"hay lets be in a relationship..."
"no I'm good.."
"no really, we'd be so great together.."
"I'm sure you think that, but honestly, its not something..."
"no.. no listen, I think..."
"okay but I'm.. I'm not ready... I'm trying to get myself togeth...."
"no I've got this, we will be together and I will help you..."
"what??... I can't, I'm not well enough to commit to...."
"you don't have to, I will help you..."
"I know but I'm not well, mentally...  I'm not emotionally..."
"I understand you before you say anything, I will carry you, I will be your protection"
"I can't do this, its too heavy.."
"I will carry you"
"I'm scared..."
"and I will help you"
"I cant do this..."
"yes you can, I'm here for you"
"I've been through too much, I haven't healed, I need therap...."
"I will be your therapy, I understand you"
"I don't know...."
"think about it. I love you"
"I can't...."
"I have love enough for us both.."
"I don't, I'm not ready, I ..... I ...."
"I love you, you are wonderful"
"I'm not, I'm damaged, i feel broken.. inside.."
"I can fix you, help you, love you. Don't you want that?"
"...."
"......"
"I do but..."
"then lets give it a try, lets give us a try.. yes?"
"I'm not..."
"yes you are, you are ready, I love you..."
"you do?..."

and that's the story of how i became buggered past retrieval

You still bring me flowers
Only to see them die
By all the smashed vases you bring along

What is contained in those years prefacing our story?
Memory is a fickle thing-
Pieces of mine have been left in storm drains and deep closets
Give me what you can-
the frayed shoelaces from fifth grade and clip on ties from homecoming dances
We can trade these like baseball cards-
the patch of woods behind my childhood home for when you learned how to ride a bike
Could you spare the day you knew your mom would leave?
You can have the time I realized silence is tangible when you want company- it rests heavy on your chest as you sit alone at the table .
I take what we've traded and tuck it between my floorboards, in the panels of my walls, in my window frame
What was contained in those years before us is safe in my woodwork as you gift it to me
And the years to come will hold pieces of me

i think about it every time i get into a car. every **** time. it used to be, how fast can i go? can i time the drop to the ascent?
can i **** myself
can i **** myself
can i **** myself?
i was eleven when i first realized i wanted to die. i was in a hot crowded car with three uncles who i didn’t know, one who caught me changing and stayed a lot longer than he should have. and the air was like breathing hot sand, and i thought i could just open the door and fling myself out into traffic. maybe i'd turn into a bird and fly free on the wind. when i think about cars i see all the ways i could die. i tremble every time i have to get into a car with my father because i know if he pushes me hard enough i’ll unlock the door and end it.
as i was walking to my room on the night of my first suicide attempt, i told my dad i would never see him again. his eyes flicked up from the book he was reading, and murmured out a simple "nice".

My head is aching as I hear you screaming.
My innocent brain is now full of dirt.
My ear is tired of hearing every swears you've said
My throat is aching every time I try to stop the tear
My heart is always in pain
My soul is full of hatred.
I'm young.
What if I  died tomorrow?
Maybe the pain will go away....

I'm tired,
wish you'd wrap your arms around me,
or offer your chest or lap for me to rest my head upon -
I'm tired,
but I can only sleep if you're here.