i don't remember much about you
i grew to forget how your face looks
or what i was attractive to  
i don't remember much about anything about sixth grade
i try to not remember anything about sixth grade

but i remember
december being colder because of you
crying on christmas because of you
my mom driving me to my first therapy season because of you
the heartbreak i caused because of you
the friends i lost because of you  
the people i have hurt because of you
the hurt endured because of you
how everything hurts because of you

you don’t know the hurt
you never and will never know the hurt
you don’t even remember me
that is so unfair
you get to hurt and break and wreak me but
you get to forget me
forget how you touched me for the first time
forget how subtle you made it seem
forget how many times
forget how you took advantage of me

i wish i could forget that i loved you
i loved you
i once loved you
but how could that be  
                                                          how could you love the person
                                                          who took advantage of you?
                                                          how could you be so naive?
                                                          how could you be so stupid?

but i was twelve
how couldn’t i have been that stupid and nieve when i was twelve
i wasn’t even educated on what they were doing until i was a month shy of thirteen
therefore a twelve-year-old couldn’t have gone through that
therefore it is not real
therefore i lied

and so you continue
yet, i
i said stop
i said stop to you
i said i love you
but you should have of stopped.
you never stopped.
please stop.

then when you finally left
you did not take every piece of her
you left her hands
cold
freezing
winter
decemeber
hands
on my body
in my mind
and
i was left with the mess you made
the mess of everything you never and will never know about
and everything i am stuck remembering
the night my parents found me
you will never know why i was absent
you will never know the pain you've caused
the mess you have made
but i cleaned it up
by myself
because the people who could have stopped it
decided it was not real
it was not real
it
was
not
real
i wish you were not real

i am angry about what you did
and how you don’t even remember sixth grade
and how i am stuck with the aftermath
days, months, years, after
i don’t remember who i once fell in love with
or what i was attractive to
but i remember your touch
and the anger
the sadness,
the long-winded depression,
the loneliness,
the feeling of being useless
and unworthy
and the attempts,
and the pills,
and the scars,
and everything
but mostly, i wish i could remember you like the way you don’t remember the hurt, the break, and the wreckage you caused me.


                                                - to you, in hopes you one day understand the pain i felt and the ghost that will never leave because of the sadness you have caused me

One time I wrote a poem about you and it went viral
Now 6,000 people know you treated me like I was garbage
Now 6,000 people know how you hurt me without using your hands
Now 6,000 people are aware that you damaged my mental health more than anyone else
Now 6,000 people know that you made me cry every single day
Now 6,000 people felt my pain through my words
Now 6,000 people get to know that you did not lay a hand on me but still left me abused and scarred

One time I wrote a poem about you and it was so well received
Now 6,000 people support my every day struggle to stay strong
Now 6,000 people have shown love to me even though they do not even know my last name
Now 6,000 people are there for me in ways you never were
Now 6,000 people are able to talk about how they felt the way I felt and never want to feel those aches again
Now 6,000 people may have the courage to battle a villain like you
Now 6,000 people may be able to stand up to severe abuse like I finally was able to

Anxiety is not cute, and it is not fun
Anxiety is not something to make light of and to pretend you have for giggles
Anxiety is suffering
Anxiety is waking up at 3 in the morning because I am so sick to my stomach that it wakes me up for an hour
Anxiety is my skin breaking out in hives so severe that I break the skin and bruise and bleed because I am scratching so **** hard
Anxiety is when I try to sleep at midnight but am still awake at 5:30 in the morning and I still try to count down to the second exactly how much sleep I will get tonight
Anxiety is when I cannot bring myself to eat even though it has been 31 hours since my last meal
Anxiety is waking up in the middle of slumber because I thought of what I should have said in an argument four days prior
Anxiety is how it is noon and I cannot bring myself to get out of bed and make my day real
Anxiety is how I have made myself feel like I am going insane and I feel like my breaths are short and nothing feels right
Anxiety is how things do not go the exact way I planned them to and I sit there contemplating crying for the whole day
Anxiety is how I feel myself acting like I am crazy and I feel that I am not me and yet I cannot change the way I react
Stop trying to make anxiety cute
It is not romantic
It is not adorable
It is not fun
Anxiety is what prevents me from living a normal life
Anxiety is what drives me out of my mind

Trigger Warning you scream before pulling the trigger
Trigger Warning, again, you scream
And I can only wonder
When is a warning a warning?

dear younger me,

congratulations! you made it to the end of formal schooling
you probably have tons of questions for me,
but i have a few for you
dear me, what's it like to play everyday
what's it like to play computer games
what's it like to go to the playground
dear me, what's it like to be able to handle school
to be able to actually be ahead of work
and spend most of the time not studying
dear me, what's it like to be happy everyday
to be able to smile at the smallest thing
to always love your life
dear me, what's it like
to not care about what others think
of how you look, what you say
dear me, what's it like
to not have the expectations of everyone
burden your shoulders
dear me, what's it like
to not have (almost) daily thoughts
of not wanting to be alive
dear me, what's it like
to run away from an approaching car
instead of wanting to walk in front of it
dear me, what's it like
to always sleep happily
and not have to hide your tears
when everyone's asleep
dear me, what's it like to live?
to want to live, to love being alive
dear me, please be strong
there will be days when
you don't want to live (yes, appalling)
you don't want to smile (how)
you don't want anything
please hang in there
there will be days when
there's only one thing
stopping you from ending it all
please, please be strong

sincerely,
me

is it never enough
yes, i know
you mean it as a joke
poke fun at me, sure
but you will never
ever know the state of
my mind
how broken i am
how badly i'm affected, that
your joke is why
i cry myself to sleep (three times now)
your joke is why
i force myself not to cry in school (several times today)
your joke is why
i can't say another word (five times)

is my life too easy in your eyes
do i not have enough to deal with
must you add more, maybe
you want to push me, see how
much it takes until i break

oh you have no idea
i'm already dying