1.  I just couldn't stop myself from falling and suddenly realized, I didn't want to.

2. Thank you for making my time feel worth something.

3. This is the third time I've wrote this and it still doesn't explain much...I'm sorry.

4. I haven't slept for two weeks because of you and I hope you still think I'm cute with these bags under my eyes.

5. All the ***** couldn't drown my love for you and never once did it make me forget your name; only my own.

6. There are over one million thoughts going through my head everyday, and I still haven't mastered the art of putting them on paper but maybe one part of this will mean something.

7. It's hard for me to explain what's going through my head right now...but I've thinking about you all night.

8. I just had to say this before it was too late but hell, I'm barely on time for class each day.

9. I wanted to wait for the perfect time, but that wait would last forever.

10. I don't know how to be alone and I hoped someday that you'd fill in the empty space in my bed.

11. My hands are shaking and I don't know if I am scared, nervous or anxious; but I know this time I won't chicken out.

12. I just had to get this weight off my chest and god, I almost forgot what it was like to really breathe.

13. I am tired of being afraid.

As you can see,
I've never been a prodigy.
Always unimpressive, apparently.
Stressing is an everday thing.
But you wouldn't care,
You're just so unaware.
Depression has me ensnared,
But you couldn't handle my despair.
So keep your eyes closed.
And I'll do the same.
The things I think about are completely insane,
I wish the good times would never change.
But this isn't my dreamland.
It's a place where I don't want to stand.
Depression is the ocean,
Anxiety is the sand,
And I'm somewhere floating in between it all.

Trigger Warning:

I want to scrub my skin red and raw so I forget how it looked with the bruises you left on it.
I thought your eyes were lit with love for me,
but it was only lit with lust for my body.
When I said "No",
You heard "Yes"
You covered my mouth to mask my fears
and whispered "You want it" in my ear.

Three years later,
I walked around at night alone,
crossing city streets without looking for cars.
I ate less and smoked more,
Hoping someday the cigarettes would **** me.
Because I was already dead inside.

And just typing this my stomach is in knots,
Just like my hair was the day you left me by the road side.
And my hands are shaking,
Just like my legs where as I tried to walk back home that day.

I still flinch when a guy raises his hand around me,
and cringe when some guy makes a **** joke in class.
I still can't wear shorts without remembering how you got dirt on the ones I wore that day.

june tenth
the pale lamp in my room is flickering again,
you told me fifty three times to fix it,
i never did.

september twenty-first
every morning i drink apple juice,
you liked orange juice and always asked me to buy some,
i never did.

september twenty-fifth
wednesday: the day you were born,
once you were gone i was supposed to forget,
i never did.

october third
halloween is coming up,
you told me to dress up as captain america,
i never did.

may second
it's spring time and the flowers are hopping up from their beds, (another thing i never did)
i can't believe the world still goes on but,
i never did.

may eighteenth
i read the fifth harry potter book,
i skipped two and four; you once told me to write my own story,
i never did.

may twenty-seventh
you always laid out my meds for me on our lillypad green paper napkins,
but whenever i'd take them you'd vanish, so,
i never did.

june first
i played a mel tormé record,
you said i had a better voice than him whenever i sang along but,
i never did.

june sixth
i cried for the first time in three days,
the world felt heavier today, i tried to let it crush me but,
it never did.

june tenth
now its been,
well,
time seems a bit funny to me now a days.
but i guess its probably been two months or so,
but the calendar says four years,
but the calendar wouldn't be the first thing to lie to me in here.
but i want to let you know:

i don't have lamps now,
i only am allowed water,
they never tell me what day it is,
i haven't even seen a halloween since your absence,
the only thing close to flowers in here is the pattern on my gown,
the "library" here *****, there is a total of nine books. they are all gross romance novels,
my meds now come in a tiny paper cup four times a day,
they only play country here and thats only on music therapy days,
the world floated up
                                    up
                         ­                 up
                                             ­   and away, i assume it took you with it,

i guess it is just and fair that this happened to me,
i mean look at all the things you asked that i did not do for you,
but i asked you one thing,
and you said you'd always be with me, but,
you never did
**no one ever did

I have lung made of paper bags
                                                            ­                      and a spine made of glass.
I spend my life walking on thin ice,
                                                            ­                 knowing that if I slip I will break.
I can't walk with great posture,
                                                        ­                because the weight on my shoulders.
My mind is full of cliche metaphors
                                                       ­                 and clouded with the stress of living.
The more I panic and my breathing increases,
                                                   the­ more my paper bags start to strain and crinkle.
The more I walk around with the weight I try to carry,
                                                          ­       the risk of shattering my glass spine rises.
My eyes are closed,
                                                 and my hands are ***** from trying to dig myself up.
To stop my lungs from straining,
                                                                    I stop myself from breathing.
To lessen the risk of my spine breaking,
                                                               I lay in bed and never move around.

I hate the fact that I can come up with stories for people who never lived,
Or a poem about things that happened when I was a kid,
But I can't figure out how to remember the quadratic equation,
And nothing good comes out of my power of persuasion.

I have no idea what comes out of having a creative mind,
But not being able to do complicated math in record time.

I hate that I would rather spend hours coming up with a metaphor to describe the panic I feel,
Than learn things that are supposed to help me make enough money to pay for even one daily meal.

I spent more time trying to write this,
Than I ever would trying to understand functions and statistics.

But writing ****** poetry isn't going to help me,
When I don't even have the slightest idea what I want to be.