I'm a liar.
I've been pretending this whole time, and it's a shame that no one notices.
I am sad again, and terribly lost.
I hate eating. I hate being this, being me.
I want to go back to my support at the program, I want to leave this ugly real world
and go back.
I want daily meetings and supervision. I want to feel special and important
I want to be happy.
and I'm just not.
No one notices;
not my boyfriend who's been out all night partying with his friends.
not my bestfriend who just left to Cabo.
not my mom who hasn't spoken to me in days.
not my ownself who's going ******* insane.
I need someone, anybody, everybody.
I'm alone and I hate it.
I hate every ******* thing.

**is it too much to want to be loved?

The only thing I feel nowadays
Is empty
The last butterfly in my stomach
Flew away
Or died
Either way they're gone
I no longer feel
The blade going across my arms

The sharp pain
Followed by a burning sensation
I guess 'empty' is better than
Depressed
Suicidal
Hopeless
Alone
Worthless
Tired
And scared
But it sure as hell Isn't better than
Happy

Your words
Hurt more
Than the pain
That drips from my wrists

The physical scars
Will heal
But your words
Leave indefinite marks
On my heart

I think that
What hurts most
Is that you don't notice
My tear-soaked sleeves
And the gray in my eyes

Her blank canvas
Empty, but promising
To become something good

But her masterpiece took an evil turn

She used only one tool
Strokes of only deep reds
Letting the paint drop to the floor
Where it would then stain

She hid her canvas
Until the deep reds had faded to pinks and purples

Then she unveiled it to the world

It wasn't a masterpiece.
It wasn't a piece of art.
It wasn't beautiful.

It was ugly.
It was disgusting.
It was horrific.

No one liked it.
Except for her.
So she decided to continue filling the canvas

This time experimenting
Different tools
Yet still the only color she used was red

She went days
Weeks
Months
Years
Adding to her canvas
Until one day

She couldn't

Her canvas no longer meant anything to her

So instead, she burned it

I used to love all of the drama
all of the *******
I was never a part of it
always off in the corner
watching,
observing,
unknown
the "struggles" my friends encountered
"My boyfriend is a ******"
oh no, please tell me more,
"He likes other girls"
you don't say
"My best friend didn't pay,
for the **** I loaned him"
what a *****
you should probably fight him
go ahead,
feed me what I need,
I won't tell
I have always been best at
being a blank canvas