The walls of my room have secrets that even my closest friends do not know.
They have seen me toss and turn restless night after restless night or watched me play dead as I sleep away my exhaustion.
The passing time within these walls have been painted with the sound of my cries and cleaned with pools of my tears as I constantly wonder why I am never good enough.

They hold the moans of men that are enticed ever so long to make their mark and then leave.
The walls hear the conversations about men that didn't matter but still managed to make me feel like I did.
They hold the snores of others as they rest peacefully after finding pleasure as I lay still wondering why I still feel nothing.

The walls hold in everything.
They have heard every intrusive thought and every "I hate you" that has managed to escape from my lips towards my own reflection.
They have heard my anxious whispers-
my whimpers of pain.
Yet, they do not judge.
They simply lock away everything I can never find the courage to say.

Have you ever starved yourself to the point of sickness?
Empty and hallow and still trying to give pieces of yourself that don’t exist
You take another pill, tell another lie, say to yourself, your family and friends you are fine
Eat just enough to get by
Hope they don’t notice the gaps getting larger between your meals and your thighs
You take sleeping pills because sleep has become harder and harder to reach
The pit in your stomach screams loudly
Warning you that it’s empty
Reluctantly you go and swallow your pride
And hope that will last you through the evening

I’m not sure what got me more—
the denial or the apathy,
when you said,
“That’s just you
being a lazy teenager,”
or when she said,
“Okay.
If you really wanna pay for it.”

Anticlimactic moments
but after working up to it,
should I have
expected anything differently?
After all the angst
and the put on confidence,
it just resulted in that,
and now I’ll go see
if there’s relief
to be found in a professional.

I hate people so much, yet one of my biggest fears is being alone.

It's oddly quiet in there today
Normally they're up wreaking havoc by now
Gears in full motion
What's really going on

What am I saying
Am I really questioning it
Who doesn't enjoy the inner stillness
That breath of fresh air

The wheels aren't constantly turning
Things that matter, those that don't
Cares and fears-all silent
The wheels aren't constantly turning

The rage, often wanting to burst
Quiet
Have the little people deserted me
Should I be worried


Happy