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Amanda Stoddard Jul 2015
Relapse. Rebuild. Repeat.
Relapse. Rebuild. Repeat.
Relapse. Rebuild. Repeat.

You were destined to be like your father.
7 months sober
the cycle etched inside your bones took hold
and you turned into that girl again.
You tell yourself you just like the taste
but each sip gets more bitter to swallow.
Self-Sabotage is your second nature,
Self-Control is the first.
But sometimes they forget their place in line
switching roles they both know so well
just to see if they can adapt.

Relapse.
Self-Control took a paid vacation
and I'm stuck doing the paperwork.

Rebuild.
Because losing yourself happens way too often
with a mind built on inconsistency like mine.

Repeat.
The same mistake until eventually you learn-
you've never really been one to lose control.

Repeat.
Until this feeling of shame takes you over
and you realize-
addiction can happen even with your eyes closed.
You can try to run from its grasp
but the 40 bottle is heavy
and your heart is too-
so you drink in hopes to fill that empty hole
that makes every emotion feel so sinking-
to fill that empty hole again and again
so eventually you feel whole.
What does whole feel like?

Repeat.
Until the cycle doesn't feel routine.

Repeat.
Until you ******* get it right
and you don't need to repeat the same
******* mistakes.

Rebuild.
Because repetition doesn't need to happen
more than twice.

Rebuild.
Until this is the last step you take
to building your backbone.
Stand up straight.
written on 7/18/15
Elise Jul 2015
Triggers everywhere,
reminding me of you,
of me,
of everything we had.
The trigger's pulled,
the flashbacks go boom, boom.
Killing me,
relentlessly.
Tearing me apart inside,
but on the outside, I look fine.
My mind plays a heartless game,
I can't take much more,
I wish I could just die.
Breathing fast,
heart racing.
Look around the room.
Hold it together, it'll pass.
But soon that rationale is gone,
I'm dying.
Full on panic, fight or flight gone wrong.
Just wanna curl up in a ball, cry, die.
I just can't take it anymore, you're everywhere.
The smallest things bring it back,
make me wanna quit,
give up on the little bit I have left, that little bit of life.
I'm going insane cause of the pain,
I cry out,
no one's listening,
I'm screaming now,
why can't anybody hear me?
It's like I'm drowning, while watching everyone else breathe.
I put the trigger to my head, and pull.
Boom, boom.
And this time, there’s beautiful silence.
Elise Jul 2015
When you were little, you played with toys in this room. But now, you play with razors.
Instead of drawing with crayons, you draw with razors.
I always knew I'd grow out of my toys someday, but I never thought I'd replace them with razors.
The razors dance across my skin, carving a story only I can understand.
These razors are my toys now.
Sitting in my childhood room, blood flowing from my wrists and tears pouring from my cheeks,
I wonder why I had to grow up.
Elise Jul 2015
Every night the tears fell,
only to be silenced by sleep.
Scarred wrists,
cuts of passion.
Battle wounds from the raging war against herself.

Each morning her eyes would open,
each night when she closed them she’d pray they wouldn’t,
eternal peace, eternal peace.
Another day lived in pain,
drowning while watching everyone else around her breathe.

Her biggest fear is herself,
terrified she’s going to **** herself or someone else.
She looks in the mirror,
the face she sees is not her own.
But what did she know about dreams coming true?
Reality took her childhood and pumped it full of lead,
leaving her surrounded by the smoldering pieces of her hopes and dreams.
A single tear rolls down her cheek,
drips onto the floor.
Barely audible, she whispered aloud,
“I thought growing up was supposed to be beautiful.”
grace Jun 2015
I haven't weighed myself, cut myself, wrote a letter, starved, hid under the covers, or detached from the people I love
in about a month
and change feels good
but soon if I don't do something
I'll be back where I started
being tossed around like a rag doll by god, the universe, or whoever the **** is in control
and my stitches will come undone, my black button eyes will start to fall out, and I'll be left under the bed with no life left in me
always anxious Jun 2015
I've always been obsessed with bones

When i was only 10 years old i saw a beautiful woman with extremely skinny, long and straight legs.
I wanted to be like her.

As long as i can remember i've always looked at peoples collarbones.
My friends says i'm obsessed with bones.

"How many coins can you stack on your collarbones?
I can stack 23 on each.
Wanna see a picture?"

If you want to look skinnier,
push back your *** and lean a bit forward.
That way you'll appear to have a thigh gap.

When i get anxious,
i rub the places on my body where i can feel bones.
It calms me to know i still have them

If you want to lose weight.
Starving is a great idea.
Drink water to fill you up, and burn at least 800 calories a day.

When i feel sad, i hit myself.
I don't like cutting, not anymore.
Bruising is much better.
The bonier you are the faster you bruise.

Everyone relates to a skeleton.
xkx Jun 2015
i used to worry about my screen time
but that was before i had to worry about my scream time
then, screen time meant 'keep me clean time'
and now im left with no time.

you see - i keep telling myself its high time
that i stop dancing in this rhyme line
and start acting like its my time

that this life line
(that was actually a knife line)
is not something that i should want to see online.
always anxious Jun 2015
I'm not sick, i don't have an eating disorder and i'm not getting "too thin"

It's not like i lose a lot of weight.. Maybe 3-4 pounds a week.
But then i gain it back and lose a little more the next time.

My demons laugh, everytime i resist a piece of food.
They're proud of me, cause i'm still standing. Even after being empty for so long.

I'm not sick, i don't have an eating disorder, and i'm not getting "too thin"
I'm becoming a better me
always anxious Jun 2015
At least you're recovering they said
"At least you're better now"

Well.. If i'm better now.
Why do i write the same ****** poems as i did last year?
And why are they exactly tas depressing as the old ones?
Why do i wait for tears that won't roll?
And why do i listen to my playlist, that's filled with depressing songs about suicide?
And why do i weigh the same as i did a year ago?
Why do i think about razor blades and matches?

I'm not better now.
Actually i'm worse than before.
The only thing i'm good at is having nervous breakdowns and hurting myself.
But i keep lying to make you feel good, cause it makes you happy to know that i'm "better now"
always anxious Jun 2015
Everyone thinks i recovered months ago, that i'm so so happy and have no problems.

Cause i'm the girl watching mlp, and listening to songs about smiling and laughing.

But what they don't know is that at home i listen to songs about depression and eating disorders .

I no longer cut, cause i haven't felt the need to for a while, and i no longer starve, i just forget it sometimes.

Sometimes i forget that i'm recovering.
And i simply don't think about eating.
Or about singing the smile song when my friends are sad.

It's like i'm pinkie pie, sometimes i'm happy, but sometimes i also forget that i'm a party pony

I try to look my best, and people can't tell how sad i get every now and then.
Cause i try.. I really do..
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