If I die before I wake,

Then I have died and will not awake.

But if I dream before I sleep,

Then I have dreamed a better dream

Than this life I live to live my dreams.

And if I die before I wake,

then the dreams to come will more dreams make.

It's here again.
panic panic panic panic

Each breath a stab in the lungs,
making me feel breathless.

My heart pumping, thumping, pumping.
Blood rushing through the veins faster than before,
chasing the adrenaline
which was rushing to spread throughout my body.

My brain is moving a mile a minute,
racing my thoughts to the finish line.

I'm shaking now, I can't feel my hands.
Is this what it's like to join the dance?
I've heard a lot about it,
they often call it a tango.

You're dancing with the devil,
he's run his nail down your arm and spread his poison

I'm having a panic attack.

panic panic panic panic panic panic

Breathe deep. Breathe deep. Breathe.

Take a breath.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe deep.

Breaths I take.

Take a breath.
Take my life.

No, wait that's not right.

I'm dancing with the devil tonight.
Afterall, who doesn't like the tango?

I've seen myself in the mirror
And it looks the same as always
But the feeling deep down under
Shows that the real me is far away

I've lived in the same skin forever
And it feels the same as always
But the look of it asunder
Shows that the real me is far away

I've breathed in the same way as always
And it's always been suffocating
But to outsiders it seems normal
Nothing but brooding too long on twilight

But in my soul I feel untamed
And in my skin I feel maimed
In my breath I feel strangled
My everything yearning for freedom

Freedom from this, far away from this

Can you feel the pain that radiates from me?

Can you feel the hurt that cripples me, makes me unable to breath?

Can you feel me in despair?

Can you feel?

Happy Father's Day
To the best father I could ask for,
My mother who played both roles
Since I was only six months old.
Who bravely stepped up to a man
Who had been making our lives hell
And for knowing when I needed
A mother more than a father.
Thank you for saving
All five of us from a life with a man
Who loved alcohol more than his kids
Who loved smokin cigs
More than a nice barbecue.
Who never bothered to be a part of our lives
When the going was rough because of him.

Thank you Mom, for always putting us first.
Your the best father I could have asked for.

When his lips met mine,
When I gave in to this other guy,
it all felt wrong.
His skin burnt my skin,
my hands burnt in his grip.
it all felt wrong.
There was nothing there anymore,
nothing there for me to want.
I thought maybe I could get over you.
I'll do to him what you did to me.
But it didn't turn out that way.
Because I wanted to tell him no,
to tell him I'm in love with someone else
to tell him he can go to hell.
But I realized something.
I realize that no matter how many times I say that I love you,
that I'm in love you,
that I want nobody else to know me how you do,
that none of it changes the way that you feel.
How you're never going to love anybody ever again.
How you don't want to love me,
how you want to deny me.
And no matter if I see that you do love me,
you'll deny it.
So when his skin burnt my skin,
I let it burn.
I did not try to extinguish it.
Because you wouldn't care if he had me or not.

But once he left, I fell into my own arms.
I fell into my own arms, and I cried.
Because he will never matter to me.
Because no matter how badly he wants me,
I do not want him.
I want you.
My tears fell, and I held myself.
Because you weren't there to hold me,
and you never will be able to.

I know her eyes, I know her eyes, I know her eyes.
I've stared into them for every hour of every day, I've carried her in my heart, in my soul.
I know her eyes.
They aren't the same.
They aren't ablaze.
They are not her eyes.
I've stared at the glassy exterior that covers her eyes, I've stared at the round cheeks and the thin hands. I've stared at the soft appearance of her skin and I regret every hour of every day for all the moments I lose not being able to hold her.
I carried her for months, supporting her until she could breathe and once she started taking those breaths, everything went wrong.

And she was gone.

I stare into the pictures of her for hours every moment that I can but still, it's not enough. it's never enough.
And I regret each and every day that I can't hold her, that I can't stare into her big, round, hazel eyes; and there's a new she now, one who's eyes aren't hazel, one who's skin doesn't look as soft, one who was able to breathe right and still continues to. And I guess it's a blessing but it feels like a curse, because I know her eyes and *they are not the same.

If loving me will **** you,
It's okay to lie.
But if all it does is hurt you,
Why don't you give it a try?

I can help you heal those wounds,
I can put my hand on your burns,
And I can hold you if you cry.

But loneliness will not hold you,
It cannot heal you
It cannot feel you.

Loneliness can not feel the pulsing
Of your the blood beneath your burn,
But it can strangle you trying to.

If loving you will **** me,
I'll gladly see it through.

Depression, anxiety
and everything in between
these are the things that trouble me
these are the things that burden me
these are the things that destroy me

I've always avoided asking for help.

The thought that I might have to ask somebody for help...
it made me feel lesser,
it made me feel weaker,
it made me feel stupid.

I mean how can a human being who is supposed to be so smart,
need help with something?

at least that's what I've always told myself.
I've always told myself that if I needed help I didn't do it right,
I didn't listen well enough,
I didn't try hard enough.
I didn't try.

If I need help, I shouldn't bother asking.
Because you can't fix broken.

But today, I realized something else.

I'm not afraid of asking for help.
Sure, I can take advice and I can listen well,
and I can get good grades and I can work real hard.

I go to therapy every week.
I always think that it's helping.

But then I have a breakdown again. And it breaks me down.
I have to scream, I can't breathe, I have to cry, I have to sob.
I feel like my insides are being ripped out.
I feel like there's a demon inside me
that is constantly trying to get out.
That's what my panic attacks and anxiety attacks are like.

But every week, I go to my therapist and I tell him I'm doing fine.

Because he asked me how I'm doing, and I'm doing fine.

But I am not fine.


I think I'm so afraid
of asking for help,

*because what if you can't help me?

Love, actually
is nothing but two hearts intertwined.
love, actually
is nothing but two into one heart combined.

Love, actually

hurts so much.

but I'd rather have loved and lost

than to have loved never before.

My heart is intertwined
forever with yours in time.

It hurts.

Where is my promised land?
Where is the land of peace?
What about all the things you put me through?
What about all the things I did for you?
Did you forget about the way you held my hand?
Did you think you would not see my grief?

You took away my promised land.

All that I did, I did for you.

All that I have, I had from you.

All that is gone is because of you.

My stomach tightens, my lips purse
My dreams are fading, I am cursed.

My hands shake, my eyes wake
My hopes are drowning, I am misplaced.

My legs are weak, my soul is free
My spirit is surrounding. I am grounding.

Prepare for landing, and then lift off.

What if your pain relievers
Don't relieve my pain?
What if those true believers
Don't believe I'm sane?

What if the way they stereotype me
Isn't my stereotype at all?
What if just being me
Is what they see as my downfall?

What if the stories they tell you
Are never really the truth?
Would you stand up and confront them
Or let them bleed out you?

What if my suicide
Wasn't really suicide at all?
What if it was first degree ******
Premeditated; assumed.

What if your psychiatric meds
Don't "clarify" and "soothe".
What if they don't control me
And my will isn't under control?

What if America was free again
From drug scandals and abuse?
What if meds were actually prescribed
To people of dire use?
What if the living were given chance to live with mistakes instead of the dead?
What if we assumed the living
Were imperfect until death?

What if we did not assume
That my mood swings are chemical?
That maybe I, one too many times,
Had encountered something to cause them?

She was sitting on her windowsill,

looking at the tree's.

She was sitting on the windowsill,

with her hands between her knee's.

Her mind was at the edge of nowhere,

waiting to be seen.

But nobody came to look for her,

not the clouds, nor the tree's.

Her feet were braced right at the edge,

no longer anyplace to flee.

She was sitting on her windowsill,

thinking how soft the ground looked

way up with the tree's.

Downwards she tumbled,

now she was seen.

She is sitting at her windowsill,

floating with the birds and the bee's.

All this time I thought of us lying,
lying together,
lying alone,
trying to protect one another
from the truths created in his bed and home.

Holding me close, i thought it was right.
Letting me go, I only proved him right.

I was just as safe with him
as I was without him.

Sickening.
This is sickening.

there's so much to tell, so much that is rushing through my mind.
but I can't do it, can't say it on the line.

these past three days have been hell and back,
have been my own personal heart attack
and there is so much to write.

But I can't write it all now,
I can't put it all down,
I have to go over it a hundred times
before I can make these words rhyme.

Soon, though.
Soon the words will rhyme in my mind.

The girl in the mirror said more in her silence than anybody has ever said in words.
Sometimes I honestly don’t know what to say…. I don’t know what to say to you, to say to the world, to say to my friends, my family, to say to myself. Sometimes I’m just speechless. Sometimes I can’t say anything because I forget how to speak; sometimes I even forget how to breathe, how to sleep, how to eat. Sometimes I wake up and I can’t remember my own name. I realize all this is because I've been living so long in the shadows of the girl I once was compared to the girl I am now. That girl I was… she was great. She was the honor student, the responsible one, the one who treated her friends with kindness and respect, and stayed out late occasionally. But the girl I am now… she’s the extreme version of that. She laughs louder than anyone in the room, she smiles more genuinely than the happiest person in the room, she loves to spend time with her friends and she treats them like her equals, her family, her soul. But she stopped caring about school and she stopped caring about her feelings, and she stopped caring about how she was being treated, all simply because the moments she shared with the people she cared about were just those tiny bursts of happiness that she can’t muster up when she’s no longer with them, when she’s no longer busy, because she has to face the girl in the mirror everyday who looks at her with judgement in her eyes, disdain on her face, and woe in her soul for the person she’s become because she let the world tell her who she was supposed to be, how she was supposed to smile and breathe and pretend everything is okay. The world told her how to live and she depended on that, because she had never trusted herself to do the right thing, to do what she needed to do.That girl in the mirror stares back at the new girl and shakes her head, points her finger and says “Girl, you need to look at yourself. You barely sleep, you barely eat, you think you’re breathing but you’re really just dreaming. You’re walking through the world like a robot, laughing sincerely, smiling genuinely, and doing  everything for everyone and nothing for yourself. You try to downplay the seriousness of the fact that you fall asleep at the wheel almost every night because you go into work early, stay late, and then go out with your friends; you pay for them when you got nothing because you claimed you ate earlier when you didn't because you don’t like spending too much money but you know that you get paid more than they do and you feel like it’s your duty to the world to take care of the people you care about. You step up to the plate and hit what could have been a home-run, but you forget to do the running. Your body is shutting down on you and you won’t do anything about it because you’re too busy trying to be everywhere at once instead of being where you are when you’re there. You worry so much about the future and forget about the present, you forget that this life is a gift and you let people take it from you.” And sometimes that girl in the mirror won’t say anything at all, because I won’t even look at her. I stopped looking at her. Then one day she just disappeared. I look at the mirror now, and she isn't there. She left me too. When that day came that she was gone, I realized the severity of the circumstances in which I’d been living.

And I finally decided to change. I go to bed on time and I wake up early, I look in the mirror and though that girl is gone, I can see the outline of another, because she isn't real yet but I’m going to make her real. I walk outside and I feel the sun reaching for me, to lift me up so I can see the world and I can see why it’s beautiful, and I feel the wind caressing my skin, pushing me onward because the birds and the bee’s are waiting for me to succeed. I feel the ground clapping at my every step, encouraging me to make my move, to mark my place, to tell the world I am here to stay.

And I changed. I smile genuinely still, but I smile because I actually am happy, because I can feel it in me now, I can feel my soul coming back to me again. And I realize I owe it to the girl in the mirror who left me, because even my reflection saw me crashing; but she did more for me than I ever did for myself, because the judgment in her eyes was really just her tears, the disdain on her face was wrinkled skin from worrying too much, and the woe in her soul was really just love, love for the person she was forced to watch tear herself apart at the seams, standing by and doing nothing because what can a reflection do?

But she changed me. And as crazy as it sounds, I owe it to my reflection for making me see how unhealthy I was becoming, how I was living for others instead of living for me. And her silence is what got to me, because for a while, all I’d ever thought I needed was silence, but when the day finally came when the world fell silent to me, I realized I needed words; I needed words to say “I need help” to say “I can’t breathe”, to say "I can’t remember who I am." And the day I admitted it was the day that she left, and because she left.

I see her in my dreams now. And last night, I finally saw her smile again.

It took me some time to realize that the girl in the mirror was really my soul, stuck in the reflection of the girl I had portrayed myself to be.

And the day she left was the day I had finally set her free, to let her be who she had always been, to let her bleed when she was bleeding instead of covering up the wounds and pretending she was okay. My soul came back to me, and that has meant more to me than anything else ever will.

I don't quite know how to start off this letter, as I don't really know how to start to say goodbye. How do you say goodbye to somebody you've loved your whole life? How do you say words you never thought you'd have to say?
Never in a million years did I think that this is how you would go,  that this is how you would be taken from us. If you had caught me back when I was 15 and asked if I thought that my beloved aunt who had devoted her life and soul to the lord would be fighting cancer, I'd tell you it could never happen.
But, I learned very quickly that cancer does not discriminate. Cancer will take whomever it chooses, despite the amount of prayers, love, and hope we send out into the abyss.
I still remember the day I found out. The night before, everyone was gathering at grams for an extremely rare occasion - a visit from you. It was exciting and terrifying when I heard the news that you were coming down from the Monastery and staying the weekend, as typically Nuns are not allowed to leave the Monastery for any general reason, let alone for leisure. At the time you were coming down my cousin and I were not speaking, though I can barely remember why now. That night while I was working and you spent your first night home with your parents in very many years, I received a text from my cousin that read "Hey, when you talk to Aunt Sally tomorrow, text me. I know we're not on the best of terms but just text me, okay?" So then the worry became more prominent and it seemed as though I was being terrorized that night as I dreamed. The next day I went to my grams, and soon enough the world was crumbling around me. I was not prepared in the slightest to hear what I was about to hear, for nothing in this world can prepare you for the news that cancer has riddled it's way into your loved one. No one and nothing can prepare you for the news that the cancer isn't just at its beginning stages, but that its just nearing its end. That, from the moment the cancer formed in your body until the moment you noticed an abnormality and went for a doctor's visit, you had not even the slightest clue that cancer was taking over your body. I thank the Lord that your disease was, for the majority of the time before this past year and some, painless. I thank the Lord that we were lucky enough to have so much more time with you than what was originally thought. I thank the Lord for the many blessings already bestowed upon my family; for my amazing nephew and niece, for the wonderfully supportive family we are, and so much more.
But now, with each and every passing day, I wake up knowing full well that the time span of two weeks to two months left for you is only a number, that this means nothing. The Lord will take you when he pleases, and no amount of prayers to Him, to Mary, to Joseph, to the Seven Martyrs, or to any Saint, will change the Lord's mind.

There are none.

Just be yourself, that's inadequate enough.

I give lessons.

I'm not asking you to change,
Even if you are a mess right now,
I'm not placing you any blame.
In fact, I'm just as much of a mess
as you are and so much more,
because I fell in love with someone I shouldn't
like I never have before.
But your biggest argument,
is that I deserve so much better,
someone who isn't a mess right now,
someone who will take me out
and not be afraid to see someone
who either of us might know
and have to explain why we're together
though neither of us know.
I'm just as much a mess as you are,
and I'm scared to lose any time.
you're convinced soon your life will be over
and you can't take time out of mine.
But when you go further I want to pull you closer,
because I don't want to see me be with anyone but you
I do not want to love them the way that I love you,
I do not want to hold them the way that I hold you,
I do not want to walk down the aisle to anybody but you,
because I'll never be as comfortable with someone
as I was with you.
When I told you what he did to me,
you could barely open your eyes.
I think it was cause your tears would have fallen
like the rain does from the sky.
You told me you'd teach him a lesson,
you told me he'd regret the night.
And when I heard you say those last lines,
"With a hand around his throat
for touching something that was mine."
My heart skipped not just one, but a beat three different times.
Because I finally saw all that love filling the colors of your eyes.

We built this place.
Look around you,
We built it.
We built our home,
We built it all.
We built this life.
Don't you dare walk away
Saying that the fault was all mine.
Cause there's no 'I' in we.
We made the bed we lay in.
We made this.

Why don't you look at me?

Why don't you see all the things that I see?

Why is all this unclear to you but not to me?

Why don't you look at me?

Why don't you feel the things that I felt?

Why haven't you held the burden's I've held?

why won't you look at me
why do you ignore the tears I do cry
why do you chase after time I cannot bide

why won't you look at me?
why won't you look at the face you've painted?

Aren't you proud of your work?

Changing my world's gravitation into your world's,
so you are the sole center of my universe

Aren't you happy with how I hurt?

Making me feel as though I am not real,
not really my own abode

Why won't you look at me?
*Aren't you *happy with your work?

When he calls me darling,
his hand is holding mine.
When he calls me darling,
my anger lasts a short amount of time.
When he calls me darling,
all my sadness slips away,

Except when I realize he won't be mine,
all of those things replay.

But when he calls me darling,
I desire for just his touch.
I desire for him to hold me,
he does not have to say much.
And when he calls me darling,
the world is suddenly alright.

But when he calls me darling,
I remember he isn't mine.

But it still means the whole world to me,
and he still means a whole lot.
because he was the first and only one to know me,
with all my weaknesses or not.
He recognized my strength,
but caressed me for my weakness,
He recognized my reality,
its fatality and its craziness.
He saw all the walls I had built up,
and had painted to show how I felt.
Except my side of the wall was real and the other side was not.
I showed the whole world what I was capable of,
What I was faking and breaking up.
He recognized me for my flaws,
and accepted me for all.
He recognized all my mistakes
and took me by the hand, and showed me this place.
This place he was never capable of living in,
but that he had shown to many.

He took me by the hand and said,
"Darlin' here I am. And here is this place,
you can live here if you want to,
but not within my embrace.
You must choose one or the other,
eventually but not now. I will stay
but only for a while,
until you sleep safely in the clouds."

I chose not long ago,
to give up and release them both.
But he took me by my hand,
and told me darling,
you must go home.
That place was meant to be
the one thing that kept you going.
I'm here only for the moment,
and to keep your memories floating.

So go back, he cried,
and be happy.
Because I cannot give that to you.
But I brought you here my darling,
Let your sorrows wash away and disappear.

When he calls me darling,
his hand is always in mine.
And when he calls me darling,
I am reminded of that time.

When the whole world had wanted him,
but only was he mine.

They tell you there's a light at the end of the road
They tell you there's a life for all those they've told

They told me I'd be alright, all I had to do was breathe
But I've been breathing since the day I was born
And I can tell you it hasn't kept me "fine"

They tell you I'm crazy,
They tell you I'm lazy,
but what they don't tell you is how I struggle to get out of bed
what they don't tell you is how close to death I've been
what they don't tell you is how strong I am.

They told me it happens all the time,
they told me soon the sun will shine
they told me many things that were all lies.
What they didn't tell me was that I was crazy,
that I was lazy,
Because what they told me was I would be fine.

But all they've done is make me crazy,
make me mad and desperate for relief from shame
shame that I shouldn't have for needing help
shame that I shouldn't have for bleeding out
shame that I shouldn't have for opening up
but it is a shame that I bear
because they told you I was crazy
and they told you I was shady.

I'm just me. And I'm having trouble being that today.
So please don't tell me that I'm crazy,
because I'm actually quite nice
I'm actually quite fun.
If you'd bothered to get to know me
you would have known all this stuff.
But you didn't.
Because you believed them when they told you I was crazy.