It starts on day one

The hardest moment in your life.
Is stepping up.
Throwing away the blades.
Flushing the pills.
Breaking the lighters.
Healing the wounds.

Day one is the most important.
Right after day two.

But my darling.
What if I don't make it to day one?

If someone tells you I love you,
Run them through triathlons while holding your hand.
Make them listen with their eyes closed to your singing voice,
When they tell you they love it watch for the formation of sweat beads at the edge of their hair line.
Have them catch you off a twenty story building
And then drive you to the hospital.
Wait in the ER for five hours without a cell phone to play games on,
Make sure they kiss your fingers while you cry in agony.
Starve with them for five days
While you survive off of nothing but salty tears and tender knee hugs.
Watch your favorite movie with them fifty times in thirty days.
Go out to your favorite restaurant five times in one week,
And most importantly,
Loop your favorite album on replay for 78 hours.
Buy five dogs and walk them through miles and kilometers of bike trails.
Have every single argument possible
Until you run out of things to disagree on,
Then bring every issue up again the next morning.
Get drunk together and say every possible ****** up thing that you don't mean.
File for a mortgage.
Agree on how many kids you both want.
Go through the loss of a family member together,
And convert to separate religions.

But most of all, make sure they really mean it.

I'm seventeen.
I have scars lining my ribs, my thighs, my arms and my mind.
I either count my calories or blur them altogether; 500 a day or 4000 a day.
I am not an athlete.
I have no illnesses.
I've never been diagnosed.
I've simply been attempting to be the woman I've been demanded I be.
I'm failing, miserably.
Right now:
My mom is unconscious, failing to drown herself in alcohol.
My sister has locked herself in her room, isolating.
My dad is telling my neighbors their views are wrong,
And I am lying in bed, binge eating.
I'm seventeen.
This poem really does not have a beat.
This poem is a flow,
steadier than my self esteem.
Mirrors lie and pictures steal.
TV taunts and horror is real,
I'm seventeen and
I've tried to die,
I've learned to lie
To family.
I'm no stranger to the sisters death and night.
Death;
gives and takes, reaping the soil with the bodies of the ill
bodied,
minded,
hearted.
Night;
darkens the world, honing in on those I was promised I could turn to,
reminding them I am no refuge, I am ill
bodied,
minded,
hearted.
I'm seventeen and
My hands shake at the thought of losing my balance,
Ironic seeing as I won't even be standing
But the thought of disappointing you
Throws me down without hesitation.
I'm seventeen.

****.
I'm seventeen.

I remember when I was cautious. I used to drink in moderation. I used to keep track of the pills I took. I used to read warning labels. I used to kiss people I loved. I used to smoke on rare occasions. I used to sleep every night. I used to eat three meals a day. I'm reckless. Everything in my life has changed. The only thing I am careful of now is you

I'm cautious to a fault
I've never stared down
The barrel of a gun
I've never held
A blade to my wrists
But I've thought about it.

I was never a girl of extremes
I've never drunk
Poison until I passed out
I've never let my lips
Inhale ash
But I contemplated it.

I was never careless
After a few painful infatuations
And unrequited feelings
I fell in love
And this time, he loves me too
But somehow my heart is still fractured.

I cannot help but wonder
How someone so sensible
So careful
Can still be so messed up
When they have done nothing but
Tread without fault.

The thoughts and feelings
That I do my best to ignore
Stifle me, suffocate me
Even overwhelm me, sometimes
I'm cautious to a fault
And it terrifies me.