Look around, nothing but hatred surrounds you.
A burning world consumes you into this reality.
You have to be perfect, or no one will love you.
Perfect long, curly blonde hair.
Twig thin legs, and a stomach that doesn’t exist.

Pretty looks is key, but don't wear a lot of make up.
Being smart is attractive, just don't talk too much.
The perfect guy won't notice you, without an *** or big *****.
If he likes you for you, he's just a ******* looking for nudes.
He'll lead you on so you fall, then leave after one night.

However, in the end if you don't like your outside..
you can stick in needles and tissue to change.
Next thing you know, your skin is turned into plastic.
And darling, what boy wants to date a living Barbie doll?

Now take a look around, the unnatural town.
Everyone's faces fitting like jagged puzzle pieces.
The reality now eating you alive.
But remember, no one will love you if you're not perfect.

Do i remember? Of course.
How could one forget such a thing.
All of the hopes and dreams
That soon turned into fears and nightmares.
The constant cry and reach for help,
But no one is near.
I remember it all,
Especially every “i love you”.
But you didn’t know love,
All you knew were the lies that flowed out with no filter.
The tears that streamed down my face,
Because you couldn’t love me… for me.
You couldn’t love my flaws,
Every single white line that scarred over my body.
You said you loved me. You said you loved them.
But you hated them even more than I did.
You didn’t hate them because who would feel so low
To do such a thing, but you hated them more because the were ugly.
Ugly.
Ugly.
You make me feel so ugly.
He makes me feel ugly.
Even she makes me feel ugly.
Because the ******* number on the scale,
Is more important that inner beauty.
90.
100.
120.
125.
130.
Numbers increase while meals decrease.
Jean size gets bigger and your smile fades,
Now replaced with a thin line.
A thin line.
A thin line.
A.
Thin.
Line.
That's what you expect for me to be perfect.
So thin so that you can’t even see my presence enter the room.
Instead you’ll feel the dark shadow consume you.
Because being skinny and pretty,
Is better than being healthy.
Happy.
Happy.
At this point is now a blessing,
More than a feeling.
Because your happiness made me live,
Made me feel alive.
Now i’m alone, but i don’t need to wonder why.
Being smart is pretty,
Being skinny is per-
Per-
Per-
Perfect.
Its perfect.
Do you want to make it in this world?
Make sure you’re… perfect.
Nobody cares about the 10 size girl,
With scars on her legs.
Or the 2 size girl who looks too skinny,
To be happy.
Too skinny.
Too fat.
Too happy.
Too sad.
You have to be perfect.
The perfect height.
The perfect size.
Perfect hair and perfect face.
Makeup can make you pretty,
Until you wear too much, now a ****.
Now a **** because you slept with guys,
Just because of the dark around your eyes.
Don’t let them see you cry,
Over the thickness of your thighs.
But hush little baby,
Don’t you cry.
Cause mamma promised you’re beautiful.
It’ll be alright.
Hush little baby.
Hush.

When you experience intrusive suicidal thoughts 75% of the time,
You really forget what it feels like to not feel suicidal.
Having those thoughts there consistantly becomes apart of you.
Waking up in the morning and not thinking about ending your life is a breath of fresh air.
Like a weight is lifted off my shoulders.
But there are some days when not feeling suicidal feels strange.
Like a part of me is missing.
And I find myself wondering why I haven't had any intrusive thoughts in days.
Not that anyone actually wants to have suicidal thoughts.
You see,
I always talk about getting better.
How I want to get better.
But what is ¨better¨?
I didn´t hurt myself today.
I took a shower.
I went into society and talked to people.
Is that being better?
Has my mental illness completely disappeared?
No.
My brain chemicals are still imbalanced.
Today I was just able to function more than I did yesterday.
And maybe tomorrow I will function even more than I did today.
Every day I am growing,  and learning,  and coping.
But I will not ever be better.
I will simply be a different person than I was the day before.

You're obsessed with being a unit because you never feel whole
Soul sullied by the deceit of past flames
Betrayed by the boredom and apathy of she with crimson hair
Why do you care if I’m alone right now?
Why do you care if I’m fraternising with newfound friends of the male gender
Bending me till I break down in tears and ask for forgiveness for sins I did not commit
And offences with heavier burdens than they are due
Forgive me Father, for I have skinned my knees on repeated apologies until my lips are chapped and raw
Until I began to see how my God couldn’t possibly love me
Until a smile was all it took to intoxicate me into another winner-takes-all verbal brawl
Until I learnt to scrawl the ten commandments into my skull
Thou shalt not choose your new friends, for you are too naive, consult me
Thou shalt not lie with anyone other than me, I’d rather you didn’t sleep
Thou shalt not talk to men other than to exchange pleasantries, I’d rather you didn’t breathe
Thou shalt not choose career opportunities that could take you away from me
Thou shalt not
Thou shalt not
Thou shalt not
I see you broken and bleeding on a cross and you whisper, “how could you do this to me?
I died for your sins
I died for your sins
I let the light in and I died for your sins.”
Enough!
I will make my own religion
One that breathes rose petals among the barbs
Armed with the knowledge of what worship should be
And you told me I must learn to pray on my knees,
But tell me:
If you took me to the altar,
How much life would I have to sacrifice
For this all-consuming, greedy god
Of love?

"I love you."
Words can't touch me anymore.
My skin is coated in lies
Nothing penetrates.
My last hope is caught in my throat
And I can't swallow it,
Bumps and bruises are hidden behind
"I'm fine," "I'm just tired."
Words are branded into my skin.
They have left layers of scars
So thick there's no room left to carve -
So imprinted there's nothing left to root.
Nothing more to say to boot.
Prickly like a porcupine, consonants stick off of me,
Petruding like my long buried personality
Used to,
Like my personality used to.
Vowels form a new face of expressions
I was once able to pen for myself
But now
I can't.
I wear words instead of speak them;
I wear words like a coat of armor on top of my numb skin.
I swear words don't even touch me anymore.
There is no need to carry a shield ,
Instead you built for me a castle.
And I'm somewhere inside,
Untouched.

The road looks bumpy from down here
I'm sorry that sleepwalking me loves jackhammers
And wondering what else she can mess up
Without a concept to time to tell her when to stop

I'm sorry about my gasoline decisions and my flaming attitude
I burn everything I touch
Nothing near me  goes undamaged
Nothing  near me stays
I can no longer tell if I'm setting these fires while I'm awake or not
Though I doubt it even makes a difference

Somethings crept it's way under my skin
I haven't been myself for weeks
Every word seems to roll off your tongue in just the wrong way
I'm not saying it your fault
I swear i see a slyness in your eyes
I'm not saying its your fault

My pens have run dry and so I have I
I have said all I can say
I must now be on my way
I wish nothing but the best of you

My wrists still hurt on Thursdays. I still remember the way you looked at me. I haven't slept in the past two twenty-four hour periods. I miss the way you ****** me, like I didn't even matter. I knew I didn't matter, but my god, I wanted to matter.

     CALL IT MENTAL, BUT I SWEAR MY MIND KNOWS MORE ABOUT THE PAIN THAN THE BODY THAT HOLDS IT.

     I constantly have three pills in my pocket. I'm at work and I have three pills in my pocket. I'm at work and I'm carrying drugs I should not need. One to stop the pain and two to stop the panic. That's still three times the recommended dose. You still give me three times the recommended dose. I still need three times the recommended dose.

     The trees and the sky, the sky just as blue as your eyes; and you say you don't understand why I wouldn't want to live forever, but how can I not want to die when forever was in your eyes? The trees weep your name and how can I live knowing they're dying just as slow as the respiratory rate of our love?

     YOU MAKE MY MIND FLIP AND MY STOMACH WHIRL AND THE ONE THING THEY NEVER MENTIONED ABOUT SUICIDE WAS THIS.

     I haven't slept in the past two twenty-four hour periods.

     I feel the rusty nail in my back as much as I feel the nail in my coffin. The rusty nail you pushed me against. I am buried alive. The dirt is beginning to smell like home.

     I drink caffeine to keep me awake. I drink too much caffeine to feel you in my chest. I still don't eat. If you were to touch me, you could feel every inch of my spine. And all this time I thought I was spineless.

     The only way I know I never loved you was when I tried to say your name, I would say someone else's.

     IT SOUNDED A LOT LIKE "HELP".

     If I were to forget you, maybe I could sleep. And then maybe my caffeine heart could take it's final beat.

****
Yes I said it
Because **** isn't Voldemort
He who shall not be named
And I'm not a victim
I'm not ashamed
I can say ****
And talk about it too
**** isn't a bad word
**** is Bad to do
The word **** didn't take away what was mine
The word **** didn't "forget" to ask this time
The word **** didn't make me take a hot shower because
God I feel gross
I feel like I'm a ****
I feel like it's all my fault
I feel like **** didn't do that at all
**** is a word that people
Who haven't been forced to do something I said no to
Tip toe around
Because "****"  might be a trigger word
When I say ****
Why do your eyes fall down
Why did my mom teach me to yell
Fire!
Instead of ****
I feel like you can see a fire
But you can't hear my fate?
Why is **** such a bad word
Can we talk about **** the way that we should

Things that remind me of him:
Target.
Stepping into Ikea and smelling the cafeteria food.
Long drives with the radio playing softly.
The rain, pooling up in my boots, the smell it leaves on my jacket, the way it tastes on my lips.
The north side of the mountain, the one that is perpetually foggy and jagged.
Throw pillows, tucked between my knees and alongside my back, emulating all the nights I used them to pretend he was there, holding me.
Tea kettles, their incessant knack for screaming at the worst times, when I finally sit back down and get comfortable.
Empty hospital rooms, sterile cleaning supplies and the times I would refresh my phone hoping he'd at least called.
The floor, specifically the grey and white carpet on the hardwood floor, how towards the end I just left the glass shards in it because I wanted to feel a sting.
The desert and the red dirt, how it ground between my toes when I finally figured it out.
Darting eyes and their need to validate inexcusable actions with the justification that it would all calm down eventually.
And finally, elevators, how my worst fear only seemed to be exacerbated with him by my side, trying to hold back laughter as he let go of my hand.