It's really wanting to do things but not being able to
because all your energy has seeped down a drain
and you don't really care about anything
because everything is pointless
but you know that after you receive your marks,
you’ll cut again,
It's seeing the light beam and stretching out to hold it...
But it's too far away for your arms to reach,
It’s thinking that suicide is the kindest thing you could do for yourself
because life is just plain painful,
It's knowing how colorful the world is
but your eyes have been covered by a pair of grey glasses
that is glued to your face so you can't ever take it off nor see life’s colors,
It’s wanting to swim but telling your parents you don’t want to
just for the sake of them not seeing all the scars down your arm and thigh.
And later on? Even though I would love to swim, cutting is just too addicting to stop,
It's wanting to live and enjoy every moment to it's fullest
but your kaleidoscope has been broken by your own mind,
It’s using food to make you happy but hating how much weight
you're gaining so the self hate and self-harm never ends,
It's faking your smiles because if you didn't,
you'd be too negative for people to handle
which would then make them leave you... Abandon you,
It's wanting to lose hope so you could finally commit suicide
but at the same time it's hoping that you'll be okay one day,
It's wanting to scream how hurt you are
but finding no use in letting other people know
because you'll continue feeling the same way everyday anyways,
It’s hiding all your scars all the time so no one
would be able to stop you, pity you, or spread the word,
It's hating yourself so much that the amount of hate
you have towards yourself is suffocating you
and you can't ever love yourself because it's simply impossible,
It's wanting to punish yourself for everything bad you've ever done
by giving yourself a death sentence and scars
that just feel too heavenly to ever stop self-harm once it has started,
It’s being trapped inside your head with a bully
that endlessly torments you and your existence,
telling you how worthless you really are,
It’s being on the edge of impulsively killing yourself
almost everyday but at the same time,
you simply smile, sit and read a book
as though everything is completely fine,
It’s being always absent minded until
your parents have nicknamed you “absent minded”
because of how difficult it is for your to concentrate
or live in the present because you’re always someplace else,
It’s feeling that not cutting yourself is simply wrong
while trying to stay clean because you need to punish yourself
and it’s unfair if you don’t get punished for something wrong you've done,
It’s not being able to tell the “heart monster”
who’s squeezing your beating organ like a wet towel
in the palm of its sadistic deathly black hands to stop.
So it continues draining the blood and energy
out of your drumming broken holes
and whenever you’re feel fine,
it takes a shovel and digs out your sleeping heart
from its disturbed grave of a breathless chest
and repeats the torture process until you start wishing
you could just drown in your river of tears.
It’s wondering if you really want to chase your old dreams
because you don’t really care about them anymore.
It’s crying on little things and shocking your family
because that incident wasn’t really upsetting
and the tears fell only because you’ve been holding in the pain for days
and weren't able to keep it inside.
And if you were able to keep it inside a bit longer
then you would’ve waited until nighttime when they’re all asleep to break down.
It’s feeling guilty that you feel this way because others have it worse.
It’s also crying in school washrooms and coming out all smiley.
It’s feeling so numb that you just need to feel anything,
anything at all and guess what?
The blade comes to the rescue as usual and the pain it causes
feels incredible that you’ll find myself panting and needing more.
It’s being afraid of being happy because whenever you’re actually happy,
you’ll forget how depression feels like for awhile
and think that you’re finally okay…
But in awhile despondency creeps in and you'll find yourself
crying again before getting used to the feeling.
It’s feeling as empty as an oyster
that had it's pearl stolen
by blind eyes that needed your sight
and so now you’re blind to the light.
It’s being grateful for these brief fleeting moments of happiness
when the grey fog lifts and you realize that life isn’t that painful
and that everything will be okay because life is just rearranging its destinations.
It’s regretting not jumping off that cliff
or not slitting your wrist that day you almost did
and hating yourself so much for not dying.
For not letting go of all the agony and misery.
I wish I let myself go when I wasn’t thinking straight.
At first, it feels like being drunk on darkness
and as soon as you’d awoken from the previous night’s sleep,
you’d wonder what had happened to you?
Why were you thinking in such ways?
It was very grey.
But later a few months later…
Sleep does not ensure your sobriety in the morning
for you have lost all the world’s colours
due to dripping off a bit of color from your eyesight everyday
and so now the world has turned completely grey…
Hence you continue to awake everyday
drunk on the pain of the night before.
It's wishing you were never born in the first place.
And others can't understand why.
These words will never truly explain how painful depression is...
I can't even explain how lifeless depression can make a person feel.
It really does look like suicide is the best option.
Let me explain:
Deaths is as sweet as chocolate and Life's as spicy as chilli.
But if I love chilli, why do I want Death?
It’s because of how I ask for sweets when I'm sad
and this sadness seems to be going on for eternity.
Now do you understand why I want to die?
I Hope so.
And you might be wondering why I got addicted to self-harm
and it’s because I don’t only use it as a coping mechanism,
but also as a punishment because if I don’t hurt myself
then the guilt will follow me for days until I do it.
Self-harm can also be used as a motivational treat (It gives me a high)
for example telling myself that if I finish this chapter,
I'll get another cut and no I can’t use any other candy
because it does not feels as heavenly and relieving as cutting.
Self-harm can also simply act as a sexual release…
Maybe you don't get it but I’m a bit of a masochist.
Self-harm is like cake for me and you wouldn’t stop eating cake for life
just because it’s unhealthy!
No, you would continue eating it at least on special occasions.
Self-harm was my way of living for a year and I find it unrealistic to stop for life.
I wish you'd understand but I'd never wish for you to feel the same as I do.
And not every one struggling with depression feels the same.
This is my definition of depression.
But you know what?
I can't even explain how other people's depression feels like.
Depression: A disease that slowly kills your sanity just to enjoy watch you lose.
She had the sun in her hands,
The moon in her heart,
A sparkle in her eyes,
And gold in her arms.
The sun once left her
The moon abandoned her,
The sparkle was a dim light,
And she had gold
pouring out of her arms.
The gold was a mesmerizing glow,
It sparkled in the light,
Such a beauty,
She should never know.
The happiness in her mind,
Left.
And was replaced by depression,
And she never understood it.
The song she sings,
While baking cookies,
Turned into silence,
And the quiet.
The gold was leaving her body,
Much more now,
Every night.
Until,
One day the moon was in her heart again,
The sun returned to her hands,
The sparkle shone brighter than before,
And her musical cookies returned,
Once more.
She was a rare girl,
For she had a secret,
Nobody knew,
She was he girl with gold in her arms,
And only thin white lines,
On her arm to prove.
I crave it's feel
The devil and I might even make a deal
To worship it, I kneel.
The smooth and cold steel
Enhances the danger it brings
As if a siren luring men to their death it sings.
Sharp and beautiful like a rose
Red colors blossoming and bloody
Flowing down to the sink that it's flooding
The steel is red and dripping
My mind is slipping
I worship the steel that hurts me
But keep my scars hidden to the world, unseen
But after every slice and dice why am I still unhappy?
Perhaps because the steel that I love will never love me
Empty
The space around me
Sucking all the air from the room
My eyes are veiled by the gloom
Blank walls with bland furniture
Every time I turn it's her
Oceans escape my eyes
The mirrors surround me, staring straight into the lies
It's her and then it's them and then it's everyone
I'm locked in, I can't escape what I've done.
Watching them stare straight into my soul
Looking right through me as though I'm not even whole.
Running running running
But where to go
When I'm trapped in this mirror maze
Wandering in a daze
"Have I been here before? Did I already see this?"
Is there even an exit, why is it so damned easy to miss.
I glance down at ruby red paint
Paint? Is that why I feel faint?
It's dripping to the floor.
Maybe this can help me find the door!
The cold eyes that stare into my soul
Realizes things I do not know
Hears sounds that do not register in my brain.
Metal clinks hitting floor, light reflecting off of red and glass, "why am I in pain"
Hands shaking, trying to regain control
I didn't cross a bridge why do I have to pay a toll
A shockwave washes over my undead corpse
Breathing is equivalent to being plunged into freezing water, trying to take deep breaths while my head is pounding with force
Am I even alive?
If I jumped off the Empire State would I learn how to fly
Falling falling falling
The people in the windows I soar by are bawling?
Do they know I'll be fine
If I just slowly land on the line
Is time accelerating or slowing to a halt
Someone's screaming "It's all my fault!"
No it's not?
I'm hanging in open air, suspended above the parking lot
Everything is frozen and yet my adrenaline is pumping
My body shakes like a house in an earthquake, rhythmically thumping
The hustle and bustle of the city is deafeningly silent
My mind can't think, there's a hole in my head, it's just a dent.
Pecking pecking pecking
Two birds with one stone
Just the woodpecker and me.
Or me alone
Is the woodpecker real?
Does it cause the pain I feel?
Is that even real?
My mind is hazy
My world goes black
I'm falling, falling, falling
I can't fly but can I take a nap?
Electricity crackles in the open air
Is that a breeze?
Dust looms over my nose and I sneeze. Rubbing my eyes like a kid on christmas day
How did I get saved?
The maze of mirrors holds an open door.
Skid marks are left on the floor
Sneakers squeaking
Eyes are leaking
I can see MY OWN reflection as I dash past.
None of them or her or anyone else
Only me alone.
And I'm ready to go home.
My razor is so powerful
Always fixing me when I'm broke
From cutting lines in my arm
To cutting lines of coke
My razor is my weapon
Only used to defeat myself
And I can't tell if my tool is good or bad
Since I'm not hurting/"fixing" anyone else
Out by the glades,
They run side by side,
Both a victim,
Of suicide.
They used the same blade,
Laying under the tree of sugar plums.
Both her then him,
Until they fell numb.
How did it come to this?
Well, she had terminal cancer.
Her smile was fake,
And she was no dancer.
Then he told her of his and they wanted to eternally be together.
So their lives they would take,
Under the sugar plum tree
Where they first met each other.
~
The day was grey,
The sun was gone,
She found shelter under the tree,
butt he too had gone there,
And each other they did not see.
She sat there shivering,
Where he heard her breathe,
And gave her a jacket,
From him to she.
~
Now there they lay,
Under the same tree,
Hearts giving up,
Finally able to see,
The people they were truly meant to be.
~
After three years,
Their death had died down,
But now they say,
If you stand beneath the tree,
You'll find them swinging on branches,
Meant to be.
She walks the halls,
Head held high.
Everybody hates her,
I don't understand why.
She is full of beauty,
Inside and out,
She tries hard to keep everyone happy,
Excluding herself.
A huge argument arose,
Sitting at the lunch table,
She runs off down the hall,
And I follow her,
When she realized I was there,
She turned around,
In tears,
And said,
"Why does everyone hate me?
I never meant to hurt anyone.
I tried cutting myself.
I took a handful of sleeping pills.
I always look happy,
But I'm depressed.
Smoking was the only thing,
Making me feel normal."
I didn't know what to say,
She has broken,
Her tears prove that,
This happy and beautiful girl,
Turned out to be depressed.
I promised her I am always here,
I promised myself I will help pick up her broken pieces.
Her mask is gone,
The veil is up.
I know what she hides,
And it's messed up.
I just want to let it all go. I'm done playing it safe. Free falling sounds like my next move. Cutting, vomiting, suicide. It's all becoming one, no boundaries from one to the next.
I hear others laughing and only cringe. Jealousy overtakes me. I can't remember what truly laughing feels like, what a real smile on my lips tastes like. What is happiness? Even just being okay sounds good at this point. Jealousy shoots through my veins as I think about the girls who don't take the blade to their skin, the girls who don't feel the need to starve themselves or vomit after eating, the girls who don't feel that death is their only option.
Being to this point where I don't care anymore is kind of nice, though. No more tears, no more emotions. Just the cold blade against my exposed skin.
People say I am getting out of hand. That's not true. It's just I don't care anymore. This world and the things inside of it mean nothing to me. By summer, I will be skinny. But keeping my grades up gets harder each week. I don't know how much longer I can hold up, staying in this world. The pain is so great.
But I keep forgetting that I don't care. I'm done here. Who needs life anyway? Who needs me? Death is the final option. My final option.
I'm sorry it has taken so long
For me to recognize your light
Yet I'd be lying to say that
I'm blind to the darkness you reflect
Off of each curve and thicker
Piece of skin with the images of
My past pain swimming across the surface
Although I've hidden the old scars behind New ones
filled with ink, the stains
Never truly lift from my pale limbs
Leaving paler veins that bulge through the art
But I hold no shame for those choices
My bleeding scars reflect a beautiful life
Within the death I felt looming too closely as
I was forced to be an adult in a child's body
As I begged for death and was given life with
All the prospects of becoming whole
Only after endless trials of trauma
Whether by blade, glass, and metal
Or starvation, pressure, and pills
I tried to paint the picture of a dreamland life
Across the human limbs that I blamed for my pain
Due to my distorted perspective of perfection
Because the shapes never fit together
And the moment I reached "enough"
It always became too little
Not small enough, not flat enough
Not worthy of love
Too masculine, too feminine
It always seemed wrong
But now I know that
My body is not the enemy
Through the dysphoria
My body still breathes
And I am no less human
Even if my reflection does not reach my skewed standards of decency
Because perfect does not exist
Because the shame I've been dealt
Is not my responsibility to carry
I can learn to love my body
Without skipping meals and
Without the sweet relief of pain
Because I am only human
And our bodies are all beautiful
Because they're ours