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 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

Holden Caulfield
A boy
Not yet a man
Stuck in the middle
Of two worlds
Ambivalence
Holden Caulfield
Calls up Sunny
The depressing
*******
Holden is nothing
But a boy
Not yet a man
Still stuck in the middle
Of two worlds
His virginity
Remains intact
Holden Caulfield
Thinks you’re a phony
A fake
Not who you really are
Old Stradlater
Old Ackley
Old Sally
Old Holden
Is a phony
Holden Caulfield
Isn’t who he really is
either

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

Fifty. Five. Minutes. Until Shut Down.
Fifty. Five. Minutes. Until Shut Down.

Rain is falling softly but the only pitter patter I hear tonight comes from the sound of my fingers flying frantically over keys as I try to make out one last message before the screen goes dark

Guys, I don’t know what to do
I--

11:11. Freezing. All. Activity.
Moment of Silence. For All Who Didn’t. Make It.
11:11. Freezing. All Activity.

Hate 11:11
We know.
Why does the internet insist on The Moment Of Silence for Lost Souls? Do I really need the constant reminder that I ****** everything up??

Forty. Five. Minutes. Until Shut Down.
Forty. Five. Minutes. Until Shut Down.

You’ll be okay. Here. Read this.
http://dryyoureyes-startbelieving.tumblr.com/post/112628324066
I won’t sleep tonight
You don’t have to

Twenty. Five. Minutes. Until Shut Down.
Twenty. Five. Minutes. Until Shut Down.

Time is fading faster than the sun set this evening. My hands are trembling. What do I have to do to slip into the Interface of the Internet?

They told me it has been done before. Except that they never make it back. When the doors shut and the screens go black, the late night insomniacs grow restless.

Do you hear that pounding?
That is us, trying to get back into the Doors.
That is us, trying to revive
**ourselves.

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.

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

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

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

the other day an online friend told me I was one of the most positive people they knew
how amazing it is that i can speak to someone's needs when they didn't realise they needed it the most
that's my internet smile speaking
telling people they can do it and oozing sunshine and rainbows out of pores I didn't even know existed
when in reality all I want scratch that need is for someone to tell me my struggles are not all in my head.
if you could see my face you'd see my Internet smile and eyes on the verge of flooding.

There is so much I want to tell you. How not fine and super awesome I've been. How most nights I cry into my pillow, wondering what it would be like to just stop living
I want to ask you how I got here, as if you could tell me the exact coordinates of the place I fell from the face of the earth but I know
you are asking yourself the exact same question
how are we surviving in a world that's constantly trying to bring us down

why is it that every time I see something good
my memory erases it faster than I can blink its like
I am hardwired to not feel happy
I want to tell you about the panic I felt when I misplaced my blade
I want to tell you how when I found a new one i could breathe again even though I told you I'd stop
I'm not using them but I still want to tell you about the urges
the tingling sensation in the tips of my fingers I get when I don't
how I forget how to breathe the moment I need oxygen the most how my lungs feel like fire in a drought-stricken desert this is what dying must feel like
what does laughter sound like?

some days I wake up feeling numb from my head to toe it hurts so much
when i can't remember why i'm still here i think about how you reacted when i told you i couldn't keep on going
somehow i find courage in the cracks of your voice you wanted me here
and so i'll stay
i'll hang on the best i can though my hands are sweaty and my fingers might slip and some days my arms feel like brittle sticks about to snap in two
i'm not going to let go yet

i want to tell you that in the dark hours of the night right before the clock strikes 12 i see you everywhere and i'm so sorry i am so sorry for breaking Us
i want to tell you how much i miss you
ask if you feel the same
i wish things were the way the used to be i'll tell you
but I won't tell you any of this
I've got an internet smile
and an "I'm fine" when you ask for it
whether they are lies or the truth, I hope to guarantee you will never
find
out

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 no more left to offer him

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?

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.

I needed to know it would be okay tonight
Even though my heart kept telling me
It wasn’t

I wanted to bottle my emotions and throw them far out to sea
Even though I knew
The bottle would come back inevitably

I drew sunshine and rainbows all over my paper with brightly coloured crayons
My fingers curled around the black one as I slashed thunderclouds and lightning bolts through the sun

I listened to happy music and tried dancing like no one was watching
I sat down on the ground, just sat there in the middle of my room and thought this is so stupid
I turned off the music and contemplated my existence

I went to my journal, opened it to a fresh page
but didn’t write
I just wanted to see my tears hit the paper
I just wanted to see the evidence

I got online

I wrote inspirational posts about being so much more than you think you are and
You are beautiful don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise
Smile, I told them, it will be okay
I needed to know it would be okay
So I told others it would be okay
And slowly,
I began to believe myself

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

I’m the kind of person who will stand up to you if you get in my face.
it has taken me years to get to this point
on a platform where I can voice my opinions freely
I’m careful with my words
though so not
if you cross me,
I will let you know
I’m the kind of person who can run a mile with blood on her knees, ignoring the sting
I’ll get to where I’m going
I will fall a million times and get up every single time
blood has got nothing on me
it’s not a race to the finish line, you know
I’m the kind of person who has double edged sword of sass and snark hidden in a sheath you can’t see
I’m pleasant and kind, always smiling
don’t let this aura deceive you
I can fight a battle with my words, always make it sound like I’m winning
I know when to back down
gracefully
when I lose, I’ll say so
take my pride and leave
I’m the kind of person who will fight for you
I’m a kind person for me.

peeling off labels is like peeling off skin of a 3rd degree sunburn
i hate how it looks
and it's gonna hurt like hell
but i don't want the evidence there
why do i even care so much?

dear society
rip
i am not "anorexic"
tear
i have metabolism issues

the stickiness gums up
i didn't ask for this
shred
i'm not "antisocial"
strip
but i like being alone

stab
i'm not teen angst
hack
i'm growing up
stop telling me
i have problems
scratch
i know i have problems

i'm not canned vegetables
why do you need to know my contents?
pick
i'm not yours to scrutinize
stop staring at my body
stop trying to get into my head

stop slapping **** on me
and expecting me to fit into the little labeled box
i'm not
your labels

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

absence is said to make the heart grow fonder
but when you've been away
you don't grow fonder of the absence
your heart doesn't grow fonder of the absence
so why
do people say that?
my heart hasn't grown fonder of the distance
honestly I thought the gap would close and my heart might heal over the wound
instead, it's just beginning to get pried open and with every letter I write, with every hour that passes that I'm still not asleep
my heart turns a shade darker and
floats a little farther away from my body

little sister did you do your homework?
little sister don't make me ask you again
little sister why haven't you done it yet?
little sister i swear if you don't

little sister stop following us
little sister- no not now
little sister you'll understand when you're older
little sister go away

little sister i don't know the answers to everything
little sister ask mom
little sister stop bugging me
little sister i don't have time

little sister let me tell you this
little sister life is hard
little sister i'm not going to hold your hand but
little sister i'll always be here for you

little sister stop relying on other people
little sister you're stronger than you know
little sister you can do it
little sister i believe in you

There's this thing called the heart
It is an ***** vital for existence
It's a mass of muscle
It's the powerhouse of the body
It's not that pretty but
Existence was never pretty
-
We associate the heart with love
and symmetrically contoured shapes cut from red construction paper with safety scissors
We romanticize what love should be
Love flows from my heart to yours oh darling you're beautiful let me love you
-
From do you like me check yes or no to
Let me love you because I think you're wonderful
Let me show you all of the ways you are perfect
The way you don't stop being, like your heart that never stops beating
-
Science tells me that love is a series of chemical reactions firing off in my brain--
Endorphins that are being released every time I smile at you, they tell me the heart does not anatomically correlate to the sensation of what love feels like
-
Life tells me sometimes, Science doesn't know what it means to experience love outside of chemical reactions
Love feels like the rush of heartbeats palpitating faster and faster, like my ribcage is a house for one million butterflies trying to break free
Love feels like a moment frozen in time, the space time continuum doesn't exist here
We are operating on a different universe, and this one knows love exists in all forms, in every moment, in each sideways glance and "I think I like you"
-
Life tells me that the reason we associate an ***** vital to our survival to a feeling so intense
Is so that we won't forget that sometimes the very act of existence is to love
-
Te amo
I love you
La amo
I love him
Los amo
I love myself
Me amo
-
-z.z

there are too many times when i feel alone.
i could be in a room surrounded by people
and not know a single one or rather
pretend i don’t know a single one
i worry about being a bother
am i annoying you yet sorry i’ll
stop
i’m lonely i’m alone i’m so sorry i’m alone i’mlonelyi’malonei’msosorryi’m–
okay. hi. who are you?
you are lonely too?
goodbye. see you soon.

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

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

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

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

Someone turned off the moon
I searched high and low
Someone stole the moon out of the sky
How? is what I want to know

It was a funny feeling, to look up that night
To see the night light gone
A magic ladder that reached the heavens
The stars couldn't sing their song

Someone took the moon and ran
Snatched it without a sound
It was a very discombobulating night
Without the moon around

he told me the secret to life
was faking it
he said that no one will be able to see the cracks in your skin beneath
the makeup i'll put on you
look in the mirror, he said
your reflection is flawless
and that girl is absolutely
100%
you
no scratches were visible
from the night i tried to claw my eyes out
he trimmed my nails short and said
they looked prettier that way
my formerly bloodshot eyes
and ratchet hair
had been replaced with contacts
the mane, tamed down into a tight little bun
i wasn't a girl who hated herself
i wasn't the girl who tried to hang herself
i was the girl who loved herself and thought life was just grand
i was the girl who was afraid of death
the screaming voices in my head were replaced
with condescending mama hen clucks
he spun me around once more and said
darling
look at your beautiful face
look at
you
yeah
look at me

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

maybe i'm crazy
or maybe i'm a poet
you know they tell me you can't tell the first sign of going mental when its yourself
but i have oceans inside of me
and every time i cry i wish i could be a tsunami
or a hurricane
its not that i fancy destruction but rather
i like a nice clean slate
i like
second and third and fourth chances
i like you
that should be music to your ears because I
chuckle
i don't like many people
yet if it is music then it must sound god-awful
because every time i tell you
you cover your ears and scream
they did tell me i was mental
but i bet you didn't hear that either

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….

She's looking into the glass again, getting real up close and personal
What about this image looks disgusting, wrong, or out of place?
I think it's my lips or my eyes or the landscape of my face
She moves down
Collarbone jutting out, shoulders that form a 30 60 90 triangle from slouching too much
A concave ribcage, ribs protruding through incandescent skin that scars too easily
A back curved by lordotic lords that make her arms dangle like a dead baby doll's
Too thin thighs that she can wrap her too small hands around and a gap between her legs a mile wide but **** those curves are shy
Knees that wobble and knock when she walks, they say she could've been a dancer by her gait, so awkward yet poised ******* she says I know I walk funny stop rubbing more salt into this ****** wound
She takes a step back from the shattered glass
and whispers I never liked you
*******
-
-z.z

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

my internal therapist is telling me to not write this poem
to not dwell on damaged thoughts, there's no fixing them, dear.
so maybe not.
maybe i'm not writing this poem to try to fix my broken thoughts
maybe i just want peace maybe i am hurting and writing this poem is the only way i know how to wade through the swamp of pain you've thrown me in
two years ago this week, i was getting ready to see my sister marry her best friend
i was bright eyed, had a mane of hair i couldn't tame, excited about life
i was joking with some new friends i'd made about one of them crashing the wedding
i was about to meet Anxiety for the first time
now here i am, shorter hair, sitting with my laptop perched upon sweatpant clad, starved, legs, my fingers not moving fast enough over the keys, i'm tired.
Anxiety and I have taken our relationship to the next level and he visits me often, particularly at night when I'm thinking about you
Anxiety gets jealous, punishes me, forces me to think about your words while suffocating me
i'm tired
i'm afraid that lies about me still flood your mind and i can't change that
i want to talk to you, have a conversation, ask you why
i've apologised and still i will say i am sorry because i am
why do you loathe me so much
i've had people tell me to get over myself, over you, over the situation and i'm trying
but i've never had someone do what you did to me and i'm hurting still this pain i wonder, did you intentionally do it to bring me down?
you've must've known what with my history of attention seeking self harming downward spiral
i never did it for attention
i've taken to numbing myself, last night i dug around my art supplies box for the set of extra blades my sister in law gave me for my pencil sharpener for christmas
i'm not sharpening anything, there isn't anything to sharpen
my friend tells me not to do it, that it doesn't do me any good long term
because that's what i'm dealing with right? long term pain?
sleepless nights and anxiety attacks
sadness i can't escape from
saying no when my niece asks me to play sorry willow i'm tired i'm so tired
so maybe my blades won't bring me long term salvation
maybe two years in therapy won't help but that's okay i was in there anyway for the big mess of my life that you told me to get over
maybe i don't care and am going to treat my thighs as cutting boards because temporary sanity is sanity and i've lost my head as it is
my therapist on wednesday will tell me to forget you
and i will try
and i will fail
i don't know why i'm writing this poem
i'm a crazy believer in better things
how this poem will make things better is beyond me but hey
sue me for trying to see hope in the little things
how artless of me
the artist in me, pain(ting)
-
-z.z

My alter ego has pixie short, electrifying purple hair
she is unafraid of being bold
she's got tattoos on her wrists, doc martins on her feet, ebony black talons, and a voice that booms to declare her presence
my alter ego is a sass master and snark shark
she can call you out on your b.s. faster than you can bat an eye
she will swing that bat at your eye, she's not afraid of using her words as defense weapons
but she knows when to stop speaking
one night I was speaking to my alter ego, asking her how in the world did she get to be so brave?
she laughed and said
darling, it's always been in us, you just haven't unsheathed the sword yet
you've been too busy hiding behind the shield, you forgot you know how to wield
you fight with gentleness, not bite
and that's okay
I shrunk further back into my bed, while she, larger than life, thunked me on the head, said you'll get there, kiddo
and suddenly she vanished, with a mischievous glint in her eye, disappeared to cause change.
-
-z.z

i like the chill that races up my spine
when my voice projects too loudly
it reminds me that my voice is mine
and so i'll shout from the rooftops proudly

my voice is most often soft
people rarely hear me speak
they look around, did someone squawk?
nope, it was more like a tinny squeak

i'm not the bravest person
yet my opinions urge me to speak my mind
every blue moon i'll gather the courage
and my definition of brave is redefined

my voice may be small but when it rains it pours
my mouth grew wings and away it will soar
bringing me to heights i never knew
speaking is only worth it if the words are true

today my barbaric yawp will be heard
both in written and spoken word
i will not hide behind the veil of silence
silence may be golden but being loud is preferred

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 have made myself into this person to justify for why I am not that person

it's okay. i never liked people anyways
"did you ever think maybe the bullies had something to do with it?"
maybe but i've never been a big people person. who can tell anymore?

black is a nice colour
"why?"
it is all the colours and none of the colours
"do you think this might be because all the other colours were taken and you wanted to be different?"
no, it's because i find it beautiful how a colour that dark can be the background for a bright life

"why don't you like music?"
i prefer the silence
"but music speaks louder than silence"
i beg to differ. silence speaks louder than words.
"how so?"
you don't notice how loud silence is until the music fades out

i am okay with who i am
"is it because you have had to be okay with that or are you hiding?
you're not really okay, are you? how could you be okay you practically made up a life out of justifications"
*i am okay with who i am.

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

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

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.

new year's eve
trying to forget
trying to erase
music was blaring
or maybe it was the laughter
yes, this year will be different
the clock stroke 12
flakes began to fall
in a land where snow is rare
some made snowballs
others watched while i
stood in the middle of the road
waiting for a new
beginning

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

the hardest thing i do as a disabled person
is not
"fight my disability"
we were never at war with one another
like me, it just wants to exist
and so i let it
to some extent
i’ll never “become my disability”
yet i don’t believe it’s a bad thing either
i’ve come to realise that he’s become a part of me
as he’s helped shape my thinking
and maybe even my personality a little bit
i owe all my stubbornness to him
nah
i don’t fight my disability
we’re bffs

the hardest thing i do as a disabled person
is not
"get up every day"
though for a while, i thought it was
getting up is easy
facing the world?
getting easier
i used to blush at the thought of getting a wheelchair
i’d bury my face in my knees and cover my ears with my hands, thinking that if i couldn’t see it or hear it, i wouldn’t need it
i cared too much of what society would see me as
not “normal teenage girl”
"sad confined possibly a teenage girl?"
normal is overrated
and to be honest?
so is society

the hardest thing i do as a disabled person
is not
pretending i’m okay with mainstreaming
dear teachers, “mainstreaming” was never in my vocabulary
pretending?
pfft dear teachers, this is 100% real contentment
IEPs got some getting used to but after 16 years of endless doctors appointments, people in white sterile coats, plastic latex gloves poking, prodding demanding things of me
"mainstreaming"
won’t ever exist in my vocabulary
i know i’m smart
and i know i can do it
so don’t you DARE cry at my graduation
it’d be pretty pathetic if i believed in myself more than you do

the hardest thing i do as a disabled person
is
accepting the realities
i don’t know when i’ll take my last step
i don’t know when my muscles will give out for good
i know that every day i won’t know what’s right in front of me
i know that i’ll never be able to run another mile in my life
and i know that i won’t ever stop dreaming about the things i wish i could do
would love to do
won’t ever do
might do

one day

i’m lost
my legs are tired
and the concrete looks like a trampoline
if you throw something hard at an even harder surface, the something does not bounce
it breaks
if i throw my body to the concrete that looks like a trampoline
my bones will shatter
but my soul will only bruise
and that annoys me

because i thought death was easy
it’s this life that’s hard
what happens when escaping life becomes so difficult that death disappears from sight
when i thought death was easy but there’s no more fight left in me
when did trying to die become so difficult?

they tell me i’m not alone
which i find to be pretty funny because when my thoughts are falling out of my head too quickly for me to catch i’ll look around
and all i see is fragmented thoughts splintered on the ground

you have commitments
appointments
social obligations that consist of lifting others up
you have a job
and friends
and school
and papers to write
i know it’s hard for you sometimes, too

i know i drag you down
you say you won’t entertain the thought that my existence is a show put on by lucifer’s angels because i’m just
dramatic
you say
my idleness is the reason why my brain is wasting away
i’m the reason i’m wasting away
if it’s all in my head,
will the pain get better as i get worse?

they tell me
i’m here
and they’ll miss me if i go but when i tell them i’ve been trying to leave for years
they tell me no
i’ve been trying to stay for years
i laugh

they tell me
there’s so much more to live for
smiles and hugs and really dumb jokes
art and literature and art and art and art
and art

one thing art has taught me?
everything dies
everything ends
and humanity’s soul takes a beating every time we try
to erase the existence they’ve worked so hard to create
we could be frail
and throw ourselves to the pavement
the headlines the next morning would read Another one Bites the Dust or something

it’s really hard to be positive when you don’t want to be
or remember how to be
when stats of suicide are so frequently reported you wonder if that’s what you’ll become, another statistic
“the percentage of suicides of queer, korean adoptee, catholic, females has now risen to 1% this is Fox News reporting”
or something

i’ve heard that.

when did trying to die become so difficult?

-rgp

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.

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

broken wings
will fly away
just not
immediately
broken wings
are broken for a reason
there was a story
and a struggle
and a person who was done trying
he broke himself
she betrayed herself
to save himself
from her wounds
you can’t fly away
you can’t get hurt
maybe broken wings
are broken for a reason