it's so surreal that at 12:19 a few months ago I would have been crying and complaining about how bad I have it and at 12:19 tonight I am probably the happiest I have ever been because I decided I should stop feeling sorry for my self and maybe actually enjoy life and there are tears streaming down my face as I type this but they're the happy kind i am so proud of how far I've gotten and how far im going to go i finally love myself and i am confident and oh my goodness i can't believe i'm where i am everything is so good

My name is Courtney. My favorite colors are black and white because that's how I see everything. I'm usually loud in places I should be quiet and quiet in places I should be loud. I usually laugh too much, and smile when I don't want to. I like to meet new people but I don't like having super close friendships.
I like being left alone, most days I never leave my room.
I'm a scorpio but to be honest I have no idea what that means.
I have an odd fascination with things like the ocean and lights and coffee.
I like temporary things and that's why I tend to love people who could never love me back.
Its safer that way. Relationships only remind me that I'm not afraid of spiders or heights or rollercoasters but I'm terrified of everything that can be felt but not seen.
I have a purple heart. I got it because I'm constantly beating myself up about things and people I can't fix or make better.
I always try to swallow my pride but I choke on the words I can't say and my self esteem drowns out anything and everything that could be good or right in my life. My self esteem hates anything that could ever get close enough to hear me breathe. My self esteem is so scared of anyone that could ever hurt me like when I was 8 years old living through world war 3 in the place I called home.
I never sleep in complete darkness because that forces my eyes to see nothing but only feel what I'm afraid of.
I can't read letters without them being proof read first. I'm always so afraid that it'll blood stained by someone I love saying goodbye.
I hate goodbyes. I hate leaving doors open because open doors eventually get shut and that closed door stings more than any tear that ever rolled down my cheek.
This sounds so weird, but I wonder what my demons say about me when I'm not around. I wonder if they laugh at my weakness. I wonder if they were there when my friend heard me throwing up my pain into the toilet in my school's bathroom. I wonder if they saw me try to rip out the happiness of every picture I saw the boy I loved and his new girl in.
I don't allow myself to cry as often as I need to. I don't let myself grieve. I don't allow anyone to know anything about the first 13 years of my life. Because I know once I open that door, they will be scared of such a damaged me, that they will close it before I finish the story.
I do believe in God. I believe he didn't save me. I believe I've had to save myself all these years until I let him save me.
I'm Courtney. Nice to meet you.

Depressed People Have Best Friends Too
I don’t think that people comprehend
That there are days when my bed is my best friend.
She holds me snuggled in her blanket arms and doesn’t
Mind that the night before, I was punching her mattress stomach
And crying onto her pillow shoulders.
The days when my black curtains make it harder to pull
Myself away from her full size body because they’re
Shielding me from the sun are some of my favorite days to spend
Staring at the ceiling until I’m too tired from doing nothing.
2:00 in the afternoon feels like 2:00 in the morning.
Sleep comes easier behind the daylight after silently sobbing
To my bed the night before while the rest of the world
Slept peacefully.
I’ve found that the brisk breeze outside often punches me in the face
And the spring dandelions, summer heat, autumn leaves, and
Innocent white snow kicks me in my ribs when I’m already down.
Each morning, I cautiously leave my bed and all around me
It seems that people are throwing daggers at me with their eyes,
Whisper spitting poison from their lips.
The pain is simply too much.
Staying in bed, wrapped in the comfort of blanket arms
Holding me while I sleep away the hurt is easier.

I came to the pavilion of the big cats
And in the center was a palace ruin,
The walls were stone and feeble mortar,
The great, golden monarch was the lion.

With wisdom eyes, he gazed upon me,
I lowered my head as was my station,
He did not move, nor deign to care,
In His royal chamber I was under thrown.

I thought, you are caught my over lord,
But his stance said, these bars are scepter
And I heard him say with a long lost roar,
'Hear my horn, I am he, the storm of Jericho.'

In the palace of the mighty, indifferent, king
His thundering voice crackled the lambing
Stables and even heaven closed under ceiling
Dome and I was caged when the walls fell away
And the whole, blown world, remade— a zoo.