Some days I wake up
                                                                  Mind torn from    
                                                           stress dreams
                                                                And no desire to breakdown
                                                                             On campus.
                                                                  So I skip class.
                                                        Trapped in my mental jailcell
                                                I dissect my compulsive thoughts
                                                      Only to see they stitched
                                                               Themselves back together
                                                             And are resistant to leave.
                                          On days I can grasp and hold my will
                                                                           I stew in class
                                                     Noticing my classmates
                                        Who speak louder than I do,
                                        Who answer questions more eloquently,
                                        And speak science fluently,
                                                               I am left to boil in my
                                                 Lack of voice, skill, and knowledge.
                                                             At the end of my first class
                                                                   I am already overdone,
                                             A husk goes to the remaining classes
                                                                                 For me.
                                                                     On days I wake up
                                                                                     Already
                                                                                  overwhelmed
                                                                        I skip class
                                                                                  To avoid
                                                                                                   Meltdown
                                                                      Fighting fire with Magma,
                                                                                this technique is
                                                                     purely self-destructive.
                                                                                           And I know it.
                                        Pressure builds like a volatile volcano…
                                                      I FAIL my classes and ERUPT
                                                   The peak that is my self esteem
                                      Shattered by emails from professors,
                                           The lava oozes down the slopes of Mt. Me
                                               “Maybe I don’t Belong  Here”
                                     Starts the a nearby tsunami forming
                                                                      Underneath my scalp
                                                           It gathers speed and force.
                                                           It decimates the cerebrum.
                                                                                       I have to rebuild...
                                              This land is recycled often
                       Tremors with magnitudes that match
                                                        My GPA
                                            Keep me vigilant and mindful
                                                               that collapse is part
                                                                       Of my nature                   The complex societies that are rebuilt within my mind always thrive
                                              ….at the beginning of next semester.

Some days, being me is a burden.
Not onto others, but onto myself.
Those around me do not respect me.
But when they seek memories of better times,
I will be the one they ask to speak.

Education was a tool intent on developing me,
instead it became the ropes that bind me to my family.
These ropes latch me to a home I have outgrown,
but no one allows me to leave.

Instead of vindication
I have found desperation.
Those who know me speak fondly
of my aspirations, but do not realize
that their praise weighs more than,
the stone god was unable to budge.

I lie to you -
true agony is not shelved upon by others,
it is the listless illusions I pander to myself.
The ambitiousness of decision making
and feeling that any course directed by my own hand
will end wastefully.

Have I made a mistake?
Did I ignore my instinct?
Or have my thoughts just simply taken over?

A question I’ve pondered
A truth that I fear
Is ignorance truly bliss?

Masked resilience
Hopeful lies I tell
Ones I secretly wish to believe

Attempts I’ve made
To fill such fears
Only left creating more

Should I have taken the risk?
Is this regret I feel ?
Am I a visitor in my new home?

Sitting on her dorm room bed
Three feet from the floor
Not quite happy
But not quite sad
She wants to feel the ache in her bones
The hatred she has for herself
She wants that to come back
she doesn’t want to feel ok
Cause she’s not
Trying to make that decision
To walkout in the middle of the night
While her room mate sleeps
And to never come back
She’s ok right now
But she wants that sadness
The depression to fill her bones
She wishes she could pull the metaphorical trigger
And not live
Oh how she aches
To just want to not be ok anymore
Because when you’re not ok
You feel alive
Or at least she does
It’s terrible beast
She hates when she’s ok but hates when she’s sad
She just wishes she could not exist
That would be her ultimate goal
She types this in the dark as her roommate drifts off to sleep
I know cause that girl is me

Growth.
Going, you know that you have gone.
Walking clockwise around yourself
I’ve learned that I know nothing
Other than that sometimes you don’t need to know

You need to know calculus and how to sing in 2 different languages
You need to know how to dress business casual and shake hands and beam people with your smile

But when do we learn how to comfort ourselves
Comfort found without the BPA of anything above a 0.8
Who taught us that hearts beating fast will become familiar.
Warm, even

Dear Room,

You have been pink
You have been blue
And yellow, then pink again
I even drew Whinnie the poo

And now you're white
With one wall blue
And I have loved 15 years with you

Soon another little girl may burst in
With different color to choose
But I will always remember
That you were me, and I was you

i’m twenty and my favorite color is lavender and
i'm espresso mixed with honey, talking very fast,
absorbing it so slowly
piling books in the corner and boys by my feet
without meaning to
sunburnt and wads of tissues in backpacks and utterly confused at the concept of god/ raised by a catholic and an atheist,
i’ll always say,
with a laugh, dainty head tilt on a date another hand on a thigh and another prayer that i won’t feel that crushing guilt in the morning like
i usually do
because i have yet to learn otherwise and i’m sure there’s something somewhere inside me? outside maybe inside probably can’t sit still so
i chopped my hair again and i think i’m cured!
until i get stuck in traffic on i-87 and i call my dad to tell him i got my nose pierced and he says,
what? and it closes up anyway on that trip to salem where i put my headphones in and walked very quickly away from you
and the guilt the things i won't feel pile up
i’m a block of lead you can’t get me off of the floor wasn’t i healed?
didn’t i do this? this isn’t a curved line this is a pit and i’m in it and
please leave me here please don’t leave me i’m getting better i swear
but i don’t know when but at least there’s a will to live now and
i’m googling colorado again do you think i’ll be more of a light there?
could you turn the light on?