Have you ever seen someone so crumbled,
That it seems they are dying?
Someone so hurt,
And so full of distaste for themselves that they tried to end?
I have.
I have been one,
And I have met a million.
And there is ONE thing I have realized about all of these people.
Not one of them is weak.
Not a single one.
Most of these shattered souls have held together through a million beatings,
Physical or verbal.
All of these beings who fold in upon themselves,
Trying to hide,
Are the most beautiful humans to ever exist.
Each of these souls with an ache for an end,
Are talented, and skilled in ways that most would not think.
Every bruised heart has loved a trillion,
But are now afraid to have someone cruel reach in,
And rip their love out.
Every single one of these people are perfect,
Worthy beings.
Every single soul like this,
Deserves to wail,
And cry.
Each one has every right to scream,
And howl,
Until their lungs are weak.
All of them deserve the most perfect love,
And they each deserve respect.
To most,
Each of these souls are weak.
But they are not.
They are trees whose limbs have been scorched,
But are still breathing,
And are still dreaming,
Even if they believe that they do not deserve a single good thing.
They have leaves sprouting at their bases,
Flowers blooming from their roots.
They may seem powerless to some,
Even themselves,
But they are wise,
Powerful souls,
With a thousand rings in their tree trunks,
Who will NEVER be uprooted.

When you leave me and walk away,
my heart will cry, but I’ll still be the same.
No matter how hurtful the things you say,
my worth’s still intact; it will always remain.
My love, without you life might be gray,
however I am tired of playing this game.
You can push and pull - try as you may,
but I won’t allow you to cause me more pain.
Now, my darling, it's my move - my play,
so I'm going all in, no longer tame.
I'm choosing myself unapologetically this day.
I will venture on forward; forgetting your name.
When you realize what’s happened, you’ll beg me to stay.
You'll try to tell me it's a loss, but I can only see gain.

I am tired, exhausted really.
I’m not getting enough sleep. Not enough is going my way.
Writing takes a piece of my soul and turns into words while meaningless by themselves becomes something with power.
Life doesn’t feel vibrant and colorful like I know it sometimes can be.
Life has instead been replaced with a gloomy, apathetic relative.
Life has been treating me unfairly, despite my best efforts.
It has left me broken and bruised and bleeding in the middle of the battlefield.
Despite my cries, nobody hears me as I continue to disintegrate into a shriveling pile of nothing.

I feel like I’m losing. No, I know that I’m losing.
Because see it’s not the battles that matter, it’s the war.
Things have changed, I’m slowly coming back to the person I used to be, unhappy with myself and with life.
I’m completely terrified of this thought but far too tired to resist.
I don’t know how to reverse, I don’t know how to find happiness.
I have lost the road map, I’m scrambling for a hand hold or some sort of sign.

I’m too tired to fight.
I’m too tired to be happy.
I’m too tired to focus on school work.
I’m too tired to push myself through 6 hours of homework a night.
I’m too tired to carry around a 40 pound backpack from class to class.
I’m too tired to find balance between healthy habits and what reality holds.
I’m too tired to effectively manage my time, I would rather self-sabotage.
I’m too tired to write, I’ve already said this.
Maybe if I got more sleep, not so much in my life would be wrong.  
I like to think that the majority of my life’s problems would be fixed with a little more balance.
Perhaps my life would look a little more like my aspirations.
Perhaps I would be happier and my eyes filled with more ambition.
Perhaps my notebooks would be filled to the brim with intelligent ideas and beautifully crafted writing.
Perhaps my life would look more like the plot to a cheesy indie film with the protagonist figuring everything out during a montage set to sentimental music. I would enjoy that.
Or
Perhaps nothing would change. And everything I imagined is nothing but an impossible world created by fractured idealist’s fuel and fabricated fiction.
I’m exhausted and tired of putting my ideas out only to have them rejected.
But that’s what writing is about. Reality, and pushing through.

Writing isn’t supposed to be infused with sugar-coated metaphors and avoidance of the truth.
Writing isn’t supposed to be lies, although that narrative is proposed often.
Writing isn’t supposed easy.
Writing is supposed to be about emotion.
Writing is about failure.
Writing is about heartbreak.
Writing is supposed to be about the rough times as much as it is about the good times.
Writing is real.
Writing is exposure.
Writing is powerful, simply because of the truth behind it.

So I will continue to write even when I don’t feel like it.
I will continue to face reality, head on with a stare colder than ice.
I will write because it’s not supposed to be easy.

You and I have a bipolar relationship
Full of roller-coaster ups and downs
One moment we exchange "I love yous"
The next we both wear sudden frowns

It is usually hard to hold a conversation
Sometimes we can talk all night
Arguing makes us blind with stubbornness
Too proud to admit when the other is right

You get a rush starting fights
You feed off other's distress
I do not know why you have to put people down
To feel powerful; believe you are a success

I still care about you even when you are mad
In spite of wounds you inflict
I do not hold grudges over them
Or ones already licked

You gave scars so I would grow strong
I do not know if it worked but you tried
Now that I am grown I'm covered in marks
Not on my skin but inside

You did your best to bring me up right
I have not turned out to be
All you hoped, one day i will
Make you proud, hope you agree.

I will not do everything you say
May or may not take your advice
I need to make my own silly mistakes
Even if that means making some of them twice

I am the one seated behind the wheel
I know you are sure you need to steer
You will never be able to
Choose which direction i decide to veer

Have confidence in what you have created
I know i have let you down before
From now on i will be careful
Pause before i open a new door

You will always be part of my life
Although you challenge our bond sometimes
It is worth it for the laughter we share
The support shown in difficult times

Thank you for being there
You are not perfect but you try
Your baby bird left the nest
Your love is what taught me to fly

The birds sing on.
The car drives on..
The clock ticks on...
The sun shines on....
The piano plays on.

If in order to exist, it must be written
then at dawn when I wake, I'll reach for my pen.

I'll write of light, sunrises, love, and beauty.
My pages will overflow with all things good.
I'll write of adventure & kindness, of laughter & healing.
My steps will scream confidence, though I've stumbled each time I stood.

If in order to exist, it must be written
then I will never ceases writing, until I reach the end.

Icy cold water runs over my hands and I do not move the handle,
I let it wash away the soap without concern for the temperature.
They say that drowning is painful, you feel the burning in your lungs,
You kick and struggle as you fight to get rid of the water and carbon dioxide in your body,
Or you can let it in, your head will feel like it’s exploding.
Your body will feel heavy like several pounds of rocks weighing you down,
But you won’t struggle, you feel a lot of pain at first,
Then it starts to pass and you’ll feel relaxed.
I think about that as I turn the water off,
I go back to my room to watch another episode of some show I'm not paying attention to
I focus on the screen physically but my brain is swimming.
My thoughts are ripples, and then waves, then they are 100 feet high,
A tsunami of pain tugs me into the deep blue purgatory.
I wonder how many water molecules are in this storm,
How many tiny things made this enormous tidal mass.
I breathe in the salt and the sea,
I breathe in the clouds and the sky,
My feet graze the sand as I sink deeper.
I can imagine the coral cutting my insides as my lungs begin to burn,
I feel the fish swimming into my head as it grows like a balloon.
I open my eyes and it’s beautiful,
Miles of empty nothingness surrounds me,
The sun is hitting the water just enough that I can see all the shades of blue,
All the colors that make it so vast and endless.
Icy cold water surrounds me and I do not move,
I let it fill me up and wash away my pain without concern for anything.
They say that drowning is painful and you can feel everything,
I guess I had been doing it for so long that I forgot how to breathe
But now I do not struggle and I let myself sink, and I cannot feel a thing.