I'm thankful for the alcohol in my blood and the smoke in my lungs.

I would love to say that I am a happy teenage girl
and that I've never drank
and that I've never done drugs
and that I have impeccable grades
and that I have a great relationship with my parents
and that I love my friends
and that I love to see the sun come up
and that I've never hurt myself
and that I've never smoked a cigarette
and that I've never been with boys much older than me.
But I would really love if someone asked me, really asked me, what was wrong.

I am a beautiful fairy who should be flying around and sleeping on flower petals but instead I am stuck. I am a breathing coffin in the shape of a girl. I am a bird without wings, a Lamborghini out of gas.
I am stuck.

fireplace glowing
father drinking
mother crying
children huddling

I read to isolate my mind from everything around me. I read to run away from my thoughts.

But I've found that no matter how occupied I am with words from a book, my thoughts still seem to catch up with me. I can't escape.

the unbearable frustration
due to everyone's lack of understanding
of me
of my mind
and how it work
no one understands

nights like these
I would **** to be in your messy bed
smokin a J
talking about anything and everything
my darling