emma l 4h

the day i get into college,
my mother says she is proud of me.
her eyes water;
her little girl is growing up.
my hands shake in the passenger seat.
my eyes water for different reasons.

the day i go back to therapy,
my mother says she is proud of me.
she cries again --
it's a family trait --
and holds me in her arms.
i wonder how she could ever be proud of a child who is scared of recovery;
a child whose only discernible feature is the anxiety rocking in their chest.

the day i move into college,
my mother says she is proud of me.
she says it's a big step forward.
she appreciates that i'm taking a step out of my comfort zone.
i want to tell her that it's my comfort zone that's adapting to this new place,
not me.
my comfort zone is nervousness and never-ending panic;
it's just searching for new things to worry about.
goodbye is so hard.

i spend my first few weeks of college in a panic induced state;
weeks blur into one another and i stay in my dorm whenever possible.
i skip meals,
because the cafeteria is a long walk across thin ice.
everyone's staring at me,
this obese baby deer,
learning how to walk on legs that are too meek.
i sometimes call my mother in tears;
she says she is proud of me.
it's so refreshing to hear that it hurts.
there are wounds beneath my elbow where i took out the rattling of my bones during a meltdown in my design class;
they itch underneath the bandaids as she reassures me:
she's proud of me.

i can only imagine the look on her face if she sees what i've done to myself,
the seven shallow scars underneath my elbow.
i haven't done that in years.
will she pull me out of school?
realize the pressures of living is too heavy for me to wear right now?
too heavy for me in five years?
too heavy forever?
the word proud is lost on her lips;
replaced by the word sorry.
how could she ever be proud of a child who can't make phone calls without crying at least twice?
how could she ever be proud of a child who hyperventilates when a cafeteria worker scolds them for not using tongs?
how could she ever be proud of a child who found a frenzied comfort in a blade?
mama, are you proud?

probably way too personal

(I'm saying sorry first)
I'm sorry for everything i've ever said
I'm sorry for making you sad,
for making you mad

I'm so sorry if I ever disappointed you
If I hurt you
i'm sorry

I'm sorry i wasn't always there for you
Because I was being selfish and I was there for myself
I'm sorry for not listeing
When you needed me the most
I'm sorry

I'm sorry I'm the stupid one
I'm sorry
(I'm saying sorry last)

Sorry isn't enough Marie
Nadja 1d

Raw liver and butter
                           Soft and fragile
Like my heart

I'm sorry for that

Everybody is telling me
To just go with my heart
That is too dangerous a place
Because of I go with my heart
It will take a great leap of faith.

Am I ready to be with you?
Is that something I can do?

Trusting is just not easy for me
I want you here till the end
But for now all I can offer
Is being a friend

You are a most wonderful man
One that I treasure so
However tearing down my walls
Will be too hard for me to stand
So for now I have to let you go
Praying one day you'll come back around again

Mims 2d

I grabbed your hand jokingly
And you brought mine to your lips
I pulled away suddenly

"What are you doing?"

"I thought that maybe-"

"No honey, not if you bruise easy."

It's actually probably best if you don't touch me,
I'm not trying to be flirty.

I'm fucking gay.

The most painful times are the nights
When im alone
And in the day, in the crowd as I pass by

are you okay?
No, im always not okay
Especially when the question starts coming
And my heart starts racing

Here it is again
The cloud of the darkest shade
Thunders roar, screaming ‘you’ll always be alone’
‘You’ll never be enough’

I can’t breathe
I can’t sob, the noise will wake them up
I am alone and I’ll always be
I’ll just cry myself to sleep

are you okay?
What? I’ve heard that before
The voice kept asking
I’m tired, aren’t you?

The voice,
aren’t you tired?
You’re wasting your time on nothing
I am nothing

Am I selfish?
yes, yes you are
Am I lonely because I let myself be lonely?
I am sorry

Now, hey
Are you still there?
Can I assume we were friends?
Can I ask you

Did I ever hurt you?

To S. 09/16/17
Anon 3d

i hate you,
i hate the way that you beat me when i come home late
i hate the way you yell at me when your wrong
i hate that you are always mad
i hate that you think you are superior to me
but i love you,
i love that you love me
i love that you gave me life
i love that you support me in everything i do
i love that you would give anything for me to be happy
but despite all of this love and hate,
i can't be your favorite daughter
i can't pretend to love you when at times i can't like you
i can't support you anymore
and most of all
i can't continue to live with your suffocating, pestering, raw, unperceptive demenor.
i'm sorry

I love you but I can not tell you no matter how hard I try


For all the times I should have said,
          I love you very much.
For all the times I should have,
         Given a reassuring touch.
I do not make excuses now,
         On this great date of love.
But ask for your forgiveness,
         As God looks on from above.

This was written for my beloved husband on our anniversary,  one year after he had passed.
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