this is not fair.
this is not fair.
i can't be there.
i can't breathe air.
i can't help bear
the weight she wears.
i want to share.
she knows i care,
but she's aware
i can't be there.
this is not fair
this is not fair

my love,
the world has given you so much pain.
i can't bear it for you
and it breaks me to watch.
but i will crawl with you
i will stumble with you
i will fight with you
and i will pray with you.
i wouldn't blame you
if you kept your eyes closed the rest of your life,
but i promise with everything in my soul
that if you decide to open them,
i will be the first thing you see

i have lived my whole life with the truth,
whether i remember it or not,
whether it is what they think or not,
whether it was real or not.
and i am still me.
i am still the same person.
i am still the same body
and i am still the same soul

the sky was grey and i couldn't feel my body.
my head was heavier than suburban slammed doors,
and the presence of sidewalk strangers
sent trembles of panic through to my core.
my ears are already pierced,
but i winced at high school football whistles
and garbage trucks
and rattling engines
and raised voices.

do you remember the museum?
do you remember burying your head in your dad's shoulder
because the world they warned you about
was too grey for your hazel eyes and golden soul?

don't forget.
it is not a world you have to live in.
you must not find safety in greyness.
there is none for you there

i want to be someone who helps.
i want to be someone who hears.
i don't want to be who harms.
i don't want to be one who haunts.
i want to be one with open hands.
i want to be one with open heart

God,
my friend.

my friend is drowning.

my friend's canoe is upside down in a raging current.

my friend is holding on and she needs only you.

God,
my friend.

save her

i know this has been set in the stone of your mind,
but consider otherwise,
for just one moment,
that this could be the most harm you've ever experienced,
and it just may not be your friend at all

it's a lovely feeling,
i know.
i know.
i know.
but you can't stay here.
this isn't any way to live.
you can't have a full life feeling empty.
it's so hard,
i know.
i know.
i know.
eat anyway.
live anyway.

name,
class,
professor,
date.

intro.

i believe i am quite burnt out.

conclusion,
bibliography.

there is a family
laughing together
behind me,
and i
am
destroyed

i stopped hurting myself
because i was tired of hiding it.

not because i wanted to.

a word that comes to mind

when i look at the marks

scattered below my wrist.

healed.

full stop.

there will be no more harm here.

I stood out on the porch tonight
and looked up at the endless sky,
feeling more nostalgic than I have
in a long time.
I think I might have cried a little.
It was hard to tell.
I think I might be a bit scared.
It’s hard to tell that, too.
I think I’m beginning to learn
bit by bit
more about who I am,
but so much of who that is
is still so uncertain—
so uncertain that I stared at this blank page
before I even thought of a title.
But
if I have made twenty years today
then perhaps tomorrow
is not such a frightening step.
I haven’t faced everything,
and I know I won’t.
But today
marks two decades.
Today
still stands.

Why am I so tight?
I don’t know.
Perhaps I am afraid of stepping on landmines
everywhere that I go;
perhaps I am afraid of the warzone
that lives inside the same walls that I do;
perhaps I am afraid of the nightmares
that visit every time I close my eyes;
perhaps
I am simply
afraid.
But it doesn’t make sense—
this fear that has stitched itself
into the seams of my soul
and whose whisper is louder
than even the slammed doors
of my battlefield house.
I was always taught
that the darkness of my bedroom
was never something to be afraid of,
and the monsters respected this
until age nineteen and one painkiller too many.
I was always taught
that wise friends were good friends,
and good friends were trusted friends—
but the first time I trusted my secrets to one,
my parents punished in blind offense
that it was not them
who were trusted.
Why am I so tight?
Perhaps I’ve learned that the more you open your mouth,
the more you regret it;
perhaps I’ve learned that the safest secret keeper
is your own heart and soul;
perhaps I’ve learned that watching your skin bleed
is the most calming medication there is;
perhaps
I do not consider myself
a friend.
Words must be weighed
before they meet any outside ear,
and if the inner heart does not wish to weigh them,
they will remain unknown.
So for as long as I am
afraid of myself,
I will not know myself—
and neither will any other soul.

i am trying so hard to talk to you.
i know you want to help,
i know you care,
i know i can trust you.
but i need you to know that it's hard,
and that there are so many things in my head
that are almost impossible to turn into words.
i know i asked you not to give up on me,
and i know i told you to walk away if you choose.
i know i'm putting you through a chaotic string
of ups and downs
and it seems like i can't make up my mind.
but i'm asking you to stay one more time
because i really do need you.

a feeling i've fallen in love with.

a feeling that has grown comfortable.

a feeling, pardon the joke, that i can feed.

a gallon of water
and mint gum
makes me feel
more in control
than a blade ever did

i think i might be lonely.
but who would i tell
if i realized i was?

if a year

is all i was meant to help him through,

then i am thankful.

if he must be drawn away

to touch another life,

then i am thankful

for that, too

i know myself better than you do,
i've known these scars better than you do.
i've seen pain on these arms far longer.
this scares you because you don't trust me,
but you never needed to tell me that.
i won't ask you to trust me,
but trust the process instead -
there are memories far worse than candles and blades,
and i must see them first
before i can put them away.

my throat is tight
and there are tears dripping
onto the cuts in my arms,
and this is not
how i pictured my twenties

forgive me.
I have no other plea but this.
forgive me
for living lies
lies that say I do not belong to you,
that your blood was not enough,
that the only person I hurt was myself.
there is pain
everywhere
seeping from my eyes,
my shoulder,
and his texts.
I am responsible for this pain
but instead of biting in bitterness
at that responsibility,
I should have let it break me
and bring me back
to grace.
but I chose another road—
the trail I blazed myself
the one I’ve walked for years
the one I know so well.
this time
I brought him to the path
and let him walk beside me.
I wanted him there.
he was safe.
so very different
from the stranger in my nightmare.
but I wasn’t broken yet.
instead I was sharp
as sharp as the silver edge I clung to
and it hurt him
to walk on my path.
he chose to stay,
but sent me back into the forest
until I learned to crave this plea:
forgive me.
there are two different streams of blood
and I chose
the one that stains my hands
and not the one that cleanses my heart.
break me
so I can heal
and forgive me.
this is all I ask.
to the one who walked beside me
and who I hurt,
forgive me.
and to the one who walked beside me
and who chose to stay,
thank you.

sweet little flower,

he said,

you are not ready for this world.

silly boy. he should know

that when my soul meets the world

all it will see

is a darkness that matches it

we caught up yesterday,
a simple conversation
with encouragement and laughter.
i thought i'd trip back in love with you.
i thought i would have to ward off pesky feelings
and persistent romance,
but all i felt was pride for how far you've come
and thankfulness
that you had had a place in my life.

body,
i am so
so
so
sorry

that moment when you realize

that all you hug at night

is your

stuffed

moose

i romanticize the things that **** me

i can feel myself shutting down again.
i can feel myself getting quiet.
i can feel myself closing off.

this is where i take control.
this is where i do something good.
this is where i start making changes.

my scars are fading
and i'm afraid
that so will i.

but why do i have to be small
for them to notice i'm hurting?

i can hardly believe how much this is consuming me

i
am not a good person.
they say
i
am as sweet as the candy
i
give to their children; they say
i
am the angel that collects new wings
every time
i
smile, because you can hear it ring.
but
there are worlds behind these eyes
that they have never seen,
and you might think that beautiful
but darling, trust me when
i
say that it is not;
and
i
have never worn a sugar-coated halo
or looked in the mirror
and smiled because
i
like who
i
am.
i
am not a good person,
i
simply do good things for
wrong reasons.
i
write long birthday cards because
i
don’t want to be forgotten,
and
i
smile at strangers because
i
want to be noticed.
i
love giving gifts, but
when it comes to receiving
i
turn them into weapons if
i
have the courage to accept them
in the first place.
i
eat the things
i
am allergic to because it’s another way
to hurt myself, and
i
have skipped the food
i
should be eating because
that’s another way, too.
i
claim that
i
am strong, but
i
listen to loud music because
i
can’t stand it when my family fights,
and
i
only plant flowers
to have something to care for.
“i”
is written in a line all its own
because
i
have never thought that
i
needed anyone, or that
anyone needed me;
and
i
don’t use capitals because
i
don’t believe
i
am worthy.
it makes this poem
scattered
and muddled
and tiresome to finish.
it makes this story
disjointed
and broken
and difficult to read.
but then again
how fitting, because
so
am
i

i keep forgetting how intensely i love.

i'm terribly sorry -

my affection must have spilled over

in the most unexpected and uncontrollable way possible -

out of my fumbling hands

and into your beautiful heart

slow down.
slowdownslowdownslowdown.
this world was made for healthier minds than ours.
more stable minds than ours.
more well minds than ours,
and we are breaking under the pace
the pressure
the presence
the outpour.
we can only imagine what we could do
with a little more patience

i don't have to control it.
i don't have to think about it.
my body helps me live my life,
and its relationship with gravity
is the least interesting thing about me.

i am yearning for something
i don't think exists anymore

these thoughts want you dead.

fight them.

what right do i have
to be someone in need of care

gosh i'm trying, but i hate this.
i feel so uncomfortable in my body.
i don't know if this will ever get easier.

it doesn't always last,
but when it does-

what a drug

but when will this stop getting in the way of my life?

today i met a woman who was kind.
and i know what you'd be thinking by now,
i know you'd ask me why that was the first thing i noticed in her,
and it wasn't the first thing i said about you.
you'd ask if that automatically meant i liked her better than you.
and i want to say right away that that's not true;
that i love you more than life itself
and i would die for you a thousand times over.
but there are some days when i grieve what we never had,
and feel bitter over what we did have.

today i met a woman who was compassionate.
she doesn't know my story, but if she did,
i have a feeling that she might be safe.
that thought is terrifying alone, because i've never met an older woman
who has felt so safe in so little time.
maybe it's the way she is so well spoken of,
and maybe it's the care in her eyes when she isn't even speaking.
i don't know what it is, but something inside me knew
that she would look at me with tenderness
where you have looked at me with resent.

today i met a woman who was wise.
i try to pretend like i can tell you the burdens of my heart,
but i think we both know that i've tried that before,
and that i never will again.
we both know that my secrets feel ashamed to be shared with you,
and i think they're scared of being called an embarrassment again.
(i know i am.)
i know things are different now, and that we've all changed.
we've all learned and grown from these past few years.
but the pain that they caused is still seeping from my every pore
and i know of no way to stop it.

i need you to know that this is not a letter of hate, or betrayal, or defeat.
this is a letter of regret. this is a letter of longing.
this is my heart bleeding with all the words i could never say to you,
because i know how you would take them.
this is my heart aching for a better relationship with you.
this is my heart trying to claw through all the past hurt and trauma
to say that i miss you, i want you, and i need you.
i have been so focused on all that you have been that i forgot about all that i wanted you to be,
and i guess that all i'm saying
is that today i met someone who reminded me of that.

you really thought someone was going to come save you,

didn't you?

you really thought there could be an easy way out,

didn't you?

if you want this hell to end,

you're going to have to stand up,

work yourself dead,

and save your own **** self.

and if i showed them,
which would scare people more-
the bandage or the scar?

i wish we wouldn't be so at war

my hand rests on the window of your mind,
watching from the outside.
i will look for as long as you'll have me,
clearing away the fog and fears.
how absolutely fascinating it is

The last time we spoke
was a hundred and seventy-four days ago
but I thought of you again today.
I remembered
how we were both lonely souls
with aching hearts,
and maybe that was why
we fell apart.
I don't know God's plan,
but I do know this -
I miss someone
who I no longer have the right
to call
my best friend.