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..

It's been a few years,
since I picked up that blade
determined to slice the sadness
out of my viens.
Ridges and indentions
of scar tissue
litter my body.
Yet, even now,
when I get really down,
I still want to add to my collection.
I am starkly aware
that it's not right,
not at all; but,
nothing else works quite as well.
Besides...
perhaps it's a punishment, too.
One that I deserve.


(d.d.b)

Life is a big ball of yarn.
Each passing second being
braided into the past,
the present being set in
stone and the future
keeps changing.

I feel my body turning into
dust. Instead of just
floating in the life I've
been given, the yarn
pulls strands of my hair,
pulls dead skin off my
pillow. It pulls my tears
and drops of blood away.
It moves bits and pieces
of me into history.
I feel myself decaying.

They no longer know
who I am. I feel
like saying, "People change
when they know they're
dying."

The world becomes black
and white and clouds
are shadows. Lights become
the sun and the sun
is just another
rotting planet.
    The world is decaying.
    Trees all dead, leaning with
    leaves made of dead skin.
    All the yellow dandelions
    higher than the stoner downstairs.
    The white weeds don't have
    seeds. Just acid leaking
    out of them and the
    smoke we breath out reeks
    of lost hope and dead
    promises.

Do not ask me why
I reply so slowly.
It's because honestly
nobody speaks loudly
enough for me to hear
over the screaming
of people drowning in my
stomach acid.

    I can see his shadow
even in the dark.
The demon not with
horns or fangs.
No tail, his reflection
shows and pictures can
be taken.
    Just another twisted
    thought inside my mind.

I feel his arsenic breath
get closer with each passing
day.
    He will not leave me
alone until he can tie my
phalanges together. Have
a crown of my broken
bones to show that he is
the king of my skeleton.

    I feel him inside my
skin crawling, faster than
my slowing heart beat. He
survives in my battery
acid blood. He thrives
off my scorched insides.
You see hell is his home.
He's at peace with death.
    His mind is twisted more
than my body when
    he ****** me.

He demanded a queen but
when he got a servant
he took advantage of my
calloused hands and bruised
mind.
    You see this man
    was no king.
    Just a black market
    dealer
      who didn't know how
      to keep his hands off
      of the merchandise.

   He never had any customers
   but broken girls.
   So when I was whole
   he was intrigued.
     I was a box
     he took everything out.
     Broke me down,
     laughed as the trashman
     took me to next town.

I've said before
that you don't know
me.
But I'm pretty
sure that I don't
know myself either.
I've changed so much in
the past week that
my skin has become
tarnished.
He destroyed my insides
and put holes on my
outsides. I've extended
the damage he did by
dwelling on it.
His face engraved in
my brain
and his name tattooed
under my tongue
like a ***** secret
you have to bite on.

I remember his voice,
and the record gets stuck.
The world around me
disappears and I can
see him holding me down
trying so hard to get into
my pants.
He told me I shouldn't
be scared.
My hands were above
my head and I couldn't
wipe away the tears.

He let me go and I ran
trying to go home.
He held me, told me
it was okay and
to stay.

He grew like mold inside
me.
I want to say it's my
fault I let the infection
grow this big.
I saw all the signs but
I never tried to get
rid of it.
I was mercury and he
was room temperature.
I melted in his seemingly
normal presence.

When people spoke
I never listened.
I thought I deserved
to rot in my own ****.

I got worse with my
victim mind set.
I let him soak into
my skin not caring if
it made my insides rot.

He still lives under my
skin. Like tapeworms he
makes my stomach crawl.

I saw him as a knight
but little did I know he
got his armour from party city.
He dressed up for me
at first.
Then he started wearing a different
mask.
He got controlling.
I broke his curtain
tumbling through a window
and he hit me.

Flashbacks like car lights
in front of my eyes.
I stand in it reveling
at the thought that I
can handle a car hitting me.

My mind is so intertwined
with his body
I feel his hands
gripping my wrists.

Like wives were buried.
with their husbands
and never mentioned.
I am still under his
thumb and my ashes
will be spread over
his grave to symbolize
how he engulfed me.

I'm sitting in my bed
Listening to depressing music.
Just like i do every night.
I'm writing the same poem, over and over again.
It's about suicide.
The sweet thought about being dead.

But i've been trying so hard, for so long.
And no one seems to really care about me.
When i talk i am often just ignored.
I'm teased for being different, and when i tell my teachers that i don't feel too well mentally, they're like "oooh you're just so sensitive"

And i just can't take that **** anymore..
Everyone thinks it's so easy to be me, cause i always seem so happy.
But i have a hard time even faking it anymore..

I've tried way too hard, for way too long, to make people like me.
But i'm giving up..

My name is LITTLE LADY and I am ten years old visiting family. Your eyes hungrily take in my young body and your truck slows down and my heart pounds in my chest. You yell horrible things at me and tears sting my eyes and I run all the way home. I dare not stop to see if you’re following, that would give you an unfair advantage.
My name is SWEET THING and I am twelve years old and we are all here to honor him. Do you have no respect for where we are? Evidently not as you grip my shoulder with an alarming force and I hide in the bathroom while the service carries on. My mother will be furious later that I missed my best friend’s funeral but I’m sure JP would understand mum, I’m sure he would understand how frightened I was.
My name is CHEEKY and I am thirteen years old at the beach with my family. You untie my bikini top and throw it out to the lake. I am mortified and they are laughing and you are laughing and I don’t know how to cope. I cover myself with the last bit of dignity I can muster as my father repeats the four words that have been their excuse for ages, “Boys will be boys”
My name is ***** JUST LOOK AT ME and I am fifteen years old, words to you that means “old enough”. I am livid but you have the advantage with your size and I cannot defend myself. I hold my keys tight in my fist and bare my teeth like a wolf. I am afraid but the anger rises higher than fear.
My name is ******* and I am seventeen years old. I am strong and unafraid, but with every call I am suddenly ten years old again and running away from the man in the truck. I am strong; so strong, and I must defend myself because no one else will. I must defend myself because no man will ever have the satisfaction of saying they were the one that broke me. I must defend myself because I should never be afraid to walk alone.

Dear 10 year old me.

You have the prettiest pigtails, and glowing brown eyes.
You're so sweet, and you care about everyone, they all bully you because you're different.
They think you're "too happy"

Eventually you'll start to fwel lonely.
And you'll sink into depression, you'll feel worthless, and you're just 10 and a half.
You'll start hating your own reflection.
At 11 you'll go on a diet, and at 12 you'll stop eating anything at all.
And with the starvation comes self mutilation.
You'll make scars, that'll stay for the rest of your life, but you'll learn to look at them as a part of you, and everyone else will too.

Your childhood friend, Emma, whom you never really talked to before, will become a very big part of your life.
She'll help you through your ****.
You'll relate to each other, cause she's in the exact same ****.
She'll find it a bit harder to get out though.
But just keep helping her please, and stay in contact with her for gods sake, please stay in contact with her..

People will stop talking to you, unless they need something, or want to call you ugly.
Don't help them, they'll all leave when they find someone better.
You're 13 years old and so ******* naive.
Two girls will help you through when your classmates lock the door and say that "they don't have room for a *****"
But you'll leave them, just like everyone else left you once.
Don't do that. Those giels are the kind of people you want to hold onto, the kind of people who pick you up when you're down.
You'll be diagnosed with social anxiety and schizoid personality disorder.
Hell.. Even bipolar disorder and anorexia..
You'll wanna die at points
But it'll be ok, i promise you.

You're 14 years old, and you've never had a boyfriend, but it doesn't matter, cause the one you get will be bad for you.
He'll tell you that you're ugly, and he'll try to touch you places you don't wanna be touched, even though you push him away.

Your weight is dangerously low. 40 kg, it'll get a bit lower, but please get better soon, cause your body will still not be stable when you're 15 and a half.
You'll say to yourself that you'll stop cutting, but you can't keep that, you'll be clean for 10 months, but you'll break it, but a good thing is, that you'll stop again.

Leave Kathrine alone, she'll try to ruin your life.
And even though you get in a new class, they'll still all think that you're a *****, a **** up, a ******.
People will still bully you, and stare at you in disgust.
People will still ask you for favors, and then just leave you.

That Ike guy.. Don't trust him, he'll leave you just like wveryone else, he'll ask for favors just like everyone else did, but he won't fight for you when he needs to.
And don't make that instagram, your parents will find out.
And you'll miss the friends you had on there.
You'll miss your 2K followers.

Jp.. I warn you, don't even talk to him.. He's a violent **** up..
He might seem nice for the first couple of weeks, but it'll change.. Drastically, he'll hit you, kick you, call you stuff.

On the other hand, you make a really good friend when you quit choir, and start japanese lessons instead.
He'll treat you like a princess. His princess.
He'll be one of the people you should keep around, and i really hope you do.
Cause now you're a lot smarter than you were back then.
He can even convince you that you actually do look alright.
He can make you want to recover by just saying three words "i love you"
Date him, and trust him.
It won't do you wrong.

And i promise, that everything might look dark right now, you're just a lonely 10 year old girl afterall, things will get worse.
A lot worse.
But they'll get better, and you'll feel loved.
I promise you.

Yesterday morning I remembered the comfort of hunger pains.
I ate as little as possible at lunch,
and didn't eat when I got home.

For the first time in almost a year,
I skipped dinner
and looked at photos of bodies I wanted to have.

For so long I was able to eat without worry,
and I never thought about skipping meals,
I was able to change the idea of a "weight goal"
To simply having a goal to be happy.

What is happening to me?