My scars re-open,
Every time I hear your name,
I wish that they would just heal.

“please! just tell me what’s wrong! why are you always so angry and distant all the time?!  i’m trying to help you why won’t you let me??!”

“you just wouldn’t understand, this is something i have to deal with on my own”

and then he felt it
the feeling of her trying to break down the conjured barrier around his thoughts
the feeling of her trying to see him the way she can see everyone else

“STOP IT”
he yelled slamming her into the wall without even touching her skin
“STOP TRYING TO GET IN MY HEAD”
the girl that was never afraid now looked completely terrified
he loosens his mental grip he had on her body , looking into her violet eyes and pulls her close
“i’m sorry love”
he whispers
“it’s just too dark in here”

in a way
i’m an experiment
a surgical project
i teach the broken boys how to love

they practice on me
they learn to say the right things
to do the right things
and to avoid the wrong things
and how to not say something stupid

the problem is tho
how am i supposed to know
when a boy wants me
and not a lesson
will i even know how to handle it?
or will i freak and leave
how will i know if its real
and not an experiment

it’s getting to the point to where i need a lesson
not on how to love
but how to be truly loved
because i don’t know what that feels like
for the only thing on a guys mind to be me
and not because they want something
but because they want to give me everything

because everytime
he takes what he needs
learns what he wanted to know
and treats the next girl how i would treat him,
perfectly

i wonder if that’s why im here
to teach boys how to love the broken girls
if i’m just supposed to help fix girls ill never even know

i’m trying to come to peace with it
but i’m a broken girl too
i want for a boy to actually fix me
not pretend too

She was drawing,
not for anyone.
Not even for herself.

Just…
  because her hands needed to move.
The pencil didn’t ask for approval.
It didn’t perform.
It just followed
 whatever was humming
  beneath her skin.

I’ve seen someone dance
 in the middle of cleaning.
Not to music.
Just to rhythm.

A private conversation
 between body and gravity
     where
      I was only
       accidentally
             invited.

There’s a holiness
 in the movements people make
  when they don’t know they’re being seen.

Not holy because they’re beautiful.
But because they’re untranslated.

They’re not trying to mean something.
They just are.

I’ve started collecting these moments.
Not in pictures.
Not in notes.
Just
  in the place behind my ribs
  where wonder stays
  when it’s too quiet to name.

i have these voices in my head

with me when i’m awake or in bed
when i’m smiling and happy
they come and break my peace
telling me weird things
that make me lose my ease

they tell me i won’t get better
they tell me i don’t matter
they tell me one day ill be dead
so why not get it over with instead

the voices are evil and cold
but they comfort me when i’m all alone
they tell me to do things to myself
and be sure that no one knows

oh the voices in my head
they walk me to my death

you were 9 when you heard about depression for the first time
you told yourself “that will never be me
i’m gonna be happy
i’m gonna be free”

then at 10 you started to wonder
why am i so sad?
it made your mom worry
so did your dad

And at 11 you cut for the first time making you wonder
why
why
why it made you feel better
you just wanted to quit but you still did everything you could to hide it

then at 12 you let your mind dwell on the thoughts saying  just end it
it’s all you wanted to do
yet still you didn’t

but at 13 you tried pills for the first time
started with a high and then enough to die

and at 14 you met him
the one you thought saved you
but still you tried and you tried
you tried to fight , to die, sometimes both at the same time

then at 15 you went to therapy saying
“i don’t think this can save me”
but still he encouraged you
he was proud of you

now you’re 16 and he’s not here anymore
the pain left with him, but who’s keeping score?
it took a few years but you’re finally free
just like that 9 year old said you would be