I spent my days crying, praying
That you would stop kneeling to the toilet
Sacrificing for a thinner body
You would sell your soul to see your ribs
And I would sell mine, to see you yourself again

What happened to the days when your favorite food was mac 'n' cheese
When you asked for seconds and didn't weigh your kale, adding every gram to your imaginary rolls?
What happened to your smile, the childish laughter in your eyes
I'm waiting for you to come running around the corner

Please, forget for a moment your scales
Your toilet worship, your laxatives and long walks
Let's play like we used to
Let's be three years old and play in the garden
I want to see you one more time
Before it's too late.

Hiraeth 7d

Take me where the sun shines so bright
The shadows are gone
But the light doesn't burn
Take me where the breeze is speckled with laughter
But not one chuckle is pretence
Take me where I can run without being chased,
Fly without falling
And sing without crying.
Take me.
It's Grey here.

Stacie Anna Jun 15

Little bristle brush... All you do is collect dust
I promise you won't like this.
Im sorry you have to go through this..
But I have to paint my body with you... My therapist told me too.
Tubs of joyous colors are waiting for me to choose.
The color that represents what I admire of my body will be blue...
As I'm staring into this mirror... I began to see your ghost beside me...
He wrapped his arms around my waist and expressed our memories
He reminded me of that time when I stripped my bra off for you... and you had to grab the counter to stand still...
The ghost turned blue and he took the paint brush... he started painting my collarbone blue...
He gave it to me. Then he disappeared... The ghost was you...
So I continued...
I then painted my stomach...
Then I painted my thighs... which led me to my knees.. and all the way down to my feet..
I painted my breast... and my vagina would be next.
I painted my whole body blue... I couldn't have done it without you..
One day... let's cover me with you... like a blanket of love.
Cover my body with yours... Cover me...Blue.
With your body on top of me... You won't be able to see anything.
So I'll paint my toes blue.. and I'll wear a blue lipstick.. my eyes are already blue... Yours are too.
My therapist walked back into the room...
She said "Wow. You painted your whole body blue. You are supposed to pick a color that represents what you like about your body and a different color that will represent what you don't like about your body... But you painted everything blue..."
I said, "Yes. because I finally love myself. I don't want to change anything."
Hey Dierks... Thank you... I couldn't love me without you.

summer-lynne Jun 12

it's a mess this world
the deafening sound of sirens and screams
fall from the tv
while the tears fall from your cheeks

another loud crack followed by screams
its happened again
a man with a gun
another distressing tragedy

all too soon
the most innocent people take their last breath
to a man with a gun
surrounded by large, dark crimson pools

you quickly change the channel with a click
as you hear the squeaky floorboards
it's your little one running in
saying she's ready to go to sleep

she asks you to check for monsters
in the closet
under the bed
but what a misfortune to have to explain

you won't find them in the closet or under the bed
you'll find them on the streets
because monsters are real
they just live in our heads.

Grace Jordan Jun 8

You know, the better I get overall the worse my relationship with sleep gets.

I keep on trying. I know its healthier. I know its good for me. But no matter how hard I try, its so easy to forget. So easy to just keep going.

I'm not good at stopping. I don't like to stop.

I'm like a telegram with run-on sentences. Sometimes, innovative and brilliant. other times, incomprehensible.

I'm on the precipice of so much excitement and joy that, per usual, sleep takes a back seat. I'm bad at not letting it take a back seat. Its just so good at taking the back seat.

To be honest, I'm better with sleep with him around. And its less because he's some magic cure-all, and more he makes me calmer and I can't stay on my phone haphazardly or turn on the lights and write with another person in the bed.

More to be honest, this has less of a point and more a myriad of ramblings in hope to get myself sleepy and able to fall asleep. Because despite my rebellious mindset, I do wish to sleep eventually.

I even tried waking up early yesterday. Didn't work.

I dunno what to do. I'm pretty bad at this. If my insides aren't screaming I tend to question it less. But, perhaps, as an adult, I should question it a little more.

Maybe sleep's just heading in my bedhead.

Hearing the toaster pop up and realizing you've been spinning in circles the whole time, with no recollection of the time passing,
Saying "f*ck" while you do the dishes or vacuum because apparently that's a trigger for you,
And don't you dare think about time because you'll spend all of it flailing your arms and hyperventilating,
Hoping you're not annoying when you click your tongue over and over,
And feeling the tickle in your arms hoping they won't judge you for twisting your hand three times,
What the hell do I have? Is it OCD, ADD, or is it turrets?
A mixture of all maybe? I don't know but I need some rest.

anonymous May 22

it's easy to starve yourself
it's easier to starve when she starved you of love
you count your fuck ups like i count my calories
that feeling in the pit of your stomach
it starts to become addictive
and just like your love
that emptiness swallows me whole
and sometimes i can't tell if it's hunger
or maybe it's the hollow feeling of abandonment
but i just can't seem to tell them apart anymore

Zan Balmore May 17

Unwell. Or am I?
Who's to say the past is done,
When I clean puncture wounds,
Dawn to dusk, of detritus?

Unwell. Or am I?
Who's confused and who's knowing?

Unwell. Or am I?

Merging verses, moving tiles.
Twisted memories play pretty.
Every tangent plays at once.

Who moves when I move?
Convergence hurts us all.


I am not myself
I am not Lexi Greenwood
I stare into the mirror hoping my brain will connect the dots that reflect on my body
And realise that the person in the mirror is myself

But it's not
I'm trapped in a world where my emotions aren't my own
They drip and drop like the leaky tap that can't be fixed
I can't turn this damn thing on or off

I know the world is real but I can't help but disagree
Everyone acts like robots walking around accepting fate and doing what they do
The monotonous cycle that loops like the broken record of society

And I can't make it stop
I just want to to stop

I'm not myself
I am not lexi greenwood
I am no one

My experience with depersonalisation disorder (a dissociative disorder).  My personal views and struggles
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