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Shae Mar 2015
The cut of a blade
A little more guilt, a little more pain – let go
Red meets skin
The things I shouldn't have said,
Things I didn't say,
The things you kept saying,
The things I'll never say,
Not to bring a smile to your tears or mine
Can't be this weak person anymore

The look in your eyes
Always there in the back of my mind
Urging me forward, keeping my legs, my mind, running
The fear in your voice
Repeating in my ear
A song on loop
The way your voice cracked when you whispered my name
Makes me run faster
My legs hitting the ground as hard as I know I hit you

The music bursting from the speakers in my room
My head on my pillow
Staring at the flowers I put on my ceiling – something pretty
The voices still there
Yours, mixing with the ones in my head; the one on my shoulder
I try to hear the lyrics
Words that I know by heart, but aren't mine
Putting words to emotions I won't admit to
The music gets louder
The voices stay

The ways I think to cope
Make you feel better
Can't take your sad eyes
Took your hand
Pulled you close
Sorry I fell asleep
Can’t escape the night
Put you in the middle
Thought that maybe I could sleep through one night
Not a chance

Pretend I understand
Life is fragile
Life is hard
Contradicting itself
I had so much to lose
Let it go
All things change
It just works this way

Writing never matters
Getting the thoughts out of my head
And on a piece of paper, a napkin, anything
The words written and glaring at back at me
Everything I never want to be voiced or seen
The match meets paper
I watch the words burn,
Burned in my mind, on loop in my ear
The paper turns to ashes, but the words will always be there
Shae Jul 2014
Good and bad come and go, but we’re all just dying.
So is it worth it to hate? To love?
Is living a prize or a punishment?
I fear is that there’s no escape – even suicide can’t ensure that the cycle will end.
Is this torture or virtue?
Is it even worth it to find out?
Does it matter? And if it doesn't?
Is this life or is this death?
Is the glass still there, because I can’t decide if it’s half empty or half full?
Will my life always symbolize a void – same as every other person on this earth?
Do I mean something or am I lifting others to the top of this metaphoric pyramid?
Will I ever find out? Would it change anything?
Is it bad to change or stay the same?
Are we living to die or dying to live?
Are we doing this wrong?
Am I thinking too much or not thinking enough?
Do I scare too easily or not enough?
Am I enough or not even close?
I fear that I will live my life dying.
Shae Jun 2014
I wrote this soon after I had a panic attack at a party. I am a person that sometimes I can live and genuinely give no ***** about anything - myself included. But sometimes my thoughts would **** me all at once and I would have panic attacks. This is what happened and when I think of this day, I think of how scared and sad I was. I always let the love my sister showed me overshadow the fear because no, love didn't cure me, but it taught me. It showed me where to channel my value and that it's okay to show weakness to people that love you enough to be strong for you when you can't do it alone.

1 – The act itself is embarrassing enough;
         spazzing out,
         rocking in place,
         tears on your cheeks,
         heavy, uneven breathing,
         face so pale they almost call an ambulance

2 – Now they've seen you at your weakest; your lowest low
And you can't undo it, you just hope it ends soon – then you freak out more, because you still can't breathe

3 – They know now, that you actually do care. And when you try to feign indifference in the future – if you don’t die on this nasty floor tonight – they'll know it's fake
     They have that power; that knowledge that they can do something to effect you
      That literally leaves you shaking

4 – When you finally start to breathe again
They ask what happened and are you okay and does this happen often
      you can't even talk,
         because of the panic attack itself,
         your effort to not mess up your breathing again,
         your shock that people know that you can be shattered,
         your ability to come back to reality is completely ******,
and you just take in your surroundings,
  counting how many people saw, not meeting their eyes

5 – When you finally come to, and realize that it's not a nightmare, it's your life, you just sit there and shake – with your head between your knees, silent tears mix with the ones from your fear of dying, your hands hug your knees, so that no one sees then tremble

6 – You try to zone out what the people are saying around you, suddenly realizing  *just
how many people witnessed your breaking point,
but it's hard when they don't even try to be subtle

7 – When someone offers you a glass of water, you wipe your face on your knees, trying not to be totally obvious, but when you grab the cup, your hands shake so much that most of the water ends up in your lap

8 – You sip your water, choking from your dry throat, but not coughing so that they don't stare even more

9 – Every sound is at a max volume, but in a tunnel
You hear them laugh, some tsk with pity, others try to steer the conversation to something else,
    out of kindness or selfishness, you'll never know, don't really care

10 – When you feel okay enough to stand, you finally look up, trying not to stare, but trying to remember all who saw
       In your head, you're embarrassed, but you don’t feel your cheeks heat
          Probably because you barely even have enough energy to breathe

11 – When you meet their eyes, most are filled with pity and sympathy, you look away quickly, your breathing already accelerated, moving on to the next set of eyes

12 – You come across eyes that looks taunting, paired with a knowing smirk
You square your shoulders as best you can, take a deep breath, telling yourself
              I may be weak in the anxiety- sense, but they’re weak minded in every sense

13 – You see some with understanding, you do a double take, sure that your mind is fooling you, but sure enough, they're oozing pity, but also empathy
You stare longer, but they turn away.

14 - You see another with anger, guess I ruined their night too, quickly passing them

15 – In your head, you chaste yourself for even looking into their eyes
        You knew what would be there, but you looked anyway
              Isn't that what got you into this position in the first place?

16 – You head for the exit, the attention seemingly off of you
You turn the door **** and step outside, walk to the road, finally finding your car
You get behind the wheel and realize your hands are still shaking, your breathing is uneven, you still haven't spoken, and your vision isn't only clouded, it's closing in with black dots

17 – You realize you've been hold your breath, so you drag in a strained breath, and your head falls to the stewarding wheel
      You don't move, but you realize that you can't drive
          You shouldn't drive

18 – Your sister pops into your head first, so you call her
Your voice quivers in the phone, but she doesn't ask many questions;
    Just where and an okay

19 – She finds you and puts you in her car, but you don't really remember doing that
   She blasts the heat and heads home
     You stay quiet, too embarrassed to even say thank you.
        You hang your head and close your eyes.

20 – You get home; she holds your elbow as you walk inside because you’re wobbly
You lay on the couch, tears all dried now, but the persistent lump in your throat is still there
She brings you mint chocolate chip ice cream – your favorite
She doesn't talk as you both dig in
   You finally look up at her, wanting to say thank you, but the lump won’t let you

21 – She doesn't look at you with understanding, anger, or pity, sympathy, or annoyance – nothing like the eyes before
She looks at you, same as she did the day before;
love with a hint of tiredness around the edges,
    but not tiredness at you, at the god awful hour and day of the week

22 – You try to smile, but it probably looks like a seizure is happening on your mouth
She doesn't laugh at you
   Just reaches over, tugs on a piece of your hair and says, "you're hair looks pretty. Wanna watch Tom & Jerry?"

23 – You breathe
If I always have my sister, mint-chocolate-chip ice cream, and Tom & Jerry, I'll always be okay.
  Jun 2014 Shae
Who the **** was I?
And who the **** am I?
In a tree, on a limb, suspended
on the thin green twig
from the hands of the old gods,
let fall to smack
every fat
branch on the way down.
Penniless and unpretty,
useless and sometimes silly,
sometimes a little bit clever,
sometimes a listener
sometimes performs well,
tricks, no old dog, new *****,
forgotten in the bottom drawer
every seam of that old life unpicked
everything we stitched
torn up, cut up, ripped.
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