#trich - Hello Poetry

I know you want to, I know you need to, Catch and pull again, Catch and pull again, I'm telling you- Everything's gonna be alright. Just draw another line Above the eye, Again, Catch and pull again, Scratch and pull again, Brown pencil smeared-... A threat, To the norms of beauty. Whyever did you do it? A fear they're gonna see you as you are, Is part of the morning routine. Does the pillow have What the face should hold in? And do eyelashes grow From one magic roll of woven hair, And does it ever end, And will I know it? I am afraid... Is this the part when, I go to the mirror and say, The most genuine "sorry"? I might as well just save it, What a glory! Hot mess with dark circles, With patches, Best, Just save your breath, I know you're phony. I am myself's Worst **** girlfriend, Cheating and then saying I'm sorry... Just to fall again. I have lost faith. In what I say. Oh, what a story... I have to buy more eyeliner, And brown eyebrow pencil. Mental note: One day you'll be above it.

0

Jun 22, 2018

Jun 22, 2018 at 2:54 AM UTC

Elma

I'm Sorry

I know you want to, I know you need to, Catch and pull again, Catch and pull again, I'm telling you- Everything's gonna be alright. Just draw another line Above the eye, Again, Catch and pull again, Scratch and pull again, Brown pencil smeared-... A threat, To the norms of beauty. Whyever did you do it? A fear they're gonna see you as you are, Is part of the morning routine. Does the pillow have What the face should hold in? And do eyelashes grow From one magic roll of woven hair, And does it ever end, And will I know it? I am afraid... Is this the part when, I go to the mirror and say, The most genuine "sorry"? I might as well just save it, What a glory! Hot mess with dark circles, With patches, Best, Just save your breath, I know you're phony. I am myself's Worst **** girlfriend, Cheating and then saying I'm sorry... Just to fall again. I have lost faith. In what I say. Oh, what a story... I have to buy more eyeliner, And brown eyebrow pencil. Mental note: One day you'll be above it.

45

When I weep I remember Unplucked eyelashes Arms free from scars Boxes full of bandages Bottles full of pills I remember Unbitten nails The skin on my Elbows Knees Lips When I weep I mourn the pieces of me My past poisoned

0

Mar 22, 2018

Mar 22, 2018 at 9:20 PM UTC

ranae

Graveyard

When I weep I remember Unplucked eyelashes Arms free from scars Boxes full of bandages Bottles full of pills I remember Unbitten nails The skin on my Elbows Knees Lips When I weep I mourn the pieces of me My past poisoned

14

Today is the day National mental health day One of the many days I regret I should speak out I want to But my mental illness has me chained So instead I pull Pull my way closer But the chains keep me back Closer to the truth Closer to the hesitation For me, pulling is my release I read online that the rough ones- With black bulbs were bad ones The “wicked witch” ones So I started Pulling out my fears, Doubts, Insecurities From my head- one by one Until I laid there helpless In a cloud of my mistakes Somehow seeing all my worries in front of me didn’t make them go away Instead, I became more aware More aware of my failures For the unknown future that lies in store One by one October 23, 2016 I kept the receipts A friend- not a close one, more of those friends of friends She chose me to tell her story to She was ***** By a guy we all knew and trusted A “good guy” I lent her an ear, or rather a willing text I thanked her for her bravery For allowing me to be a small fraction of her story of overcoming I might be one of twenty she told, or maybe just two I don’t know. I may never know. But what she may not know is that night She became my one Someone I knew almost nothing about I told her my story and asked how she told her first I hoped of getting some of her strength through some sort of Twitter DM telepathy Alas you can’t gift strength like that Oh God, I wish you could I go back and read those messages all the time trying I read my TimeHop every day Sometimes for the memories But more often than not they bring back the nightmares I do it for the relief The streak number tick ticking higher Counting the days that have gone by Or the hairs I’ve pulled Tomorrow is National Coming Out Day Is there a day like this for those who came out to their loved ones about their mental illness? I will also not be participating. My mental illness is keeping me from doing so I am buried deep in my closet, hiding under clothes and forgotten tags My fingers raking through the carpet Finding that momentary release The glorious relief lasting a moment I run my fingers through the rough fibers searching for more My family doesn’t know Or if they do, they don’t want to break our perfect mold I pull discretely Around my head, just a receding hairline, no bald patches Yet I never get my haircut At least, by a professional The last time I went, my stylist said it was new growth Not my past coming to haunt me. She pulls at them showing me, calling them baby hairs How do I tell her that each one represents shame, frustration, guilt Each one represents one party, one good time with friends I’ve missed Hiding behind those fears, covered in guilt Back in my closeted mind Sometimes, I wonder what would happen if I cut myself open Would blood run out or the words I meant to say? When it’s a bad day, I pull at large sections of my hair Wondering what it would be like to rip it all out in two sections It makes me cry in pain, but the voices tell me about the sweet relief it may bring I almost give in What hurts me the most is noticing the people around me who have it Does the girl sitting in front of me know One day she may have to get surgery To remove the hairball in her stomach from eating at her hair? I see her run it through her lips, feeling the same texture. Does the boy, scratching away at his knuckles Understand what’s underneath his skin? I wonder what his blood would say Would it tell my story? Would it tell ours?

0

Oct 11, 2017

Oct 11, 2017 at 11:11 PM UTC

trackgirl3

Pulling

Today is the day National mental health day One of the many days I regret I should speak out I want to But my mental illness has me chained So instead I pull Pull my way closer But the chains keep me back Closer to the truth Closer to the hesitation For me, pulling is my release I read online that the rough ones- With black bulbs were bad ones The “wicked witch” ones So I started Pulling out my fears, Doubts, Insecurities From my head- one by one Until I laid there helpless In a cloud of my mistakes Somehow seeing all my worries in front of me didn’t make them go away Instead, I became more aware More aware of my failures For the unknown future that lies in store One by one October 23, 2016 I kept the receipts A friend- not a close one, more of those friends of friends She chose me to tell her story to She was ***** By a guy we all knew and trusted A “good guy” I lent her an ear, or rather a willing text I thanked her for her bravery For allowing me to be a small fraction of her story of overcoming I might be one of twenty she told, or maybe just two I don’t know. I may never know. But what she may not know is that night She became my one Someone I knew almost nothing about I told her my story and asked how she told her first I hoped of getting some of her strength through some sort of Twitter DM telepathy Alas you can’t gift strength like that Oh God, I wish you could I go back and read those messages all the time trying I read my TimeHop every day Sometimes for the memories But more often than not they bring back the nightmares I do it for the relief The streak number tick ticking higher Counting the days that have gone by Or the hairs I’ve pulled Tomorrow is National Coming Out Day Is there a day like this for those who came out to their loved ones about their mental illness? I will also not be participating. My mental illness is keeping me from doing so I am buried deep in my closet, hiding under clothes and forgotten tags My fingers raking through the carpet Finding that momentary release The glorious relief lasting a moment I run my fingers through the rough fibers searching for more My family doesn’t know Or if they do, they don’t want to break our perfect mold I pull discretely Around my head, just a receding hairline, no bald patches Yet I never get my haircut At least, by a professional The last time I went, my stylist said it was new growth Not my past coming to haunt me. She pulls at them showing me, calling them baby hairs How do I tell her that each one represents shame, frustration, guilt Each one represents one party, one good time with friends I’ve missed Hiding behind those fears, covered in guilt Back in my closeted mind Sometimes, I wonder what would happen if I cut myself open Would blood run out or the words I meant to say? When it’s a bad day, I pull at large sections of my hair Wondering what it would be like to rip it all out in two sections It makes me cry in pain, but the voices tell me about the sweet relief it may bring I almost give in What hurts me the most is noticing the people around me who have it Does the girl sitting in front of me know One day she may have to get surgery To remove the hairball in her stomach from eating at her hair? I see her run it through her lips, feeling the same texture. Does the boy, scratching away at his knuckles Understand what’s underneath his skin? I wonder what his blood would say Would it tell my story? Would it tell ours?

93

Lost control... Urges like pins and needles pierce and numb First finger and thumb move with misplaced enthusiasm

0

Apr 13, 2017

Apr 13, 2017 at 6:26 PM UTC

benjamin-a-s

Trich Tock Trich

Lost control... Urges like pins and needles pierce and numb First finger and thumb move with misplaced enthusiasm

7

He tells me: *" ***** yourself with a needle, it will have the same effect"* As if I am trying to harm myself. He does not understand this does not hurt me, at least not physically. It has become a joke now - but I'm not laughing. It isnt funny, it isnt a joke. His ignorance sears into me, he thinks I have forgotten I have not.

0

Dec 7, 2016

Dec 7, 2016 at 2:19 PM UTC

raquel-butler

#1

He tells me: *" ***** yourself with a needle, it will have the same effect"* As if I am trying to harm myself. He does not understand this does not hurt me, at least not physically. It has become a joke now - but I'm not laughing. It isnt funny, it isnt a joke. His ignorance sears into me, he thinks I have forgotten I have not.

14

I know I've said it, a million times before, I'll stop this time, next time, just once more. I know it's hard to believe me when every time I'm good, my mentality starts to plummet, once more becomes next year. I know you want to see me succeed, but it's hard when every time I do, you see no success, you see no change, my failures become the truth. I know, I really do. But the last time becomes the next time all because of you.

0

Jul 29, 2016

Jul 29, 2016 at 1:53 AM UTC

raquel-butler

the last time

I know I've said it, a million times before, I'll stop this time, next time, just once more. I know it's hard to believe me when every time I'm good, my mentality starts to plummet, once more becomes next year. I know you want to see me succeed, but it's hard when every time I do, you see no success, you see no change, my failures become the truth. I know, I really do. But the last time becomes the next time all because of you.

22

Lately I find myself wanting to talk about my trichotillomania. I think I want to find someone else that knows what I'm going through. I have never talked about it on social media except one time. And someone thought I had an STD simply because they were uninformed. Embarrassed and ashamed I quickly deleted it. I shouldn't be ashamed. Or embarrassed. It's relevant. And real. So, pretty much if you have trich or just want someone to talk to about it, please comment or message me. I know that isn't what this website is for, But I feel most comfortable here. And you can too.

0

Aug 9, 2015

Aug 9, 2015 at 1:02 AM UTC

paigexx

Trichotillomania

Lately I find myself wanting to talk about my trichotillomania. I think I want to find someone else that knows what I'm going through. I have never talked about it on social media except one time. And someone thought I had an STD simply because they were uninformed. Embarrassed and ashamed I quickly deleted it. I shouldn't be ashamed. Or embarrassed. It's relevant. And real. So, pretty much if you have trich or just want someone to talk to about it, please comment or message me. I know that isn't what this website is for, But I feel most comfortable here. And you can too.

22

When did I get this way? Was it my first lapse in judgement? Was it the first time I was so terrified of going to school I had a panic attack? Was it the first time I pulled? Was it on any of the numerous nights I broke down alone and afraid of who I was? When did I get this way? It scares me to know I've been this way forever.

0

Aug 8, 2015

Aug 8, 2015 at 2:05 AM UTC

raquel-butler

When

When did I get this way? Was it my first lapse in judgement? Was it the first time I was so terrified of going to school I had a panic attack? Was it the first time I pulled? Was it on any of the numerous nights I broke down alone and afraid of who I was? When did I get this way? It scares me to know I've been this way forever.

9

You wonder why I won't stop, But do you wonder why I ever started? Do you ever wonder how I feel? Do you ever wonder if I have tried? Do you ever wonder that I have cried? Do you ever wonder that I almost have died? Do you ever wonder why I have survived? Do you ever for a second wonder that I can't? Do you ever wonder? You wonder not.

0

Mar 1, 2015

Mar 1, 2015 at 10:50 PM UTC

raquel-butler

Do you ever wonder?

You wonder why I won't stop, But do you wonder why I ever started? Do you ever wonder how I feel? Do you ever wonder if I have tried? Do you ever wonder that I have cried? Do you ever wonder that I almost have died? Do you ever wonder why I have survived? Do you ever for a second wonder that I can't? Do you ever wonder? You wonder not.

10

When you leave I fear I will pluck each strand of hair From my entire head And produce so many tears That I dry up like desert sand And blow away in the arid breeze. I am nothing. Until you come back, And take the time To braid the hairs together, And collect each grain of sand. Nutella-sticky fingers glue me all into one piece With squeezey hugs and blanket fort cuddles. And I'll forget you ever even left.

0

Mar 28, 2014

Mar 28, 2014 at 4:46 PM UTC

xok

When You Leave, I Am Nothing

When you leave I fear I will pluck each strand of hair From my entire head And produce so many tears That I dry up like desert sand And blow away in the arid breeze. I am nothing. Until you come back, And take the time To braid the hairs together, And collect each grain of sand. Nutella-sticky fingers glue me all into one piece With squeezey hugs and blanket fort cuddles. And I'll forget you ever even left.

14

Inside my brain There is a tornado Spinning to infinity and beyond. God only knows how fast. My shoulders ache and my feet cramp. My wrists click And my eyes go damp. Inside my brain instead is a monsoon: A tumultuous storm that rages on. Waves froth and smash, Beating against the backs of my eyeballs. Sometimes they find their way Down my soft spotted cheeks. My lashes float to the earth One by one by one by one. Would you collect them for me Like discarded flower petals Down the aisle of my soul's chapel And press them into a scrapbook Full of twisted memories? Inside my brain is an H2O tornado Like reckless rainstorm pirouettes. My swirling view is blurred, But every so often I catch a clear picture Of the glowing whites of your eyes And I remember to fill my lungs, Head above the water, And breathe. Twirl, twist. Wind, mist. But don't panic, Because every so often I catch a clear picture Of you.

0

Mar 28, 2014

Mar 28, 2014 at 4:40 PM UTC

xok

Tornado

Inside my brain There is a tornado Spinning to infinity and beyond. God only knows how fast. My shoulders ache and my feet cramp. My wrists click And my eyes go damp. Inside my brain instead is a monsoon: A tumultuous storm that rages on. Waves froth and smash, Beating against the backs of my eyeballs. Sometimes they find their way Down my soft spotted cheeks. My lashes float to the earth One by one by one by one. Would you collect them for me Like discarded flower petals Down the aisle of my soul's chapel And press them into a scrapbook Full of twisted memories? Inside my brain is an H2O tornado Like reckless rainstorm pirouettes. My swirling view is blurred, But every so often I catch a clear picture Of the glowing whites of your eyes And I remember to fill my lungs, Head above the water, And breathe. Twirl, twist. Wind, mist. But don't panic, Because every so often I catch a clear picture Of you.

35