When was the last time you told someone you loved them without them disappearing into the floor? Tell me why you have rugs covering all the places you stood waiting for them to come back

Do you still remember the first time you tried to block the voices in your head? You wrote down every word they were saying until you realized that none of them translated to "I love you, too"

Why did you stop skipping stones? Is it because the ripples reminded you of the calls you received from your lover - eventually becoming so separated that you couldn't tell the difference between the ringing in your ears and reality

Tell me why the faucets in your house only run on Thursdays. How you shower with umbrellas to avoid the thunderstorms and how the rain still always seems to find you

Do you remember the Grand Canyon? How your tour guide explained that water pressure of a river can cut deep into a river bed, you started crying.

Where is the life boat you made? How do you keep something from falling apart with only cigarettes and tissue paper?

Why are all of your shoes filled with rocks? When was the last time you didn't think about jumping into the lake when you had them on?

Tell me how they were your life jacket - how they promised you air at the bottom of the ocean. How you haven't seen them since they jumped - how you hope that somehow they're still breathing even though you aren't.

How you haven't since the day they last did.

To the boy who was never mine, but pretended to be

ive been trying to write this letter for months now
im still not sure if it should be an apology
my biggest mistake was thinking that you could fix me
only i can fix me
i shouldnt have let you all the way in
i turned you into a puppeteer
i got ******* even though we said no strings attached
i wish you didnt have to lose me to appreciate me
i hope someday you come across a picture of me watching fireworks
and you wonder how many books i have read since then
or how many times i have re-watched eternal sunshine
or if i still eat ice cream even though im lactose intolerant
or if i ever think of you
I don’t.
i want you to have sleepless nights where your eyes flicker
trying to forget images of me laughing in your passenger seat
i want your heart to ache every time some one mentions my name around you
i wanted so bad for you to fight for me, but now i am glad you didnt
you can have the watch back, time does not exist to me anymore


I cut off every string that leads back to you

Crave it. Crave life. Desire things that aren't material. Learn to grip every little thing and never let the feeling of being blown away by this earth leave your fingertips. Try new foods from different places and cultures. Don't shut your mind off to things that are not what you deem 'normal'. Open your heart to people and do not let yourself walk away from loving and being loved. Quit allowing your fear of getting hurt overcome your need of intimacy. Stop shying away from being vulnerable. Allow yourself to feel every emotion there is to feel. Don't fret when you start to feel a little insane. Don't worry when your throat swells up and tears form around the brim of your eyes. Be angry, happy, silly, sad, and wild. When people tell you that you're being too much, laugh.  Live your life empty of fear for tomorrow or regret from yesterday. Kiss lots of boys, walk long miles, swim in foreign waters, create new things, write. Love this life and yourself.

October
it's 1 am and your hair still smells like fire. your fingers keep finding their way to your swollen lips and your mind takes you back 3 hours ago when he first kissed you. a smile is permanently etched into your face for the next couple of weeks.

November
it's new. it's exciting. you laugh with your friends giddily. your hand reaches to your phone with immense speed every time it chimes. when he places his hand on your thigh it still sends chills up your spine.

December
you say 'I love you' without having to think about it anymore. his smile is still sweet and his touch is slightly addicting. your mind is racing and aching with an overwhelming sense of need for him.

January
there have been a couple of late nights spent crying into your pillow. your friends tell you that he's being a **** and you shouldn't have to put up with this. excuses for his actions shoot out of your mouth like cannons. "he's had a bad day" "he didn't mean it" "he felt so bad" he kisses your salty tears away. everything is fine the next day. until it isn't anymore.

February
Valentine's Day was wonderful. the other days were spent with your brain racking up thoughts of inadequacy. his kisses were lustful for more, and no longer filled with the nervousness you once found adorable.

March
you finally get the courage to tell him you're upset. you tell him that he doesn't make you feel wanted anymore, good enough for him. he tells you he's sorry. you're everything he's ever wanted. now every time your face crinkles up he engulfs you in his big arms against his boy smelling shirt. you love him. he's the one for you.

April
people look at you when you're together a second longer in the hallways. he's a little distant but quick to make you feel good with shallow compliments. it's almost like he's trying too hard. it's almost like he feels bad for something and is trying to overcompensate. you continue to reassure yourself that things are fine.

May
some random girl asks if you're okay. you say yes with a tone that suggests you're asking a question. he calls you and asks you to come over. nothing is right. your head is hurting and your eyes have been stinging and rimmed red with tears all day.
7 pm
when he tells you he cheated all you hear is static. how? why? but you don't say those words out loud. you don't cry either. but you feel like you're suffocated, like your bones just turned into mush and you can't get up. you look him in the eyes. he feels bad. you can tell. "who the **** was she?" "what the hell is wrong with you" "no, don't touch me" "get the **** away" door slams. your eyes are blurry as you drive home.
9pm
17 unread messages. 9 missed calls. your pillow is your best friend. car pulls up. bedroom door opens. "I'm so sorry" "I love you" "I don't want to be with anyone else" "you mean more to me than her" "please" "I only want you" you look at him. take all of him in. his messy hair from raking his hands through it like he does when he's nervous. his tired grey eyes with beautiful long lashes. "leave"
11 pm
he left. you're sad. you don't believe you're good enough. you blame yourself. what did you do wrong? did you not care enough? did you not have enough ***? why did he have to go find someone else to fill his needs when you've been there this whole time?

1 year later
you went through some rough patches. got back with him 3 times. drank too much. secluded yourself. but then you stopped. he was just a boy. a boy you loved. but he was not your everything. he didn't give you your worth. he wasn't the reason you woke up every morning. making his life better wasn't what you were supposed to do. he's not your ******* sunshine. he's not your early morning coffee. or a hot shower after a long day. he's not a feel good movie or breakfast for dinner. he was a boy. a boy who took you for granted. a boy that made you reevaluate every **** day if you were good enough.

now you know. now you see your beauty. now you don't attach your being to someone else's. now you love yourself first.

Is it appropriate to mourn for something you only came close to losing? Because lately I've been stumbling through graveyards wondering why it's the only place I feel at home.
This isn't me saying that I want to attempt suicide again, but rather a way of me saying that I didn't survive the first time around.
I am merely a phantom of who I used to be.

once when i was 11 i read somewhere that you could fall in love with someone just by holding eye contact with them for a number of seconds. i cannot tell you how many hours i would spend in front of mirrors, staring down my reflection hoping to feel something other than my breath on cold glass.

you know the craziest thing to me when i was 12 was that i had never seen my face in person. i mean i'd seen myself in photographs, and i'd obviously saw myself in standing water, or mirrors, or when passing store windows but i had never looked myself in the face for real so maybe that was the problem.

when i was 13 i was in the eigth grade and some boy told me my kiss didnt taste sweet like it was supposed to so i stayed up all night perfecting the combination of chap-stick and lip gloss, and i made smudges all over my mother's make-up mirror in her bathroom, but it still wasnt enough so i left it shattered on the floor and never told her what happened

ages 14-18 i lived my life through glasses and tried so hard to be someone else that i lost sight of who i really was. because people dont want to hear about how you have daily staring contests with yourself, or how you always blink first. people dont want to watch the happiness disappear from your eyes, or see how your reality comes crawling up your throat and sits on your tongue waiting for it's chance to scream help, while your depression runs ramped, changing all of your picture captions to "ugly"

when i turned 19 broken glass and razors became my best friends, and lungs filled with smoke were like breaths of fresh air and i've never told anyone, but there were nights when i didnt come home because i couldnt remember where home was. they tell you that home is supposed to be this safe place where comfort can be found in your own skin, but i wasnt told that home is mirrors covered by sheets, and covering your eyes to anything that showed a reflection because i never quite figured out the trick of falling in love with myself the way everyone else apparently had

i hope that 20 is the year that something amazing finally happens in my chest when i look down at puddles and see myself staring back. i hope when i'm 20 that i'll be able to go through old pictures and not want to cry. i hope that 20 is the year that tolerating myself magically turns into loving myself. that i wont have to constantly replace shattered mirrors or picture frames. i hope the 20 year old version of me will finally be able to look herself in eyes and see more than what's missing. i hope when im 20 this poem wont hold relevancy and that my scars will be faded and the only thing left of this will be a success story

You are not the saying
"boys will be boys"
that is so often
casually tossed into your
mind.
You are not the compliment
that ends with
"....for a girl"
that is used
when you do something well.
You are not the length
of your skirt or
the amount of midriff showing.
You are not the catcalls
or whistles
thrown at you while
walking down the street.
You are not the number
of people you've kissed
or slept with.
You are not the tears
you cried when
your heart was broken.
You are not the "no"
that you yelled
at the top of your lungs
that the boy didn't
listen to.
You are not a *****
if you wear skirts
down to your ankles.
And you are not an object.
You are strong.
You are fearless.
You are powerful.
You are smart.
You are thoughtful.
**You are woman.