Walking through the quiet halls I see a silhouette of what could be
And of what used to be
There are no blankets to pull over us
But I lay here tangled in cotton and plush
in this darkness of your absence
A few footsteps
A few miles away from me
Feels like the longest of journeys
With my heart racing and my palms growing warm
I wish I could put this to rest
I haven't slept in a while
But I will still turn off the lights for you.

I began my life in this house when I was only 4 years old
Just barely old enough to remember painting the walls space blue, adding the constellations to my new world
Just barely old enough to remember my brother and I fighting over the top bunk
That ended up giving me nose bleeds from the ceiling heat
As I grew I can remember our 12 inch TV
I can remember watching Jurassic Park on VHS practically religiously
I recall nightmares, and sneaky late nights watching Cartoon Network in near silence.

I was in middle school, and no longer wanted to share my room with my older brother
My parents, unable to afford a bigger house with more than but two bedrooms, created a nook for my now grown brother to live in, with nothing but make-shift walls
Leaving me alone in this room I'd grown up in
I remember being unable to sleep that first night by myself, even if my brother had been right across the house.

I was in highschool and I started having boys and friends over
I started receiving noise warnings late at night from my overworked and underpaid parents after a bout of laughter

I started becoming depressed.
My room, still painted space blue became a black hole
As I laid in my bed all night long, never once blinking
Never once flinching against the pain eating away at my stomach like a parasite
Until it became nearly impossible to bare any longer.

I started seeing my therapist and she saved the life of an afraid 15 year old
The posters in my room turned into images of bands from generation's passed
The blood washed away and I could sleep in my bed again.

I was 16 years old and infatuated with a boy until he touched me the wrong way
And it stained my childhood bed, once the bottom bunk
Which quickly went from a twin to an untouched queen.

I was 18 years old and afraid of living within these four walls my whole life.
The space blue paint taunted me every time I stepped through the old splintery door
My best friend and I painted the walls the color of sunshine in one night in hopes to erase the bad dreams and even worse realities lived here.

I am 20 years old and in a few days I am moving into a new room, into a new home of my own
Away from the warm bathtub that held me when I was ill.
Away from my loving mother who ran her finger through my hair as I cried.
Away from my father and his drunken snores every night in front of a silent television.
Away from my brother and his passionate new discoveries often shared with me.
Away from the stove that helped me create comforting meals that nourished my body for 16 years.

And I am afraid.

A tablet that is first sweet dissolves on my tongue in hopes that it relieves the feeling of stomach bile rising to my throat.
And as I step into the shower, drool dribbling down my slack chin, it leaves a bitter, almost intolerable taste in my mouth.
My head against the shower wall I’m unable to even wash my own body tonight, the thought of moving my arms to grab the body wash is insurmountable.
Catatonic, my pain turns me into a vegetable, only able to speak few words at a time like a toddler who has just learned to talk.
Afraid of the fluorescent lights as I sit on a thin piece of paper
All for a man in a white coat to prescribe me another pill to create a new sickness in me.
Sleep no longer an escape, for when I wake the stiffness pounds away mercilessly against my skull even more so, like a construction worker with a jack hammer tearing apart pieces of cement.
My skull is splitting in two day by day by day until it can no longer contain me
Maybe then I will find relief
I can only hope so.

Here I am, 20 years of age
Still unable to enjoy a beer in a public place
Yet I sit in my best friend's apartment on a Friday night
The glow of the city life shining on me through the singular window
And in my quietness I hear the banter of people likely having lived longer than I
Drunkly sauntering in the cold
And I think I should be envious of their openness
Of their still fully sound youth
But then I realize that my preference to simply observe from afar
Is not of my own fault
But of the people and substances who took my youth away
And it died far too young.

It is a sunny day in this new world
The sun covers me and the fluorescent green of grass
Perfectly trimmed, perfectly tickling my bare legs
Into focus is the sound of boys speaking
And the outlines of bodies sitting beside me fade in and out
These are my friends, I think
And I'm suddenly very aware that they are boys
And I am not.
As many get up to leave, I'm not sure why I don't follow
Laying on my side I feel as if I could sleep within this dream
Within the warmth of this star
As I realize the presence of someone behind me
Strangers hands all over my body
A faceless perpetrator
Re-enacting the emission of a very specific kind of disgust
I've found often in my waking life
Rubbing this slime that oozes from his hands
All over my unwilling body
This time I try to yell Stop
But I can only whisper this opposition
But atleast this time
I tried.

i want to fill everyone's cups
but i cannot accept any return of the favor
a pitcher only half way full
accidentally spilling more and more
tripping over people along the way
to being empty

I boil and bubble over my clothes like steam over a cauldron
Cooking up a dreadful brew
At times unaware,  at times I am still in the body of a 16 year old
At war with her mind and body
Bones almost audibly creaking with each gust of wind
And although the world wasn’t kind to me all of those years ago
And although I wasn’t kind to me
And although older boys snarled their teeth at my protruding rib cages and hip bones hungry for a snack
I’d do anything
To get my body back

And boy, if they didn’t gnaw away at my skin and flesh
I may have been left with my beautifully rigid shell
But my insides are spilling out in soft rolls
Reflections making my head spin, the spinning of the clock, the new looseness of my exterior, my own hell
Maybe if I could do a spell I could tell the goddess how my body once fell at the hands of the Devil and it began to swell like a balloon and I’m waiting for it to pop
I’m waiting for it stop
And hopefully then
I will no longer dwell
On how much I hate a body
That holds me so well