i don't believe you know you're destined for great things
you
mishappen collection of supposedly broken parts
souls of shards and borrowed hearts
you
do not fly away so easily

junk angel
don't you know
you are not damaged nor irreparably dismantled
underneath your suit of armour
there you are
beautiful and breathing
you are alive

junk angel
remember your origins
and look at how far you've come
-
-z.z

here’s a lie to keep you living
a veil of truth to shade your eyes
what searing pains your body has endured
are illusions from your mind

it’s nothing big, it’ll be alright
you shout above the cacophony upstairs
my monsters have just come out to play
they do that, you know, in my nightmares

we dance an endless waltz with darkness
and convince ourselves we’re fine
so what if we haven’t seen the sun in months
we’re alive, we swear, we’re not dying

but what happens when we stop showing up?
are we still here, or no?
does anybody miss us
or stop to ask “where did they go?”

will they notice the lack of color
will they miss our favorite songs?
will they wonder how we lived
with all of this darkness for so long?

nah, they won’t notice
it’s all an illusion anyway
at least that’s what the doctor said
that, and $150 for your stay

-rgp

suppose I wasn't destined for joy
that the complex systematic masses and impurities within me prefer darkness to thrive better in
because what if they knew all along
how much one can hide where the rest of the world isn't looking
they wouldn't know if I never smiled a day in my life
they wouldn't know if I did

suppose the off white of my skin means I'll live longer and isn't a result of the fact that I rarely see the sun
suppose I tossed the fake sun supplements into the garbage for some odd soul to seek sanity in
consider it a gift, these worthless pills I never needed in the first place

suppose I loved this life
and hated it at the same time

suppose I believed them when they told me it wouldn't be temporary
and I made myself a home in the nullity

suppose I felt something

.

i wish i knew how to turn this rage into passion
maybe then i'd stop being so destructive
i'm a ticking time bomb and a ******* ant
i'm the toddler crying for no reason i don't know what i want
do you realise how long it's taken me to look like i have my life in order i don't i never have
i'm one drop away from a hurricane destructive enough to shake up Red Cross
i'm dancing on the edge of a cliff
i'm speeding down a mountain road no barriers between me and an abyss of rocks and cacti
basically
the thing is though, i don't know how
i won't know how
i'm not 17
i'm simultaneously the
annoying three year old who can't stop asking why
and the 20something wondering if it was really worth it
one of these days i'll know the answers to the questions
i'm looking forward to that day
i hope it arrives before i have the chance to leave
-z.z

to the ocean during low tide
so i can race with Mother Nature
gritty, soft, exfoliating sand beneath my calloused feet
i'm going to win this one
mother's sea spray has nothing on me
i'm going to dance out here for a while
my feet know the way back
i feel at home
in the water
-z.z

When you first found me
I was floundering
about to dive into the deepest waters I’d ever seen
I can’t swim very well
you threw me a life preserver, breathed purpose into my ashen lungs
I stumbled and fell you picked me back up
for a while, I was okay
I learned how to swim and I’ll even go as far to say I liked being in the water
but then the storms came and my arms were still too weak
I’m sinking
when people hurt me
I lash out
you do not get to treat me that way
an eye for an eye is what my brother used to say
I’m proud and loyal
you crossed me
I know life was never ******* fair
which is why I’m leaving
you do not get to hurt me anymore
I’ve been poisoned by your words they still sting
you started painting over your picture
little by little you became
just another unrecognizable face
thank you for the life lessons
I know who I am and who not to become
my head held high
trying not to cry
this is my goodbye

-z.z

i wanted to write a poem that would make me feel something
alleviate this pressure like a tourniquet,
Words, be bandages to my ****** wounds!
i pounded out poem after poem spilling heartache on the pages
i wanted to write something that would silence the monsters laughing at me inside my head
frida kahlo is known for saying
i don't paint dreams or nightmares
i paint my own reality
i write my dreams and nightmares

into my own reality
i write my monsters to sleep with sweet lullabies
i write my life into my feelings
and my feelings into my life
i wanted to create something that would stand on it's head
to make people awe and wonder
how is that girl surviving
with all those monsters hanging onto her?
i write to give my friends a voice
and find mine in the process
-z.z

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.

At noon he sipped his water
filled with content and not much else
work does that to you, you know?
he watched the clock tick tick tick the seconds away
and distractedness turned into dread

I am my parents’ worst nightmare and a blessing in disguise. My father says I am exercise for his mind. I love verbal defense. I love creating backstories and plucking reasoning out of thin air like a magician who pulls rabbits out of his hat. Verbal defense is an art, you see. It consists of passionate testimonials, backed by evidence, and so many ******* loopholes. I have mastered this art down to a T.

I ask that you imagine me complexly. I hate that you think you know me based off of a few things you’ve seen. No two people ever view the same thing. I believe you don’t know me. You can pinpoint a couple of my likes, my dislikes, but you don’t know the songs I sing when I’m alone. They’re not all sad, you know. But sometimes they are. You don’t know why or what or how. You don’t know that my favorite things are too far away from my grasp and they’re always so ******* hard to find yet I keep looking.

Imagine me complexly and maybe you’ll see something new. I know what it’s like to look at the world through scratched lenses. I know that after a while, you get a headache from trying to overcorrect what you’re seeing. So take the ******* scratched rose tinted glasses off. **** will be blurry but at least it’ll be as raw as you can stand, take a look, see here this is my being.

People used to tell me I should be a lawyer but that would take the joy out of arguing. Me? I want to fix broken things. I’m attracted to brokenness like a moth is to the buzz of a dying fluorescent streetlight. Isn’t that funny? I find it hilarious, that I think I can fix, heal and soothe the wounds of a broken world. I must be truly crazy if I think I can patch up some of the world’s lacerations. Maybe one day, when you imagine me complexly, we can talk about it. I’ll try my damnedest to not to try and fix you, because I’d be a flaming liar if I didn’t think you weren’t broken. So imagine me complexly. I'll wait, don't worry. Take all the time you need. Imagine me complexly.

Imagine me complexly.

-z.z

some nights
i feel like a lost cause
your grandma would tell me to pray to st. jude
i don't think even st. jude would be able to find the missing parts of me

lately i've been thinking a lot about change
i wonder if it's because of change that i can't seem to find myself
because of the disorienting earthquake that followed the hurricane Change brought on
that flung pieces of me far and wide
i have to go searching again, don't i?

i feel like i should be telling you something important
shed some light on how to overcome darkness
but to be honest, kiddo
i still have no idea
and if i dedicate my life to apologising for the fact,
my sorry's will bury me

there's a saying,
the calm before the storm
there's a feeling,
complete peace with a hint of blindness to the tsunamic waves approaching just beyond the horizon
you feel euphoric and skeptical and helpless
a smile creeps across your face
you brace yourself for impact but know that no matter how many times you've prepared yourself for this, no matter how many times
you've lived through this
you will fall, flail, and drown

that is what i feel when i sense Change lurking near
and i can't do anything to stop it
i'm tired, kiddo
i've forgotten parts of me
so bear with me as i continue to love you to the best of my ability despite all this
don't forget yourself
love,
auntie

he drank his morning coffee with a drop of the sunrise mixed in
always one drop, never one more nor one less
just enough to hear the steam whisper
good morning

At noon he sipped his water
filled with remorse and not much else
work does that to you, you know?
he watched the clock tick tick tick the seconds away
and distractedness turned into dread

In the evenings, he drank shots of heartache mixed with every drop of the starlit sky he could get
Thirsty for more always wanting more
no amount of liquid hope could quench his thirst
He held his glass up to the heavens begging for slivers of the moon to trickle down into his soul
though the sky had nothing left to offer him

the next morning he mixed in an extra drop of the sunrise to ease the hangover
he had drinking problems
always drunk
rarely sober

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

vagrant lives she leads with fear
uncertainty tugs at her feet
at least, that’s what she thinks
the road calls her home
begs her to kick off her boots
and caress its trails with bare soles and a bare soul
the skies notes she hasn’t been around for months
that the sun missed her morning kisses
and the stars missed her guidance
and the moon missed her dancing
these days she’s as lost as the lives she’s supposedly guiding
trying to get them both up to a safe place again
so their souls can sing the songs their bodies once knew by memory
so her heart can start beating again

-rgp

i think you hurt me
and i think,
at the time at least
i liked it.

i liked that someone listened to me
that should’ve been the first red flag
no one listens to me
i mean no one like you listens to me.

and i didn’t think it odd or inappropriate
i’m gay,
i told you
i didn’t think you were a threat
and that should’ve been the second.

i didn’t think it was weird
when you asked me for selfies
because people swap selfies, right?
i’ve sent some pretty hideous double chinned bedhead dead eyed selfies to my girlfriend
how is it any different if it’s to a guy friend?

except it was different
you asked to see my thigh gap
my feet
my lordotic back because you wanted to see how my muscular dystrophy affected me
physically.
that should’ve been the third.

you called me pet names.
you told me you loved me.
you said you would always be there for me when no one else was.
fourth. fifth. sixth.

at first i thought it endearing and a platonic kind of love.
but you don’t say those things to a girl you met on the internet
i don’t.

i struggle saying those three words.
they weigh me down and make me choke on air when i try to say them out loud
so when you insisted i say them back, that you wouldn’t stop bugging me until i did,
i panicked
typed them, hit “send”
and cried later
and you told me it’s no big deal, everyone says “i love you”
not me. never me.
seventh flag.

you told me you’d visit
you told me we were meant to be
like a ****** up romeo and juliet
you spent your nights talking me down off of suicidal ledges
you thought you saved me
you kept telling me to just ******* eat, that starving myself was stupid, that you couldn’t have me die on you, that you were supposed to die first
“death is not a race,” i said
“you’ll win anyway if i don’t save you,” you replied
eighth flag.
i didn’t like it anymore.

i think you hurt me.
i can’t be too sure since you’ve convinced me you were just being friendly but i’m starting to come out of this fog you’ve put me in
and i do believe
you’ve hurt me.

-rgp

if i write you a poem
i write validity across walls that do not warrant it
writing this poem, this confession of consciousness regarding a matter that makes my bones ache
is like sending you the letter you weren't supposed to have received
my dear i am sorry
that my heart is so prone to being broken that i know by now how to make art with its pieces while being blinded by my own waterworks
i am writing this poem
and you will be on the receiving end of it, oblivious to everything that is bad in this world prior to reading this maybe
i know i haven't lost you yet but i know i will eventually
and when i do
you will not hear my cries nor will you see the glistening droplets slide from my eyes like you did the one time i let you in
my dear i've always worked to shield you from the malice this world is capable of
loss is not malicious
yet it is and i hope you never have to live through losing someone who loved so much it hurt
i know i'm rambling now my dear
i'm sorry we ran out of time
you are so special
i know you're not gone yet
but soon
you will be
so this poem is a testament to you
i love you so ******* much
i'm not sorry for that how could i be sorry for loving you
my dear
i'll see you soon or
something

Euthymic. Happy in a depressive state.
Crash. I was too close to the edge.
Fall. It's such a long way down to the bottom
Fell. Less than 8 hours ago I was
Euthymic. It never lasts long, does it?

-z.z

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

some nights, i dream in technicolor
holographic three dimensional, i'm looking through shards of a broken mirror
my dreams are hallucinogenic memory strips of my day, played over and over
some nights, i dream in wet paint on a black canvas
on these nights, fear shakes me
my heartbeat pounds and i lay paralysed
everything is so blurry
other nights, i don't dream
those nights, my mind is endlessly the grey textured walls in my bedroom
they've seen my past but say nothing
because some nights, there's not much to say.
-
-z.z

i'm afraid of love
as any kid would be
love is built on trust and promises
i can't say i love you
even to the empty walls of my room
words are arrows
and i'm not ready for mine to
penetrate the heart of
someone who will fall from it
my love can not be blown away by the wind
nor will it sink like an unmovable boulder that lands in the water with a Shamu sized splash
my love is delicate
something to hold in the palm of your hand
don't crush it
when i find you
convincing me to love you
will be more than just a game
show me i can trust you
show me unbreakable promises
and maybe i will show you
what my love looks like

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

Time slows down as you grow older
yet for whatever reason, I don’t remember waking up this morning
Age is a number determined by how many rotations around the sun you’ve made it and a year
is a ******* long time
yet by the time I’ve blown out my candles and finished last year’s cake,
I find myself in front of another, being serenaded by family, encouraged to make a wish
my days consist of waking up, going to class, coming home, doing schoolwork, eating, and then going back to sleep
I’m stuck in this routine to further my life whilst stopping it to some extent
I’m walking in place, the same scenery passing me by
until suddenly, I’m at my destination
I’ll look up, look behind, and marvel at how I seemed to get to where I was when it seemed only moments ago I was miles away
Headlines flood the news, one after the other, describing some world tragedy, some natural disaster, some marker that humanity is here
and then time will pass, the headlines will float to the bottom of the pool with hundreds of thousands of other headlines as if nothing had ever happened
days later, new headlines will wash up in their places
but they’ll be the same headlines, on the same televisions, being reflected back on the same screens to the same aging faces
after a while, they stop mattering
it becomes news again to the young but the same old to the elderly
after a while,
Time becomes your greatest nemesis
joints ache, hair turns to grey
complacency settles in like dust
all gradually, day after day after ******* day after day after day
almost coming to a complete stop
so you don’t realise it’s happening until you wake up
and you’ve been here a hundred rotations around the sun
and you wonder when the hell did Time **** me
-z.z

i'm caught in between
like a hamster running on a squeaky wheel
i'm not sure where i'm going
or if i'm even going anywhere
i want to go somewhere
but i don't know why
but i don't know where
but i don't know how to get off of this
****** wheel
i'm swallowing my excuses and they're making me choke
i'm in between layers and shades of colour too dark to be called
colour
i'm in between wanting and needing
speaking and whispering
living and dying
running and standing
breathing and
-
-z.z

hello, you
please stop
i can't
anymore
why aren't
you leaving
yet?
i don't
understand
i keep
pushing, pushing
you're a
boomerang

there are many metaphors and lines of figurative language
to describe hopelessness
defeat
someone else won
i'm a fan of these metaphors and lines of figurative language
when i'm being weighed down being ground into the earth by this emotional *******
i need to hold onto something
so
i hold onto the lines that someone else spoke
the lines that someone else cried out in a moment of agony
i hold onto those lines that let me know
i'm not alone
i'm over the
i'm in darkness
line
i've come up with my own response, so cleverly structured in thought
and maybe one day
someone might hang onto my lines
like i've grasped others
i'm over the darkness and it's because
i've been stuck here for so long that i've learned how to see
because while darkness seems like the inevitable black hole that the universe will one day be ****** up into
the darkness
is really just shades of demonic monsters
and all you gotta do to survive
is figure out which shades are the lightest

Goodbyes
The words never come easy
Goodbyes
Signal the end of the best time I've had in ages
I don't want to say goodbye
I'm scared that if I say it
One of us will leave and the memories will fade
Maybe you have to say goodbye to say hello again
But I don't want anymore goodbyes because I liked my first hello
Adios
Farewell
So final
I don't like the idea that we'll be apart
I don't like the idea of life going on as soon as I leave
Going back to old habits and falling into the same monotone routines
Goodbyes
The colour drains from my tear-stained face
One last hug
I want to hold on forever
I won't say goodbye
Because I know this isn't the end so
Instead I'll say
See you soon
I'll let go when you do
See you soon.

don't tell her she'll be okay.

And on the night her life changed before her eyes
She wept
Cheers broke out around her, congratulations and kudos were given
And she
Put up her forcefields and closed her doors once again
To mourn

In the trembling ground she planted a seed
And watered it with a concoction of part--saline-part-hopes-and-dreams drawn from the wells of her eyes
They never quite understood why her knee **** reaction was sadness
Nor did they know of the depths her heart could sink to
They didn't understand that she was different than the rest of them in that to her, happiness was a forced facade of what lie beyond cracked smiles

She mourned her relationships and any attempts to mend broken ones
She wept for the lives she'd never know
She mourned for her mother
She wept for the young woman who gave her up
She mourned the loss of her mountains
And her clear open skies
She wept so that she could no longer tell
Where the monsoon rains started
And where her tears ended

She felt her soul breaking
And she laughed
Isn't it funny
I find it hilarious
How I've shattered myself so frequently
That the shrapnel no longer hurts

-z.z

Writing about my Mother and Father never seemed like it would be an easy feat
But so far this summer has been all about
Self Discovery and I guess
it would be wise to know your roots before you explore the Tree

I don't know much about my roots except that
They're Korean
My Father was 10 years older than my Mother
I was not their first child

I call them Mother and Father because those words are cold, bitter, distant, cordial
"Mom" feels warm, like fresh baked chocolate chip cookies (Grandma's famous recipe, of course)
"Dad" tastes like the sly, goofy smile as he says "So what did I buy you today?"

I've always dreamed of the day when I stand opposite my Mother
I even scripted out the words I'd say to her
First, Anger
Then, Confusion
Why, Mother?
Why?
Lastly,
Forgiveness
Because even though she "abandoned" me,
She did give me life.

My Father, well
I never really thought about him
This Father's Day, though?
I did.

I have nothing to say about him, except that I imagined he was, perhaps, a businessman.
I wonder if he loved my Mother

Why are you writing about these two people you've only ever met once in your life?
Even that statement smells of uncertainty.
Why would you waste your tears on these ugly human beings?
Accept the fact that you'll never know.

No.

I refuse to accept the truth.
Let me be hurt by their doings but
I know I was not a mistake

Love is jumping into the void knowing no one will be there to catch you and taking that risk anyways
I needed answers and maybe one day I'll get them but for now I am content with what I have.

I have Love, as twisted as it seems,
I will always have Love because Love
is what they gave me

Can you stop this heart from bleeding
Staunch the flow of my being
My tourniquets are fire engine red
Turning to shades darker than crimson—she’s dead

i promise to always be true to myself
and when i don't know who "myself" is
i'll find her before i act
as someone who isn't "herself"
because actions speak louder than my words ever will
i remember when i acted like i knew what was up
when i changed my clothes and my hair for someone
who wasn't worth changing for
i remember how lost i felt
finding myself took longer that time
still i find traces of the wannabe never-gonna-be girl that i tried to be
in my closet
in my mind
i will never completely rid myself of her
maybe she's become part of me
slipped into my body when i wasn't paying attention
maybe i liked it
i promise to know what i like
before i let it mutate
into something i genuinely hate
i promise to know who i am
before i try to get to know others
how can they know me
if i don't know me?

she’s memorized numbers and held onto them like they are her lifeline
like the time she memorized the poem by edna st Vincent millay because it was the first piece of emotion that made her feel
but when she picks up the phone to press the keys with trembling fingers
the voices tell her
“no one wants to hear you complain about your oh-so-horrible life”
so she sets the phone down
and takes a shaky breath in
and a shaky breath out
oh its fine, I’m okay
that’s what she tells herself
when she’s too tired to fill up empty spaces with justifications and excuses and
the truth

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

Free the man who lived a life behind bars of silence
Words will be his key to salvation and a life of peace
Let him know he carries a heavy burden when they are by his side
For words are arrows,
Sharpened by cruelty and a rotting mind
Dulled by misuse
Can you really hide?
Words can crumble
To reveal the face behind
The lips that spoke the verses of lies
The mouth that roared when it could no longer cry
What about the hands that trembled through all
Anger, sorrow, new life, not loss
The teeth that sparkled in malicious grins
Slowly slid behind ashen cracked curtains

My name is something I keep around like old trophies from youth competitions or scrapbooks of memories from a better time. It is a reminder and a bittersweet one of that of a thing I cannot change. I never liked my names. I wondered why my parents decided to drop the second half of my Korean name for the sake of 100% inclusion. Is nothing sacred? I wonder if they knew that by doing that, they stripped me of my origins. I despise my name. I despise the projection and enforcement of family it relays. How far are you willing to go to make sure the kid knows they are yours? Hell, make it into a ******* name that will follow them around for the entirety of their life. The fact that it’s so beautiful will offset the pain of hearing it butchered so many times, will offset the pain of hearing what isn’t mine, will offset the nullity I have come to feel every time I hear it. My name is a prison number of conformity.

i'm slipping in and out of consciousness
every breath gets harder and you are
sitting on the edge of my bed
watching me with tired eyes
in between my fluttering
heartbeats i see you
too i'm so
sorry
-z.z

i thought that if i left it
in the yesteryear
i might finally get to sleep

you can’t leave a heavy it
on the stoop of a goodbye
and expect the door to contain its grisliness

like a puppy
it chased me
and clung to my leg
like a three year old

but those things are light
and my it dragged me down like quicksand
like a lover
begging me to come back to bed

just ten more minutes
of mind numbing pain
masked in silent nights
and silent cries

i’m such a fool

to think i could leave my it
when i hadn’t said goodbye.

-z.z

The last song I listened to
Told me to keep marching on, we've all got battle scars
The last song I listened to
Told me to just remember who you are
The last song I listened to
Told me it's never too late to clear your canvas
The last song I listened to
Let me free myself as I let the words sink into my skin
The volume climbed higher and I gave myself to the ocean of notes
Crashing against the rocks as my delicate glass soul splintered into a million pieces
The last song I listened to
Didn't know how much I needed to hear it

like a phoenix
i'll rise from the ashes of
the girl i once was
i've lived
a thousand lives
and i'll live
a thousand more

i was planted in rocky soil
and raised by lies
i found a saviour in alternative music
and a god i could relate to in poetry

i don’t remember when
the world spun upside down
but i’ve been walking backwards on the celling ever since

the sun doesn’t rise here
it only sets
and when the stars come out to play
i like that i’m staring into the eyes of death

i guess my head was never ******* on right
maybe that’s the point
i hardly ever know what i’m doing
but **** that

-rgp

don't fall in love
you'll taste the bitterness first
rise in love
and know no limits
falling in love
might hurt less
but rising in love
has the better view

I don’t know who I am, to be honest. I’ve always thought I was a shell housing a…something

I used to think I was invincible. One day, I cut through my skin to see if I would bleed. I was still convinced that I was invincible. Another day, I lit a candle and wove my hands in and out to see if I would burn. I was still convinced that I was invincible. Another day, I approached my sister asking her what happens to us when we die. I don’t remember her answer but I know that was the day I stopped believing in invincibility. I bled harder than I ever will. My skin still remembers the sizzle of the bite.

I remember peering through a mirror. For once, I wasn’t scrutinizing my face, nor was I fascinated by the specks on the ceiling. I saw a girl, about five foot high, dark hair and a face. What was up with that face? Those eyes….see things? Those hands…don’t make things. Those hands crush things. Those hands wipe away droplets of the rain from the face with the eyes that see things. Those hands…aren’t for holding. Those wrists are too thin. Too veiny. Too green. Those arms double as chopping boards. Her shoulders turn in too much but her posture? She could have been a dancer. She should have been a dancer. The girl staring me down. Wasn’t me.

I remember thinking I knew who I was. I thought I was slightly insane. I thought I had been bruised too many times by the dull tips of arrows of words aimed at me. I thought I’d never see the light of day again. I thought I was depressed. I was. I thought my ideas of who I was were *******. They weren’t.

I know of a girl who wants to make people happy. A girl who talks to unicorns and a girl who walks around her house waiting for a person to appear so she can make them happy. This girl is trapped within me. I hear her polite knocks, yet I’ve locked her away and thrown away the key. This girl is determined. She’ll find a way out. I know she will. And when she does, the old me will slip away, like a snake shedding its skin, I’ll know who I am. She will know who I am. And together, we’ll set the world on fire. This time, we’ll watch it go up in flames.

every once in a while, i forget things. i forget that smiles are meant to last longer than a couple seconds. i forget that depression is my monster i must fight. i forget that i must fight. i'm tired. i forget that i'm supposed to be going to class, that a C- isn't the end of the world, i forget to tell my professors i'm not okay. i forget to hide behind a smile and sometimes words come out that you weren't supposed to hear. or maybe i know all of this. maybe i know all of this and i'm hiding. maybe i'm hiding.
-z.z

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.

if you’ve ever gone through withdrawal,
you know that the awful part is not in the obvious shakes and pains
but in the facts that state how it was so that you got to this point
and the fact that your once saviour can’t save you anymore

the awful part is in the shame that follows—-
don’t ******* shame me for medicating my mind
or making decisions that provide me some temporary bliss,
some temporary ease,
some temporary it-doesn’t-*******-hurt-so-much
i know what i “got myself into”
i also “got myself out”
and i’d willingly go back

it’s silent at night
and then it’s not
it’s like someone is having a house party two feet away and the thermostat has been repossessed by a pixie and one second you’re fine but then the next it feels like you are quite literally shedding your skin

but that’s not the awful part.

you’re right in that the come down is just absolutely awful
but if i had the chance to do it over,
i’d still pick this.

-rgp

i am apathetic.
which is funny, for an empath
to go from feeling too much
to feeling nothing
what stress caused the strings to break within me?
what bitterness and hatred caused a sudden lack of feeling?
oh
chronic depression
you’re back.
****.
-rgp

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

the last time I saw Death
I was waiting anxiously for his arrival
he'd been talked up so much in my life i just had to see him for myself, with my own two eyes
I was ready to meet the one who would put an end to my misery
when I finally came face to face with the creator of endings, tears slid out of my eyes so silently I wasn't sobbing or mourning but rejoicing
Death was so ******* beautiful, you know?
He put my mind at ease, and my soul to sleep
Kept asking me if this was what I really wanted
Death knows consent is **** but he also knew
I wasn't completely ready to leave yet
He stroked my cheek, wiped the tears from my eyes, and whispered
"not yet, love."
he promised he'd return but another winter has come and gone and
I haven't seen him since

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"