Death by fire.* The skin melting off of my bones and the smoke choking my throat and holding me down, my screams unheard of by those outside and seeing the dance of fire around my charcoaled bones.
Never knowing truth. Never understanding why I am here and what God wants me to do, to have him laugh in my face saying "You were always wrong!" Even when I thought he said it was in His plan, not ever fully understanding the ways of the universe that He so graciously let me explore.
Relapse. Becoming so sad again that I throw away almost a whole year of becoming who I am to succumbing to the hellish act of cutting open my wrist to see the blood flow from my body and to let the demons out again. To feel the sting, wait, numbness of it all.
Him touching me again. Never being able to say no. Feeling the touch of his sweaty palms around my waist, his fingertips making trails down my spine to my bare bottom, feeling parts of me that do *not belong to him.
Nobody believing me  Everyone telling me that I am a liar again, that I made it all up for attention and to break my family apart because I was "jealous" and I was "overreacting".
Losing her.  She can easily have any boy she wants, even other girls like her. I can lose her so easily, she's so beautiful. People constantly flirt with her, temping her to be theirs. But I am just me, and I feel like I am not enough, because she is everything, and I am nothing. No matter how dominating I am, I will always submit myself to her, because I belong to her. She can't leave me. I am hers.
Not getting into UC Berkeley.  I know I am not good enough, but I try to be my best. I try to get good grades and keep myself busy. I do not just want to attend this school, I need to be a part of this school because if I do not, then who would I be? All of my life's work would be thrown away and I would be feel hopeless, useless, and undeniably a failure. If I do not get accepted then I know I will never accept myself.
Going insane. I've seen these faces before, in the corner of my eye, hearing manic laughs within my mind, voices not there and things that run amuck. They are not there. They are not there. but oh! how they truly are sometimes. I just hope that they are not real.
Her taking her own life. Sometimes I feel like I do not help her at all. I can feel her sadness starting to creep back up on her again, wanting to take her and swallow her whole. I try so hard to help, but who I am to do that? I am powerless, I am weak. She is the strong one, not me. But oh, how sometimes even she succumbs to Deaths somber friend, Depression.
My parents finding out before the time we wish. Everything would die if they found out, they would extinguish our love so quick and **** everything that ever led to us being in love. If they found out, I wouldn't be myself anymore, I would lose the part of me that made me feel whole, I would lose the part of myself that I never knew that I was missing, I would fall apart, I wouldn't want to live anymore. What am I without you? Maybe life could happen again, and maybe we could find each other in the future when we are out of our parents hold, but that does not mean we would still be in love with each other. We would just be ghosts of each other's pasts, haunting each other throughout each other's lives and making us each feel so alone. Who would I be without you?
Last but not least, myself. I can easily do so much damage to everyone around me. I have hurt my love before, and my best friend, and my parents, and everyone else. I am my own worst enemy, and I can destroy everything that lives. I fear that I am constantly on self destruct without my love, that I am already dead and wishing to **** everything due to my unhappiness. Only love can cure the dead in heart.

She looked at her blades,
Than looked at her wrist...
She missed that feeling,
But her scars were healing.
She wanted to stay strong,
But i's  been so long...
She put the blade on her wrist,
And than made her hands into a fists...
She dropped the blade,
And began to cry..
She couldn't believe how long it's been,
Since she felt those blades cutting her self.....
She should be so proud,
But voices in her head got so loud...
She sat there in pain,
Because she knew she was  going insane!!!

To the kid in the hallway telling his friend
"Maybe you need a **** whistle."
And to her response, a sarcastic
"Matt, **** jokes aren't funny."
You're **** right they aren't
Tell me, how is anyone forcing themself onto another person funny?
How are the I don't want tos when her "no" couldn't scream loud enough funny?
How are the ****** thighs and bruised hips funny?
How is the waking up in the middle of the night
How are the flashbacks and her wailing funny?
How is the seven year-old who had so much anxiety she'd tear her hair out
Or a sixteen year-old who kept eyeliner and a kitchen knife side by side in her purse funny?
It's about as funny as a slaughterhouse full of pigs taunting the other pigs
And telling them their approaching doomsday is amusing.
I dug my key into the palm of my hand like a knife when I heard this jeer
Clenching and unclenching a fist
Because I knew if I did not
That hand would go right through your faces.
You do not know the impact of your words
You see, for a survivor
Jokes about ****** assault are triggers.
They bring back every memory
Which becomes a stinging tear behind an eyeball
Fighting not to emerge from its home.
When I say something
Classically I am being "too sensitive"
Just as I was "too sensitive"
When he told me to get on top of him
And I said no
So much courage mustered up in a little body
I could have moved mountains that day
I could have been my own goddess
At seven years old
But he did not care
He was bigger than me
And he imposed that will onto my body
Reducing my childlike frame to the size of a fly
Being swatted by the paw of a lion.
I will not be silent
So when you tell a **** joke and I am in earshot
Do not expect me to laugh
Because there is nothing funny about a slaughterhouse.