs
husbands
wives
children to look after
we'll say
Remember in college how we took that roadtrip right before graduation?
remember how we almost didn't make it back in time?
How many of us will remember in old age?
carpe
Carpe
Carpe diem,
he said to us
and we did
we seized the hell out of that day
CARPE DIEM!
we ran into the night, high on life, shouting
all for one and one for all!
CARPE DIEM, FOREVER!

I'm just tired.
If I could tell you one thing right now,
it would be that I am just tired.
Of explaining my disease and how it affects me
Of constantly feeling like I have to give something to the world
What do you want from me?
What do I owe you?
I'm tired of conforming to society's ways because it won't accept me even though I accept me
I'm tired of waking up every morning in a skin that isn't mine yet one that I am forced to live in
I'm tired of giving justifications for things that should not need to be explained
And I'm tired of telling people I'm okay when I'm not
So if you ask me if I'm okay and I'm not,
I'm going to say so and ignore your flinches because I don't care what you think
I'm just tired.

I told myself
I would not write another depression poem
I told myself
I was done with blades and shaky breaths
But Depression
Is sneaky like that it
Always chooses the most unsuspecting as victims
I told myself
I'm not the kind of girl
Who chooses slicing and dicing
I told myself
You're the kind of girl who old ladies look at with a glint in their eye and say
She's going places
I told myself
Straight to hell
Everyone always told me
Go to college
Get good grades
Marry a nice man who will support you
No one ever told me
Not to write depression poems

“I need to write a poem”
Were the first words out of my mouth when my mother told me about
The Letters

One letter arrived one day, postmarked July 1st, 2014
I don’t know when it arrived, but that day
I guess that day her soul earned it’s wings
That day, that one day
My soul crumbled as hers rose to the heavens, with that piece of paper
that had Apology scrawled all over it in that handwriting of hers that
Didn’t change one bit

I was watching my family extra closely as my mother read the letter out loud
I didn’t want to see any of us hurt anymore even though I knew in my heart
We would get through this
We’re Zelinskis, strong and forgiving
We open our hearts to perfect strangers and welcome them into our home with hugs and laughter and game nights that don’t end at midnight
We are one in suffering and one in rejoicing
We wear the teachings of the bible on our shirtsleeves and kindness drip drops from our eyes
My dad says
We’re all children of christ

But Children still get hurt
My sister, she chose Laughter
My brother, his face was a blank canvas as I rubbed and rubbed, trying to see through the white blanket of paint that masked his emotions
My sister in law told me the Truth
My brother, I don’t know, I just hope he listens to his heart this time
My sister, she has a wedding to plan
Me,
Maybe I’m the only one who wanted to be angry
Maybe I’m the only one who sees their pain even though they can’t
Or maybe I’m delusional and no one’s really affected by the Letter

We’re still children
I’m still bouncing around the house, following the older kids around like a lost puppy
My sisters are still my heroes and my brothers
Are still my knights, my Protectors, the ones I could sass and make fun of because they
Did the same to me but with much more force than my small voice could carry
We’re still children
I know nothing of The Letters
Instead, I’m welcoming Her into our home again with a tray full of Grandma’s famous chocolate chip cookies and the goofy grin of a six year old
I’m meeting Her eyes again
Only this time
I know she’ll leave
This time, I know how much time I have

So I’ll write my letter now
And instead of remorse and anger
I’ll fill it with good times and Remember Whens
I’ll put it in the mailbox, swipe the red flag up
And wish on the mailman that you’ll get it

“It is time to write,” she says
I open a new Word Document.
A blank sheet.
My mind does not want to write an essay.
I write in verse and
chopped lines
not straight paragraphs that drone on and on about William Faulkner and his acceptance speech.
My mind, it drifts off and thinks in flowery words, much too flowery for an essay.
My fingers start typing and words appear on the screen.

Enter.
Type, type, type.
Enter. Type, type, type. Enter.

My thoughts appear in verse and William Faulkner goes unnoticed.

How many times have I written about the whirlwind of a storm inside my mind instead of
whether or not cohabitation is a good thing or
speeches about equal access and the themes in Harper Lee’s To **** a Mockingbird?
How many times have I given into my urge to write and relieve my brain of the pressure that gets built up instead of writing things that will earn me a grade?
The answer is often.
The grade,
Just a number
The conceptions?
Just words

What I write in procrastination?
Everything that bleeds from my heart.
The low grade I received on my speech because I couldn’t be bothered to write about horrid subjects when my soul yearned for something greater?
Worth it.

Once I met a man
who called himself
the Dark Poet
He spoke but quietly
in hushed tones of wisdom
Might I be a fool to check the year
but I could have sworn it was
the great Poe himself
reincarnated through this man
I laughed at the possibility of the truth and
shrugged off the obscure thought
he said I should laugh often
that the sound of laughter
is a sound the world has been deeply deprived of
there we sat on a park bench at dusk
with the fluorescent streetlight flickering above us, insects buzzing and dying
He spoke of treacherous times
and
the past that should have been left behind
He told me,
“The past, much like the present, is inescapable. Try as you might to let it go, but still will it linger in the dark crevices of your mind”
I asked him if he would want to relive the past
He folded his hands
There was something about the way he held himself that made him look so unnerving, yet naked and small
I immediately regretted my question, but he looked at me with a glint in his eye and whispered
"No, child.
As many days as I have seen of rain, I know that there will always come a rainbow. I look for the rainbow.
I do not wish to relive the past, because the rainbows I saw were the most beautiful rainbows in my life."
He stood up then, brushed off his pants, and walked away.
I sat on that park bench a while longer, pondering what had just happened
It started to rain, but I did not get up.
Instead, I let the rain soak through my clothes and chill my bones
I stayed on that park bench until it stopped raining.
Though the night was peculiar, I knew one thing was for sure;
I would always look for the rainbows.

She was a hurricane
a tempest so true
so strong and indestructible
blowing through existence
and soaking everyone
in her way
day by day
more fell wounded
from her rage
but ignorant
to the truth
inside
too big for the small town box she’s locked inside
she wants to matter
she dreamed of gettin’ out
for herself
yet she worries
what
if…
she was fighting a war within herself
endless heart wrenching vindictive battles
she lost
every
one
she’s drowning
she doesn’t care
she’s had enough
of the paper towns
the paper people
the paper lies
sooner or later
the paper will
tear
and
so
will
she

The colours of a mirror are foggy, but lucid
I don’t see my reflection,
But colours of a girl I remember being

Dark purples and greys, she’s bruised and scarred
Shards of glass line her hollowed out, bloodshot eyes
Ghostly pale, she’s barely alive

I watch as she transforms before me
Her colours are metamorphosis and she’s the revitalized butterfly
The greys and purples swirl into blues and whites

She’s stepping out of the shadow of who she was
The colours of the mirror are brighter, more vivid
I recognize this girl

The colours are clearly defined
I see shades of blues of sensibility and confidence
She’s stronger and exuding life

The colours of a mirror are the colours of honesty
I see my reflection
Not the girl I was

But the girl I am.

There’s so much pain and suffering in the world.

Who am I to ignore their cries?
The cries of desperation and yearning that go unheard
Into the foreign hours of the twilight zone
Become silenced

Hopelessness walks the streets
When most are sleeping
Restlessness is lurking and breathing life into the cold, dark air
The drunkards of the desolate bars
Passed out on park benches, broke and intoxicated

The clock strikes Twelve and time freezes
for a moment
Shadows of amorphous figures dance amidst the moonlight
Prancing through the city in their time
Racing down avenues and gliding between buildings

The lonely man taking a late night stroll becomes a wax-like statue in mid-stride,
His head hung low, hands in his pockets, and his shoulders hunched up around his neck
The trees, bare of leaves save for a few that haven’t fallen off yet in Winter’s attempt to come early
Stand tall in the pitch black, their silhouette merely outlined against the glow of Midnight

The clock strikes, motioning One o’Clock

All is silent

The suffering

The crying

The….

Dear Wish Granting Factory
I know you said you are not the world
But for a minute,
Can you be?

Dear Wish Granting Factory
You asked me what I would wish for
If you existed
Right now, in this moment, I believe
You exist

What do I wish for?
Oh, Wish Granting Factory
I wish to know the sensation of feet slapping against pavement and lungs burning so bad that you feel you are going to faint
I wish to know that the muscles in my fingers will not fail me when I spread them and cross my arms over to make the Nerdfighter gang sign
I wish to know what it is like to look at myself in the mirror and think
I like the way I look

Dear Wish Granting Factory
I wish to see myself clearly through the eyes of someone
That Someone Who will one day look at me like I am the most beautiful thing in existence
I wish to know that that love exists and it is not just a figment of my imagination
Dear Wish Granting Factory
Do William Darcys really exist?
If so, please point me in that direction so I can find him

Dear Wish Granting Factory
I wish to make a difference in this society in which I am the minority
That my voice may be heard loudly and clearly even though it trembles
That my story be told truthfully and I, a person, a human being with feelings and emotions and thoughts that are not invalid because I have a disability and are therefore “inept” am represented as I see myself
A strong, confident, young girl who is living her life the way she wants to see it and nothing will hold me back.
Disabilities do not define me now, nor will they ever

Dear Wish Granting Factory
I wish to live to see the day when I meet my birth mother and face her
As a stranger, though her daughter
And tell her these words
I love you
I forgive you
I missed knowing you

Dear Wish Granting Factory
Sincerely,
Z

I was taking a walk late one night because I couldn't sleep
Just a stroll around the neighborhood as I let my mind wander freely
I walked over to the playground where I used to pretend I was the queen of the world
I sat down on a swing
creeeek creeeek creeeek

Times have changed so drastically since I was young
I've seen four families move in and out of the house next door
I watched the old couple who used to walk their little white dogs disappear
First the dog, then the man
The woman stopped walking, too
The little girls who used to sell Girl Scout cookies from their rusted red wagon grew up and moved away

And that’s when I see her
sitting on her porch swing
gently rocking back and forth
back and forth
with an expression on her face that reads
save me from myself

her eyes, so sad, glisten in the moonlight
her hair
so straight and pale yellow like the straw in the hay bales at festival
cover her tearstained face
her hands
so delicate, yet strong

hunched over a notebook
she scribbles her woes
ink bleeds soul onto the paper
painting the most beautiful picture

a picture of misery and hunger
a picture of betrayal and twisted roads of insolence
a picture of anger and frustration
a collision of colours splashing the pages as she drowns herself
in tears

I take a couple steps back
This girl is so familiar
I know this girl

Might she be me?

Maybe tonight I’ll light a candle
and think of you while it burns
I haven’t done that in a while….
I’m beginning to understand
that we
weren’t meant to be together
but my heart aches for you
I started thinking of all the reasons
you put distance between us
Now I know why
When we were together
it was so hard not to fall in love with the way you smiled when you were nervous
the way you looked at me when you thought I wasn’t looking
the way you would brush my hair out of my face when I was reading in your lap
every time you took my hand in yours
I fell a little bit more into the deep abyss of Love
I know
you felt it too
It was too hard breathing as one
Our Love
wouldn’t go anywhere
You put distance
to protect me
You thought
things would be better
if we just stopped seeing each other
It worked.
But long restless nights I spend
walking along the sandy beaches in the moonlight
I’m reminded of our conversations and the way you held onto my hand just a bit tighter when I said I had to go
and I
miss
you.

This morninng, I woke up to the sun shining down on my face
Like literally, shining down on my face
My bed is beneath a window and my blinds are
always open so I can see the clear blue skies or stormy grey clouds
Nature is kind to me
Today I decided I was going to live and let go
It is summer so let me be free of the papers and test grades and numbers just numbers that I let manipulate me into being a sour, depressed person who hated everything and everyone
Let me walk out in the sunshine, face up towards the sky and out of this dark hole I've been hiding in
I will breathe in the warm air
Let the heat particles dance on my skin like eyes flicker in the light of fire
Here I stand, barefoot with my arms open wide as if to say COME AT ME WORLD, THIS TIME I'M READY FOR YOU!
The wind blows my hair back and dust devils swirl up around me
I will wait for the rain and even when it pours will my heart smile
Let the monsoon storms come down and wash away the remnants of the monster I have become
I will run towards the rainbows and never will I stop
It's summer.

Thank you
To the little girl who kept saying "you can do it" when They didn't think she could do it
To the little girl who believed that thunderstorms meant God was crying but danced in His tears anyways
Thank you to the little girl who woke up one morning and decided she wasn't going to let the world pass her by
To the little girl who followed her older sisters around
You are not a pest.
Thank you for your spirited ways and quiet nature
You know so much more than you let yourself believe.
To the 10 year old girl who looked in the mirror and didn't think anything of her straight black hair, almond shaped eyes, and red puffy lips,
You are beautiful
To the 12 year old girl who thought being smart was bad
Being shallow hurt you so much more
To the 14 year old girl who was afraid of losing her friends
Never apologize for being you.
They left you, it's their loss
Don't find comfort in loneliness it won't work
You need people, stop saying you don't.
Go out and find someone who will bring out the best in you or better yet, find someone who will let you be
You.
Today I say to the girl I was a year ago
I read your journal entries
You're still alive
Thank you.

I've spent many nights Awake when I should be Sleeping
Thinking about You
What happened?

I was looking at Old Photographs the other day
A smile trickled across my face but I wiped it off before the Feelings hit
The smiles on the faces of the people in those pictures
Were they Real?

I'm listening to the same song over and over and over again because I think it will make the pain less painful
But it doesn't

You didn't have to change and yet Change
was Inevitable
Why?

The little girl in the pictures somehow knew who she was
But I know it was a lie
I saw it
the Corruption in her eyes
She didn't know it

I don't remember the day I picked up a pencil and wrote my first poem
I don't remember why I even wanted to write in the first place
But I remember the day I stopped
It was in the third grade
I'd talked about wanting to become a poet the way some kids talked about becoming firefighters or dancers
"You won't make a lot of money"
"Poetry is for old ladies to read when they're sad"
"Poetry is boring"
9 year old me was so naive
I believed them
I was different enough already why attract more negative attention to myself?
So I stopped writing
I didn't pick up a pencil with the intention of writing a poem until about two and a half years later, when we had a unit in language arts on Poetry
We were learning sentence structure
"Welcome to the poetry unit
You're going to write some of your own whilst we discover some of the greats"
At first, they were short haikus and rhyming poems about bunnies
6th grade was when I realised reading poetry was almost as good as writing it
7th grade was when I realised how much I loved it
I realised I could be anyone I wanted in my poems
My poems could be as dark or as light as I wanted them to be
I could pour out my soul onto the pages and the paper wouldn't judge me
8th grade I was scribbling stanzas in the margins of my notebooks
9th grade I found out my poem was being published in a book of student poetry
I've spent summers writing, making up for lost time, writing poetry as I breathe oxygen
I know who I am through poetry
Looking back, I know why she stopped
She thought she was saving herself the humiliation
Looking back, she was pretty wise for a girl her age
I remember the day when my 8th grade teacher told me I was talented
I remember the day she told me to enter that poetry contest
I didn't win
But
I haven't stopped writing
That's a win for me.

It was never easy, for me to say the three words that flew out of your mouth more times a day than I'd ever in my lifetime
I'm not the romantic type
I'm awkward and shy and not one to talk much but you were always there for me when I needed you
I never thought I was worthy of anyone's love, much less yours
I wanted so badly to push you away once we got close but you
You showed me how to trust again
How to love again without getting hurt
I had a fear of heights
I didn't want to fall after you'd pushed me up so far into the sky
I liked the view from where we were
You made everything look so small and my fears
subsided
I still can't say the three words so instead I'll say
Olive You
And I'll hope you understand what I'm trying to get across

I've been told I'm a great writer
That I am talented
I've been told "never stop writing" and "Don't forget about me when you're famous"
I laughed at that last part
Me? Famous? I'll be lucky if anyone reads this.
I'm not ungrateful for the kind words
I just have a hard time believing them
I know the words I've written have been seen, read, cried over, even
I know how much power words have
I just have a hard time believing myself
A poem is never finished, even long after the poet has set down his pen
I believe that
I believe the voices in my head that tell me to go back and edit that one part in that one poem that I wrote ages ago
I guess I don't believe in leaving the past alone
I know that you'll forget about this poem within a matter of hours,
Days if it is good
I know that poetry brings feelings into your heart that will inevitably leave
Feelings that are, well
Temporary
I'm hesitant to believe certain things
But when I believe in something
I don't forget it
It's taken me quite some time
But I believe I am a poet
And to acknowledge my existence as a poet
Might have been the best feeling in the world
It wasn't temporary, either.

Last night I fell asleep to the sound of rain beating against my windowpanes
I felt safe in the storm's embrace
I knew I would be okay

I wonder if the Greats
Ever knew each other in their time
I know the Painters knew one another
I imagine the conversations they had
What gossip crept through the grapevine?
"Did you know that Van Gogh fellow cut off his ear for his mistress?"
"What a treacherous man"
"Poor soul"
"And that Monet's pictures always look so fuzzy"
"What an odd concept, indeed."
Would Dickinson and Poe be acquaintances or great friends?
Or Mr. Robert Frost and the great John Keats
Would e.e cummings be the laughing stock of the crowd or the hipster everyone else secretly admires?
Painters and Poets, creators alike
Would the two groups clash or join in joyful merrymaking?
Creators not destroyers
Artists and Masters of their work
Both disturbed
And slightly insane
I think
They would have gotten along great.

Airports
I never liked them
I never liked taking my shoes off to go through security
I never liked the crowded and sometimes cold atmosphere
I felt like a toy in a factory getting ready to get boxed and shipped out
Airports
But maybe I should
Like them
I'm sitting here in this terminal watching people rush past with their briefcases and screaming children
Where are you going?
Can I come too?
Where are you rushing off to and
Must you always rush?
Someone once said to try to find the quiet in an airport
I will try to find the quiet in an airport
Maybe I'll find it, maybe I won't
But quiet in an airport
What a concept
Airports
I'll find the quiet
Airports
Maybe I will like them

"The world? So confusing"
"Complicated."
"Messed up"
"Deceiving"
"Ever-changing"
"Not enough"
"Ridiculous"
"Black and white"
"Boring"
"Ugly"
"Mysterious"
"Disappointing"
"A page of out of a book of lies"
"I think the world is beautiful"

16
What's so great about growing up?
I want to live in Neverland forever
Forget about the stresses of every day life and college talk just stop
I'm counting down the hours til midnight and
The last hours I have of 15
Was it a good year?
Will 16 going on 17 Z be proud of this Z?
Memories flash and fade
15
Freshman in high school
I know who I am
Writing poetry day in and day out and
Finding solace in a community called Nerdfighteria
15
No friends in real life
But that's fine
Figuring out it is okay to be a listener in public instead of the talker
15
Reading books, breathing words
Content with life
and filling journals, too many to count
15
The fireworks boom
Smoke fills the air
Smiles on every face, lit up by the moon and colours radiating from the night sky
15
A blanket is wrapped around my shoulders
I'm trying to stay awake for the last minutes of
15
but my eyelids are heavy
Time glides swifter than the boats on Lake Washington
Cheers go up
16 will be great

She was the most beautiful angel
But not in the way that most think of angels
She was a fallen angel
Who kept on getting back up
Because she knew she belonged in the wide open skies
Soaring above the mountains, as well as deep between the trees
Sometimes she flew too low
Testing her strength, how close could she get to the ground without actually
falling?
She wanted to be human
She wanted to walk on solid ground
She wanted to know what it was like to live
freely
without strings tugging and choking her every time she made a faulty move
She wanted to know true suffering
But not for the reasons most want to know suffering
She wanted to face Death
So she’d have something to talk about with her friends
She wanted to know Pain
So she could tell her children about her Fight
She wanted to know Suffering
So she could learn about the Earth
She was a fallen angel
Who's hair glistened with every grey strand that sprouted from her head as wrinkles became carved into her blush-pink face
She was a fallen angel
Who fell asleep
on the Ground
Right where she belonged

anything is
anything can
be
a poem
if you
will it
there are
no rules
in poetry
at least
not in
my
poetry

love is a beast
who has been swallowing us whole
biting down on the most fragile parts of our hearts
tonight i’m sad
saddened by the fact that
she can’t go on anymore because her heart is tied down to the train tracks waiting for her lover
to obliterate everything she ever had
love is a beast

depression is a monster
like the chameleon in Monsters Inc?
you think it’s gone when really it just went into hiding for a while
and sometimes
you just can’t fight anymore
your bones are weak so you let him have you
depression is a monster

anxiety is quicksand
and i’m tired of trying to stand upright in it
you get ****** in faster trying to get out
Hopeless
we’re all hopeless
anxiety is quicksand
depression is a monster
and love is a beast i can’t seem to tame

tonight
the world is a place i’m not sure i want to live in anymore
so i’ll make my own and
live there forever
don’t worry, though
i’ll be okay
they know me here
i’ll be okay

voices echo
laughter booms
on the screen
pictures flicker
everyone's smiling
we're all anxious
and excited
it still doesn't
seem real

My soul is weary yet I still march on
I'm the tearstained pages of my favorite book
I'm the gentle whispers in the morning that remind you
Today you are alive
I'm the calluses on the bottoms of my feet from running on hot pavement and gravel in the summer
I'm the pen that wrote the words that make my heart ache
I'm not done here
The calluses on my feet weren't always there
It used to burn when I walked outside
But nothing felt so good as the mix of sand and concrete beneath my feet so I ran and became stronger
Immune to the heat
I'm battered and worn but the best books are
I will march on
And I will become
Everything I haven't yet

Let's take a walk down memory lane
It won't be scary but perhaps a little sad
So I'll hold your hand til the end
Keep your eyes wide open
See, look there
Their faces are bright with laughter from night they vowed to see the sunrise
Their happiness is contagious
Can you catch it?
Their laughter lights me up
Can you hear the good times?
They're living the life
Now walk a little this way
Please
Let me cover your eyes
I'm hoping you don't remember
the night we cried as one
No don't look there
stop tracing my scars
You remember when I told you
Now I'm begging you to forget
Let's go a little farther, over here where the smiles beam
Remember just three nights ago when we promised it would always be just you and me?
You held me close and showed me Love
I love Love
I held it in my hands and it felt like a butterfly preparing for flight
I let it flutter away knowing it might not come back
Come here, now
We've reached our destination
Open your hand
I have something to give you
Be careful,
It's delicate
Watch it closely
For you never know when it might fly away

I'm happy for you, okay?
But don't expect me to keep acting like my old self when you haven't been acting like your old self
You keep talking to me because you know I won't ever stop supporting you
Friends are friends and I'll be there til the end
But my patience is wearing thin and one day I won't be here anymore
You keep talking to me as if you didn't freeze me out for the last 8 months
When someone hurts me, I don't talk to them
That girl you "dated"?
She hurt me
Betrayed me and stabbed me in the back with that fake smile of hers and know-it-all aura.
You let her manipulate your mind and honestly, I thought you were better than that
I must've been pretty foolish to think a thought that was so far from the truth
You're still just a boy and I could tell
You had some figuring out to do
Our conversations became short and curt
I used to be able to tell you anything
Now you're back but you're definitely not the same Max I knew
I know, I know it's so cliche to say
I notice things
I don't let people mess with my mind and get away with it
So for you to waltz back in with your dyed hair and nose turned up in the air
Is not fair
I see past your "oh so f-ing tough" exterior
You tell me how bad it is like I don't already know
You "live life on the edge" and I'll give you that
But you do NOT tell me I don't know how hard it is
You're the little brother I never had and I hate watching what's become of you
I'm watching a train wreck
And the Train is our friendship
I wonder if you remember how close we used to be
The pictures you sent me of your little sister
The poems I sent you that you pretended to read
I wonder if you remember Skyping with me just so you could show me the snow in New York when it was 80 degrees in AZ
I wonder if you remember...
We all grow up at some point in our lives
Some, sooner than others
You can't hold a conversation for longer than five minutes
So why should I?
Because friends are friends until the end of time
And I used to think that was true
But the clock stopped ticking and
Our time is up
And even though I'd love so much just to be able to scrape the imprint you left on my heart right off
I know
You were more than a few sentences in my book that I won't ever be able to erase
Even though I was just a word in yours

here’s a quick note
to tell you i love you
i know you hurt us
but i forgive you
here’s a quick note
to tell you i’m sorry
i’m sorry that you left us
but i hope you got where you wanted to go
i remember the night you called and said
you weren’t coming back home
home
we all have different definitions of home and i guess
ours weren’t nearly as close as i thought
i hope you found the home you were looking for
here’s a quick note
to tell you my heart has healed and i’m ready to start over
i never stopped loving you
i don’t think i ever stopped loving you
here’s a quick note
to tell you i’m here now
i’m older and wiser and i understand
i know what happened
i know what happened
here’s a quick note
to tell you i missed you

Dear Z
Oh Z, oh sweet Z
I’m supposed to be giving you advice, tell you what not to do, et cetera, et cetera
But I know the words written here
Won’t matter to you
Z, you were always such a strong minded girl
Do it your own way, don’t let anyone tell you what to do, keep pushing the boundaries if you can
You were never angry when you got grounded
Instead, a small part of you felt satisfied
Maybe it was the devil speaking, but you actually laughed when you got in trouble
I know, this is only one side of you, but I hope you gave the other sides a chance
I know how hard it is to let go of that stubborn, don’t give a **** about what people say attitude
Facade
Remember the girl you said you wanted to be?
The one who you were working on getting closer to?
She lit up rooms with the way she talked about poetry
She was so full of life
Z, be that girl, okay?
Let people get close to you, please don’t keep pushing them away
You know you need them and they’re always going to be there for you
I know it’s hard, so hard to ask for help
You’ll want to do it on your own
But Z, you know where that got you last time
So many “last times”
“next times”
How about Now?
Z,
Do you remember the nights when you got in your own head, trying to convince yourself you weren’t worth it?
Do you remember feeling so numb afterwards from reading the journal entries you wrote while sitting at the bottom of your man-made ocean of tears?
I want you to know that you’ve always been beautiful, but you’re the only one that has yet to realise that
I want you to know that you’ve got so much potential left in you
You’re always telling others
“Your fire’s only begun to burn brighter”
Z, YOUR fire’s only begun to burn brighter
Don’t stop, I hope you never stop trying to make peoples’ days better
I also hope you realise
How important you are
Dear Z
I want you to remember
Your past may have made you who you are today
I want you to remember
Your future is going to be great
Dear Z
I love who you are
Who you were
And who you have yet to be

Fruit pizza
I’m eight years old
Running around the house with a cape tied around my neck
Ingredients:
Sugar cookie dough
Strawberry cream cheese frosting
Sliced fruit of choice
My teddy bear’s name is Kate, after baby Kate from Arthur
We had to stop watching that show because my sister started acting like D.W
I told Kate everything because she was the best at keeping secrets
I didn’t realise she couldn’t talk back to me
Preheat oven to 350
Eat cookie dough because no matter what mom says, it’s not really going to **** you
Spread cookie dough evenly on a pizza pan
As the youngest of seven loud siblings of various ages, I had to learn at a young age how to be heard
I can yell with the best of them, but you would never know given my quiet tendencies today
I still haven’t completely grown up yet
In my mind, I’m still that little girl who read picture books and made up games like hurricane and the tripping machine
Let cookie cool
Wash fruit and slice it neatly
In my mind, I am still the little girl who did things because she wanted to and therefore got put in time out a lot
Spread strawberry cream cheese frosting on cookie
In my mind, I am still protected by the shelter of my parents
In my mind, Kate can still talk
Place fruit in a circular pattern on the frosted cookie
Cut into even pieces
I’m eight years old
Fruit pizza.

She's tired of living day after day in a skin that isn't hers
She feigns a smile for a little while but her eyes, they start to burn
Maybe she’ll stop trying, maybe she’ll stop crying
When will she stop lying?

She turns to the only thing that she knows will save her night
She checks into the Music Hotel, breathing in the neon lights
The bellman greets her and grabs her bags, says what’s the deal tonight?
Her eyebrows furrow as she whispers
-The days haven’t been so bright-

She goes into a room and injects notes into her arm
Music starts dancing through her veins
She closes her eyes and surrenders
-Mr. DJ I’m lost
Please play my favourite song-

He rocks her boat and sends her tumbling
Down down down down down
-Mr. DJ please don’t hurt me
I’m trying not to drown-

She’s falling asleep to Mr. DJ’s secrets
She finally feels free
Nothing hurts her anymore
-Music did this to me-

The sunrise scorches the tired earth
She wipes the sleep from her eyes
It’s time to check out of the Music Hotel
Mr. DJ, say your goodbyes

She’s weary but she’s stronger
She now knows where to go
The Music Hotel will welcome her
Any time she needs a home