You were the only flower
Budding in this long forgotten bed
So I watered you
And watered you
Only to **** you instead

They keep checking under my bed,
But they don't even try to check inside my head.

I let myself to sleep in deep,
But not even a minute i open my eyelids.

There's the scream that i always here,
The nightmares that  i have fear.

I hate myself for being here,
I hate myself for being like this,
I hate myself for wanting to be free,
And i hate the nightmares that always hunt me.

How lonely would you be,
Sitting on the only rock,
Above water in a lake?
Can you cry,
If I were to die,
Drowned beneath these waves?
Listen to the flying shadow,
He cries, he screams, he travels with ******,
Foreshadowing awaited end, floating up,
Out of the water,
I can no longer touch the border,
Of water and earth,
And the transparent evidence of my life,
No longer does it irritate me,
No longer does it sparkle in this underwater sunshine.
How happy would you be,
If I were to rise?
How happy would you be,
If I appeared alive?
                             -from firefly

the Bible says that hell is like a fiery oven.
i believe that the Bible is wrong.

hell is forgetting every single good moment you've ever had in your life and replacing it with every bad one.
hell is never having a feeling for something at all. you can't see color. you can't smell. you can't feel. you lose touch with the things you once cherished.

hell is watching the people you love suffer.
hell is being able to do absolutely nothing about it.

hell is feeling tired all the time, hell is looking at the bags under your eyes and saying, "today. today is the day i will sleep" and it never happening.

hell is anxiety. hell is the shaking of your hands, the bouncing of your leg, the biting of your lip until you can taste the twang of metal in your mouth.

hell is never being able to appease anyone. hell is never being able to appease yourself. hell is being known as the disappointment, the mistake, the never should have happened.

hell is the depression. the white of the mental hospital walls. the barred windows. the tears down your mother's face. hell is writing sorry on the suicide note that led you there in the first place.

hell is just not a fiery oven, hell is now, tomorrow, and every day after.

I have told myself I'm okay for
Far too ******* long.
I want to disappear forever.
Go somewhere I won't be found.
Where people will give up on the search.
I'm not
Who people think I am.
I'll leave in the night,
When everyone is asleep.
Maybe not. I'm not sure.
"I'll be back later"
"Where are you going?"
"On a walk"
No one will think anything.
*I'll find an overpass,

Climb over it.

And *jump.

At just the right time.

Is It Me?
Am I The Reason
People Always
LEAVE?

"I've been doing so well," I type as I slide a thin silver blade down my hipbone. "I'm clean and I've been taking my medication and I've even been running." Blood gathers at the edges, draw swirls in the warmth.
Bright blue screen lights up my hopes and my heart does a flip.
"Can we talk later? I'm really tired."
"Of course! Sorry for keeping you up."
It's 3:49 in the ******* afternoon.
Remember when you were my best friend and you walked two miles to my house in the middle of the night because I told you I felt alone?
Remember when I was out of town for a day and you missed me so bad you bought me cupcakes?
Remember when you told me I was the only person you'd ever been in love with?
I'm so sorry.
I miss you.
Please.