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TinyATuin Jul 2016
i solve my problems by drinking tea

well i'm nearing my fifth cup
                                       kinda feeling like giving up
        but through burned tongue
    and too bitter earl grey
  i think i could just lay
here for a little bit longer.
Tea bag consumption in this household is outrageous, thanks to me.
you’re still here
your clothes are still in the closet
your ***** dishes in the sink
but your mind isn’t near
it’s living in a parallel world
with its monsters for company
i speak but you can’t hear
some other voices fill your head
and you listen to them instead
i reach out but it’s clear
it’s hard to drag you back
from that place you have imagined
where perhaps you want to stay
why return to all this fear
when you’ve got a better place
somewhere where you can heal
without all the disgrace
your face is blank, your eyes don’t shine
you look at me but you see through
yes, your body is still here,
but not you
Alaska Jul 2016
I feel like I'm dreaming
Even though I'm wide awake
I hear somebody screaming,
I'm losing myself.

Some leaves are rustling in my ears,
The others crunch beneath my feet,
My head is filled with fears,
I hear a strange sound
I realise - it's my heartbeat.

A stitch in my wound,
A knock in my back,
I manage to sit down
When everything turns black
As I hear the shattering of my crown.
Alaska Jul 2016
she never said a word
the silence was her loudest scream
but it couldn't be heard

is this life or just a dream
am i here and is this real
it isn't like it seemed to be
*-this world might be just not for me
Roxxanna Kurtz Jun 2016
Your words break my grip
as I feel myself slip
under the waters of
my irrational mind.
Time is slowly stripped
from my consciousness
as my lungs fill with
a warmth that numbs
my senses blind.
Bit by bit, you fade
from existence,
your words falling into the abyss
of the distance between
your eyes and mine;
and I'm lost inside.
z Apr 2016
i am not home
(oh, I know You’re Me)
only the Best words come out when I am half asleep
but the best memories never seem to come back.

I love you for all the things you didn’t do.
And you blamed me for everything I took from you
But maybe you did, and maybe I didn’t too

And now all I see is someone else and feel my hands get all fuzzy
snow piles up in the subway
Tthe man stared at me, I don’t have anything to say

There is a line I cannot cross so I leave for a while
And I feel strange, I feel forgetful
and I feel uncomfortable.
i am not real
Anjana Rao Apr 2016
The worst thing,
most insidious thing
about trauma
is that
it doesn’t matter what anyone does,
in the end,
everything is,
(must be, has to be)
your fault.

Trauma is
a voice:
you should have known,
you should have done more,
you should have stood up for yourself,
what is wrong with you,
do you want to be miserable,
why did you trust,
don’t you ever learn?


Trauma is
you watching you
watching what you do,
watching what you don’t do,
watching it all go by.

Trauma is
a voice:
do something
do something
do something.


Trauma is
screaming at a pre-taped football game,
expecting a different outcome.

Trauma is
begging the fictional character to not open the door
when there is clearly a killer waiting.

Trauma is
the hole you keep finding yourself in,
whether or not you see it,
maybe you fall in,
maybe you dive in,
it doesn’t make a difference.

Trauma is
painful -
repeated openings of the same wounds,
hitting a bruise again, again, again,
watching the colors change -
but mostly,
it’s an embarrassment.

Trauma is
a voice:
This is fine.
You can’t tell.
This is fine.
You can’t tell.
This is fine.
You can’t tell.


Trauma is
your best kept secret.

Trauma is
the kind of ****** up
that can’t be named,
can’t be explained.

Trauma is
the kind of ****** up
that is too deep to be fixed.

Trauma is
who you are.
Anjana Rao Mar 2016
It happens imperceptibly
but you know it
when it’s in full effect –

Two’s company
three’s crowd.

It’s not
anyone’s fault,
not something
anyone decides,
just how it goes
sometimes.

Conversation
becomes
more and more
personal,
until it is clear:

You are not supposed to be here.

So you do
what you are good at doing.
You disappear.

-

See, disappearing?
You have it down
to a science.

Talk less and less
and then not at all.
Stare off into space,
perhaps fidget from time to time,
make small movements
to show that you
have not quite
turned to stone.

Take a while to leave.
It can’t be sudden -
you wouldn’t want to draw attention
to yourself.
[It’s awkward for everyone involved.]

Finally,
when you think you just
can’t
bear it,
get up to go to the bathroom
and never come back.

It’s easier than you think.

-

They will look for and address you
eventually:
oh good night, are you okay, you’re so quiet,
you should have said something, I’m sorry, sorry,
sorry.


The usual.

You will reassure them
when the time comes,
fold up your feelings
into a little origami crane
that you wish could just
fly away.

But for now
you can sit safely
in your invisibility.

-

You told your friend group earlier
that sometimes you thought
there was no point calling yourself
gay
because you just hated everyone.

It makes everyone laugh,
and even you find that you’re amused,
but
you don’t know if they heard
the hurt, the bitterness, the honesty of that statement
buried within your voice.

-

You watch
the way your two friends (with benefits)
are affectionate with each other,
the way one puts her head
in the other’s lap,
the way they play with each other’s hair
small kisses on small places,
the way they do these things
and see only each other,
as if all of this
is only obvious
to them.

It’s sweet.

You try to rouse yourself into
more feeling:
jealousy,
sadness,
hopefulness,
anything intense, but
everything boils down to
the same nothingness.
This is simply
another thing you
can’t/won’t/don’t have
[pick any verb, they’re all true].

-

And this is what
your life is:
trying to find ways
to make everything disappear.

Feelings – gone.
Desires – gone.
Expectations – gone.
Hopes – gone.
Communication – gone.

-

And this is what your life is:
Succeeding.
Alison Shulman Mar 2016
I think I may be becoming a functioning drug addict
although I don't know if it's technically an addiction if the doctors still giving it to me, or that's what I say anyways because I don't want to admit to anyone that I might have a problem
because if I admit it they might take it away
and I don't want that

I know that sounds like something a drug addict would say but I don't really need them all that much, I just like them for when life gets hard
and I can't handle the world
and I don't feel like a person
they bring me back to normal

you decided to text me after we hadn't talked in 7 weeks 6 days 15 hours and 39 minutes and my heart sank to my stomach and I felt my breathing stop and I chewed up two tiny little pills because I needed to work and be a functioning person that day

when I finally responded you said you were just wondering how I'd been and even though I've been well before now all I could do was cry so I chewed up six more in an attempt to get you off my mind and I fell into a dreamy paradise where nothing was real, not even me

I had dinner with my grandma and as an appetizer I had two more tiny white pills so I could mask the face that would tell her how much I've been thinking about death
I think it worked

I wrote a note in my journal saying to only take 2 so when I couldn't sleep that's what I did but I found one in my bed and so I took that one too and I drifted off into nothingness without you rattling around my brain

I think I may be a functioning drug addict, but I'm not ready to tell anyone because I'm not ready to stop
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