I get anxious when I don't have a toothbrush in my purse.
I leave behind the house and the ability to take care of myself if I don't come back.
Every time I get in my car I wonder if it will take me somewhere else that night,
even if I know I'm coming home.
It's different now; I sleep in the same bed most nights and I brush my teeth at the same sink,
but I meet the same eyes that I used to see in different mirrors every day.
I stalled in more restrooms than I could count because every other door was shut.
I learned that Starbucks is better than Tim Hortons; there's a place to put your purse and the water tastes nicer,
and if people see you leaving with a seven-dollar latte they assume you're going to the same place you came from.
I buried my toothbrush at the bottom of my bag.
The baristas would ask about my plans for the day, and if I'd had the words, I might have said, "I'll get back in my car and see where it takes me."
It would have sounded poetic. It might have been enviable,
and I might have felt a little less homeless.
But how dare I say that thankless word--
I was always met with a laugh and a correction: "You'll never be homeless; look at all the places you can go."
And I was grateful, I was grateful, I was grateful,
but they never knew how lost it felt to sleep on different beds and couches and know it was because of how lost you felt.
I was welcomed in every different home except the one I was forced from,
and every different shower I cried in saved me a little bit more.
But everyone was always amused at how prepared I was when I pulled out my purse.
They didn't know it was because I didn't have any other place to keep my toothbrush.

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

please don't look at me like that -
i would die before worrying you again

i don't know how to live inside my head,

and i'm sorry.

i'm trying to live anyway

and i'm sorry

i'm getting so tired these days

if i ever apologize for existing,

know that i mean it.

and if i don't have you?

well

maybe i'll end up alone.

maybe you'll be the last.

and maybe that would be okay

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.

the window is open,

the rain is gentle,

and the music is soft.

today will be okay.

healthy people don't want to be sick.

if i look so healthy,

why do i try so hard to change that

and all i can feel is pride,
because hunger
gnawing at your stomach
feels like such beautiful,
validating praise.

'but for what?'

for the voices.
for the calming whispers
that sound like friends.
it's easy to ignore the hunger
when they're all you can hear.

just a little longer.
it feels safer this way, doesn't it?

heaven doesn't even know how much i miss you already.

God,

just make these decisions for me.

my best friend's mother held me so tight
that i wondered how close i could get
to letting myself feel like a daughter

remember when you would stop at nothing
to skip the next meal?
you were hurting so deeply.
an empty stomach did nothing to fix your empty heart.

where did all my motivation go

what a terribly aching heart
i have been given
by a terribly aching world.
what a beautiful thing it would be
to be taken from it.

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

i say i want to be healthy.
i say
that i don't want to destroy myself,
and i say
that i want to live.
but i've hardly eaten in two days,
the red on my wrist is recent,
and i thought about heaven last night.
i'll be fine.
i just need to learn
how to line up words and actions
as well as i line up
the marks on my skin.

i just wanna like myself

I've always tried
to never ask the world for too much,
never ask God for too much,
but just this once,
could someone tell me
why I can never go very long
without some form of self-destruction
just so I can try
to figure that one out

they told me these were the best years of my life.

...these are the best?

today has too many emotions in it

I DON'T WANT TO TAKE UP SPACE

THIS IS THE ONLY THING I FEEL COMFORTABLE SAYING

I LOOK AT MY LIFE

AND SEE ALL THE SPACE I OCCUPY

AND I

FEEL

GUILTY

but how do you say that you don't want to live anymore

i'm scared to lose you.

i'm scared to keep you.

i don't know yet.

just hold me.

just be patient.

please.

at this point, i think it's only a matter of time.

we talked for hours.

you said you felt encouraged

but also doomed.

i don't know how to feel right now.

all i know is that i can't stop the tears.

for all you are to me,

thank you.

i pray that you find the sweetest love imaginable.

but whatever happens,

He is always good.

whatever happens.

math made me cry in third grade.
i hated decimals and multiplication
and sitting at a desk.
i didn't know what a calorie was.
what would my younger self say
if she saw me counting every one?
i wouldn't have the heart to tell her
that the only way to tell between
a good day and a bad one
was the numbers

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

and maybe it's just not the right time

i thought moving away from home
would give me all the space i needed.
i thought running away from pain
would make it all vanish.

silly girl.
if you're old enough to go to college
you're old enough to know better.

i thought forgetting about the fights
would magically make me heal.
i thought finding a new source of stress
would chip away old ones by accident.

silly girl.
if you've lived this long,
you're old enough to know better.

maybe if i write enough

and put it on the internet

without anyone knowing who i am,

it will feel

like i've talked about it

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

i want to run away

reinvent myself

and then decide

if i want to come back

at all

i can hardly believe how much this is consuming me

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.

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.

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

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.

i romanticize the things that **** me

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

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