"Hi how are you?"

Well, it took everything I had this morning
to get up and leave my bed
Don't ask me if I showered
or even brushed my teeth
My reflection shamed me in the mirror
Told me I am ugly
I am fat
Couldn't stand her harsh words
Fled the bathroom after that
No makeup, unbrushed hair
Threw on a wrinkled shirt
Can't explain how hard it was to walk out the door
My anxiety is crippling.
Keep my eyes down on the floor
I stay out of strangers' way
Hoping I'll get lucky
Please no one talk to me today.
I slipped into the bathroom
Don't look into Medusa's eyes
Pushed my fingers down my throat
I didn't deserve those fries.
Anxiety, depression, an eating disorder too
I'm not doing my best
but that's not what I'll tell you.

"Fine, thank you for asking."

Love isn't blind,
blind are those,
who never loved.

This is for you:

-the girl who is so ashamed because of her acne,
-the girl who cries in front of her mirror because she doesn’t
look like Picasso’s muse,
-the girl who forgot how to smile because of her problems,
-the girl who cries her eyes out every night because of him,
-the girl who is so terrified to attach because of her past relationship,
-the girl who is different from the others,
-the girl who wants to save every soul she meets, except hers,
-the girl whose heart, blood and soul runs wild,

-you are so much more than the sprinkles from your skin.
-you're not Picasso’s muse, but you definitely are God’s muse.
-don’t waste your life being so stressed, just enjoy the journey.
-you need to be strong.Cry your heart out, but stop,your tears are too worthy , make them rare, for the real ones.
-try to love yourself first, then someone else.
-your future is not defined by your past.
-you need to save yourself first.
-run with them, darling, and never look back.

This is for you, girls.
You, no matter what, are good enough.
You are lovable.
You are strong.
You are independent.
You are different.
You are rare.
You are you, and that is your power, learn how to use it.

Everything I write, everything I draw; delete

The things I create, I cannot complete

Is it being insecure or being lazy?                                                            ­                                                                 ­     

I don't know how to be a productive lady                    

I feel stupid                                                           ­                                                                 ­                                                  

Since I can't anything executed

My work lives in the recycling bin

It's close in resemblance to a din

The backspace key is faded

My soul is abraded

I hate that I can't articulate

Does anyone else relate?

At least this poem is finished but it has no real end                                                              ­                                

I hope it shows what I intend

I don't think I know
where to begin or
where to go
How to leave chance behind
how to change perceptions
how to treat my own mind

I don't know
why I have this need
to share and to show
Exactly where I stand
ever spilling heart in hand

I don't know why
I keep asking for truth
from strangers only passing by
Same old retreat
numbing sadness on repeat

I have no idea
what to tell you now
how to make myself more clear
How to leave and how to save
how to make my feet behave

I'm a glass full of shards
a peculiar collection
lots of shiny unknown parts
I don't know who I am anymore
I don't think I knew before