end of my elementary school years i had a diary.
a boy i had a crush on broke my heart and i wrote in my diary on a page somewhere in between the middle and the end about how i was
                 emo.
about how i wanted to cut my wrists and be sad all the time.

my parents found this diary and found this page and questioned me until i said it was all a lie and i didn't even know what emo really was.

i keep a diary online now, and i occasionally cut myself, and i wonder if my parents ever think i'm emo.

would i be able to lie and tell them i don't know what emo is? or would they look at the scars and wonder when i really found out what being emo was.

There's a problem with our society
Worse than insecurities, depression, and anxiety
It's how we deal with these problems
Rather, it's how we cause them
If we disagree, we're just wrong
We're put down and told we don't belong
We've not been given a reason for what not to say
We've learned to just hold our thoughts at bay
There are kids who want to talk but fear the label
So they remain quiet and in line, feeling disabled
We wonder why they'd come to school with a gun
Yet we allow where these thoughts begun
There are things missing from our history books
Hidden by the sole judgement of how we look
Drown out the world with sound when alone
It's not their problem, but I don't have a home
A teacher never fails, it's you who takes the blow
But the greatest lessons we'll never know
They teach us the professional way
But we can **** ourselves with razorblades
We rather not talk about suicide
So we push the truth down even further to hide
We become a far more dangerous group of kids
Although it's our culture that forbids
Yet we glorify those of honor and praise
Celebrating them as they gave to the grave
Please don't be afraid of our opinion
But we think our culture treats losses like a win
Listen to me--these words are very convenient
Our opinion will not be lenient
Why is it we know them for their death
But otherwise, we don't care for their breath
We don't quite get what we're communicating
Death is a logical way is what we're saying
They begin to believe they're better off dead
But we must help them get through their head
Our voices are clear--we're demanding action
These people aren't worth it--they get a fraction
I mean no disrespect to who is left behind
But we must know this should not be glorified
We must understand what we're engraving
And the affects on how we're behaving
Do not give to the succession in a grave
But fight with us in the path that we pave
They need to know, together they will get far
This ambiguity is not who we are

The nights grow long
The air grows cold
My mood is changing
I'm so very tired

My homework suffers
As I spend every minute I can asleep
I lose interest
I stop using my healthy coping skills

The blade it calls me
Thank god long sleeves are the norm now
I watch the blood drip
I feel the pain

I know now I'm not numb
I want to die
But courage I lack
Or is it fear that keeps me here

So instead I clean my gun
Oil my handcuffs
Polish my boots
Cause evil never sleeps

I take my pills
They kinda help
I've stopped eating
There's to much stress.

When will summer come again
I miss the happiness
I miss the manic
Will I ever find peace

9/28/18

Dear Future Self in 2024;

Hey. You still alive? Well if you’re reading this then you’re alive. So congrats on making it this far. I know you have been going through alot over the past 6 years. I just wanted to see how you were doing.

As I’m writing this, I’m a 15 year old sophomore at Dowagiac, in choir, art and in honors. I’m about to join color guard. But I have some questions. You still dating Dakota? Possibly engaged? If you are planning our wedding, it must be in a barn. No exceptions. But are you graduated from Central Michigan for meteorology? Do we work at The Weather Channel or NWS? Got our stuff back from our dad? Martha still our best friend? Did you hurt yourself more? But please tell me we went to prom.

Well I hope you are doing well. And Dakota, if you are reading this with me, I’m glad we made it this far. I love you.
But don’t let others bring you down like I did before. Graduate, get married, have kids. But most of all, have a good and fun filled life. I wish you the most of luck.

Love
You from 2018

I tell myself
Think of him
Another red **** on my arm
He doesn’t want you to do this
Another one
He loves you
Again, this time deeper
He will worry for you
I waver
He will see them
Don’t care. I return to the fluid motion
He will ask you why
The blood drips down my arms
He will want you to stop
I want to stop
He will help you if you let him
I don’t need anyone’s help
Yes you do
I know
So get it
I can’t. I will fix this myself.

I won’t make anyone else deal with my ******* problems

Do not tell me
Your best friend wouldn't be
Gasping for air as she
Hurls herself to the ground
In agony and grief.
Do not tell me
Your classmates wouldn't stare
At your empty seat
Holding back tears
Long after you're gone.
Do not tell me
Your teachers wouldn't give anything
To read one more paper
Or grade one more test
So long as they can have you back.
Do not tell me
Your brother wouldn't
Walk past your closed door and
Be yelled at one more time
For one more stupid problem.
Do not tell me that your father wouldn't wish
That he could hold his baby
Instead of watching them lower his princess
Into her final resting place.
And do not ******* tell me that your mother wouldn't sob
As she washed your last load of laundry
That you would ever *****,
Wishing she could smell her baby girl
One last time.

Do not tell me they wouldn't miss you

Because they would.