I'm in this game of tug of war
with myself.
One moment I want to change
the way I act, because I can be
better, more gentle, more relaxed
and calm
but then again, I love the way I
am, I love my honesty
my quick comebacks,
my jokes, my laughs.

Even if there are improvements
to make I still have
to love what makes me, me.

She used to be so fearless
even the thought of rejection
didn't scare her.
The thought of embarrassment
was just whatever to her.

But now everything's different.
When did everything change and why?

It's so hard trying to improve myself
when there's voices of
those who told me that I can't.

It's so hard trying to prove
people wrong when their words
are imprinted into my brain.

She was daydreaming again,
and that was the most dangerous
thing she could do, but she
couldn’t help but be happy for
a minute or a two, she was desperate,
desperate to leave this so called
life of hers.

She daydreamed about the
noise in her house full of her
parents laughter instead of
angry voices, or silence because they
had nothing to say instead of
silence with tension.

She daydreamed about her sister
living past June because the doctors
say she will die soon.

She daydreamed that her brother would
stop drinking every night to numb the
the pain away because alcohol
doesn’t drain it away, it stays and drowns
you until you can’t breathe.

She daydreamed that she could leave
this so called life of hers.

I wonder what it's
like to be someone's weakness.
where they can't control
their own thoughts and blinded
by what might be lust.

People need to stop making
comments about other peoples
body image and focus on themselves.
It's tiring and sickening.
Grow up.

Not getting attached is all
part of an act,
it's hard to keep up, and
kind of scary
to think that one day it
won't be an
act anymore, it'll just be my mind
thinking that
this is how I'm supposed
to be.

They judge how you live,
and once you're dead,
they judge how you died.

People only lie when
they're guilty.

And you just lied.
To everyone, you're
someone who is
never at fault.
To me,
you're a **** coward,
too afraid to admit the
truth.

We all create our own universe
to escape but I learned
that it just made me believe
that it was better than reality,
it was for a while but
it was just an allusion
to get me hooked.

My mind created monsters in my universe
that took every inch of innocence
every hope
every little happiness
I had of reality
because I was too caught up
in this world I thought was wonderful
but it was just a trap.

My mind has trapped me in
my own universe.

People criticize others so
much they don't even realize
how often they do it.
One insult after the other,
its so unattractive.

Makes me watch what I say.

He only went to her when he needed her
just for help, nothing else.
And of course she came to his rescue
because she still cared, still wanted
him in her presence
and when he realized he treated her wrong
oh wait..
he never did.

Just stop talking.
I don't understand.
Your words are just
mumbling in my head.
Nothing makes sense right now.
Leave me alone.
Nothing you say will
help just give me space.

Everyone's left, intentionally or not.
Physically and mentally.
And having no control over the smallest
thing such as someone caring just a little
drives me completely into a
loneliness state of mind.

Bearing physical pain is easier
than emotional pain because
physical pain hurts for awhile and
disappears.
emotional pain hurts, and then lingers,
never really going away.

Being content is the such a
relieving feeling because
I'm no longer unhappy, but actually
okay with how things are.
And I don't feel stuck,
I feel free.

I want to hug her and protect her
but the truth is the world is an
evil place and even the people we
hold close to our hearts will hurt us
and make us weak.

That word "fat" she gets called everyday
will destroy her mentally and all I can do
is tell her it's not true and hope that she's trusts me.

I've been in those shoes, I still am and for a ****
8 year old to be going through this is so disturbing to me.

She acted like she didn't care when I brought it
up, but once I showed her i genuinely care, she opened up.
No one should be called names on their body, no one.
Yet everyone does it.

Millions of things she wanted to say.
Millions of things going through her head.

I love you.

I hate you.

Both were true, love was more of
what she felt but she blurted
“I hate you.”
because she would
rather seem strong than vulnerable and
that was terrifying because she
pushed people away just so
people couldn’t see the side she
was too stubborn to show
but people longed to see.

Hands are so genuine.
Think about it, exam it.
They're like eyes, they show emotion
without having to say anything.

Hand holding, grabbing,
Pushing, caressing,
Lingering.

These all have different meanings,
Caring, ******, anger, tempting, and desperation.

She looked like a perfectly normal girl with lightbrown hair and dark brown eyes.
She walks down the street blending in with the crowd,
but people don’t see the things that go through her head.
In her head she is conflicted.
Conflicted whether her family loved her,
if they even cared but, why would they?
She was adopted at the age of four.
She was conflicted whether she should **** herself
because she felt like the black sheep in the family.
Conflicted whether she should eat because, she was a bit bigger.
One day, she wasn’t conflicted anymore.
She knew what she wanted so she put the gun through her head.
Her family found her in the bathroom but it was too late.
She left a note saying, “sorry I wasn’t enough.”
What she didn't know was that her family loved her,
they loved that she was different.
They loved the fact that she was a bit bigger because
she was still healthy and they admired that she didn’t care about her weight.
She was everything that they ever wanted.
In their eyes she was one of them, despite that they weren’t related.
They loved her, and now they were conflicted
whether or not they did enough.

Two years ago I wrote myself a letter.
Inside of it I told myself to not give up.
To not give up on writing, something I
believed I was good at, which is rare.
Within those years, I stopped believing.
I stopped being creative.
I made no more time for it.
That's when I realize that's how it is to grow up.
You just start to lose that spark, that passion.
But reading that letter made me reach for a pen and paper.

I should feel something
but I don't, I'm so used to
it that I am numb.

People aren't naturally
good anymore.
They only act like it to
get attention
or to impress,
but it's never from
the goodness of their heart.

Barely anyone is happy anymore.
It's like smiles and laughters don't exist,
they have become extinct.
And this loneliness and unhappiness is overpopulating.

I don't think people are afraid to die.
People are afraid of losing loved ones
and possessions that hold their memories.

Photographs, drawings, writings.
All that explain the secrecy that they've kept
not wanting anyone to find but when they're
dead they have no control.

I have learned to accept
the freckles on my face that
people used to think were strange
for an Asian girl.

I have learned to accept the
flat nose that I inherited from
my dad that people used to make fun
of me for.

I am learning to accept my
thick bones that people mistaken for me being fat.

I have learned and accepted.
These things are a part of me.
The words that these people speak of
will just be words in the future because
I will EMBRACE my differences.

No, I'm not scared
of monsters under my bed,
I'm scared of monsters
inside my head.

The monsters keep reminding
me of mistakes I've done
and people who have hurt me
in the past
making me cringe as I cuff
my hands on my ears, but still
they make no difference, the voices
just get louder and louder.

I scream begging them to
to be silent but they just
do a quick hush and whisper
even more cruel things
and this is where
I wish I was a child again
because when I screamed
everything became silent
and there weren't really
any monsters.

So this is it
People just leave your life
out of nowhere
and you’re supposed to just to
just accept it,
to just be happy,
because the pain of not
knowing isn’t the reason
to be frustrated, confused
or in denial.

You’re expected to just
“move on”
because that somebody already has
or you have no choice.

But why?
Why do you pretend to be
okay, when really you just want to
scream, cry, and just act out.

To be able to move on,
you shouldn’t pretend that
you're fine,
pain takes longer
to heal when you don’t treat it.

Unfinished was tattooed on her skin.
And the way she carried herself you
could tell she's been through many battles
yet she carried a sweet gentle smile.

She caught me looking at the peace of art,
She smirked and said, " Demons are hard to break,
mentality though is much stronger. "

I wonder what it feels like to
succeed,
to prove someone
wrong.

To see the look on their face,
surprised.

To see all the doubters in
disbelief.

I want them to see the look of my
success
and their failure to bring me
D
o
w
n
.

Every person that we meet
teaches something to us,
whether it's to be more happy,
or to be careful with who we trust.
They reinforce us with things we already
know, but don't think about all the time.
With them, we learn more about ourselves,
and we are who we are because of the
people we encounter.

I need you but you could harm me,
like how people need water but they could drown in it.

Or how people need fire but it can burn all they have and **** them.

I need you but I'm afraid that if I need too much of you, you could destroy me as well.

But you will be worse than water or fire
because you won't **** me,
you will just suffocate and torture
my mind and I will be left with
broken pieces to pick up like when
a burglar invades a home.

Worst of all, I will be left with the
thought of you.

The person who destroyed
me.

Just like pictures
the way we see things
isn't how they're captured.

They say that the eyes
show through the soul
but when I look into yours
there’s nothing,
just an emotionless human being.

As if someone took your soul
and masked it with a black curtain
so no one can see through you.

Maybe that’s a good thing, because
if some people knew what was behind
it, they would be frightened by the truth and
their ignorance
which is…
you’re
not
perfect.

Our minds have a clock
wired inside yet we
always seem to have
terrible timing.

What scares me about the future
is that I cannot picture
it in my head.

One by one death is putting people to "peace"
and those close, in pain.
Although I'm usually not close to some one
who passes away, I'm always in disbelief and confused.
I fear that someone close will soon pass,
and I will lose control.
and there's a certain time in everyone's life where
they're expected to except death, but why should I?
death gives me nothing but thought that will never be solved.

Eyes are my weakness
so when you tell me you're
sorry and that you love me
do me a favor and
don't force me to look up into
them because I will fall for
you again, causing me to have
a broken heart who still think there's
truth in your apology.