am i really
who i think i am ?
am i really
who i've been told i am?
am i really
who i've been made to be?
am i bound to who
they perceive me as?
or can i be expressed
in a different form ?
i want to be alive, but i feel
trapped in who i am
it doesn't sit right with me
but who i think i am
doesn't sit right with them
i am human .
i am she .
i am they .
i am who i am .
but i am not bound to
how i am traditionally
perceived .

In my brief life
I have amassed more years
Than moments
Where I felt
Alive.

I slept in a little too late
a few days that week.

when the pharmacist called
about my prescriptions,
I didn't refill them
for the next month.

I forgot to eat breakfast
and maybe lunch
and I didn't remember
whether or not I ate dinner.

I didn't buckle my seatbelt
when I got into my car.

I didn't show up
when we made plans,
and eventually I stopped
making plans altogether.

I stopped joking about suicide
and you thought that
was a good sign,

but you didn't realize
I stopped joking
because this time,
I was serious.

when I hung up the phone
I said "goodbye"
instead of "goodnight."

and no one tried to stop me
because no one knew

because all of these little changes
seemed to mean nothing.

you didn't see
that I was hurting
until the tiles on
our bathroom floor
turned red.

you didn't see
that I was bleeding
until I had already bled out.

but on that day,
my story did not end.
my funeral was not
that weekend.
my death was not
on that Wednesday.



and now,
when I end the call,
I don't say "goodbye."

I never say "goodbye"
because tomorrow,
I will still be here.

even when it hurts
to simply get out of bed,
I will be here.

I will be here
because I am still breathing.
I am still alive

and there are so many
beautiful Wednesdays
that I haven't seen yet.

I don’t know if I feel happy anymore,
but sometimes I don’t feel numb
and I call that happiness.
it’s more peace than happiness.
it’s more of a relief.
in these moments, I feel something
and I know that I’m still alive.
I must be alive
if I can still feel
…right?

when I get asked about my scars
and how I could possibly do something
so cruel to myself,
I want to say that
when I did it,
it wasn’t cruel.
I wasn’t trying to die.
I was trying to remind myself
that I’m not dead yet.

I’m a writer.
I’m supposed to be good with words,
and I am.
so why can’t I tell you how
I’m really doing?
why do I keep saying “I’m fine”
when I’m anything but fine?
why can’t I find the words to express
this feeling?

no,
it’s not a feeling.
it’s the lack of a feeling.

I haven’t learned
how to explain this yet.
I’ve spent years leaving and entering
this numbness,
over and over.
I think I’ve spent more time in it
than out of it.

I didn’t learn much, but
now I know that

the only thing worse
than feeling pain
is feeling nothing.

Hey. I know it hasn't been easy for you lately. It never was.
You feel alone in the darkness.
You feel lost. It hurt's.
You are tired. Tired of fighting in battles.
Fighting to do new things, and improve yourself.
Many wounds did not recovered yet.
Yet you are still here,
Fighting in the middle of the battle in your life.
Maybe it is one of the battles that will decide your fate,
Who knows.
I know that you don't get the rest and happiness you want.
That people don't even seem to help you.
They just judge you.

But may I tell you something. Who are they?!
Who are they, to tell you that you can't, that you are bad,
that you should change?! Who are they?
You have been in war for so long that it became your home.
There is no silence, rest, and happiness.
But you still have the goal and destination.
You still can have a piece of art, poetry, beauty, and love.

Maybe it's not so much to enjoy,
maybe not every day is sunny and beautiful and filled with love.
But yet there is something, that makes you feel alive.

I know it's hard sometimes, it seems like it will never change.
You are tired, exhausted, sad, broken, hurt, lost, alone, in pain.
I am not going to make the pain, problem, or bad things go away.
But I am here because somehow the World, God, or the Universe wanted you to read this.
It was a part of your life, maybe not a big one, but at least it is there, it always was there for you, waiting in silence.
Waiting for you to fall down on your knees and cry out loud.

Now listen to me,
Listen carefully. Be brave, be strong, be happy, be smart, be alive.

Take the heavy sword that is covered with dirt and with your own blood.
Take it up, that heavy, strong sword to protect yourself and to win the battle.
Look around,
There are so many kind people who love and care about you.
There are so many beautiful landscapes and places that are waiting to be discovered by you.
And the most important, your destination. It is waiting for you.

So soldier, are we retreating, or shall we try and survive this battle, maybe even win it.
Your commands?

A leaf drifting thousand miles,
against the wind, it live.
A mountain stood arrogantly,
against the withering time, it live.
Therefore, those who persist are alive,
the dead dare not struggle.
Struggling is life, persisting is life,
but life is not struggling or persisting.