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Louise Apr 2016
This is who I hate. It's what I've done that makes me feel this way. It's your voice. it's your lips. It's in the way you stumble whispering I love you through kisses and trying to catch your breath. It's the 3 hour phone calls. It's the broken promises and memories. It's the way you held me. It's how you felt like home. and I've ate away the pain of you leaving and its left me 3 months later 20 pounds heavier and hating myself even more than I did before. it's hyperventilating at 9pm in my bedroom with anxiety throughout my whole body, Its my arms shaking, it's  a weight on my chest, it's butterflies suffocating my throat. it's hysterically crying with a blade in one hand and pills in the other. it's the phone ringing the very second I go to drag the blade across my arm with your name popped up on the screen even though we haven't talked in months. you dialed my number because you simply felt as if something were wrong. It's my mind screaming it's a coincidence but hearts aching whispering love. I'm numb. The bottle of alcohol on the floor is empty and a cigarette I stole from my mom while sleeping is all burnt out. Burnt out like the words you wrote when we first met in the fires we'd gaze at for hours. Those beautiful flames have nothing on the colors of your eyes. Forever changing with how you feel in that exact moment.
It's the fact that I'll always love you. It's how your silence comforts me in ways none of my friends words even know how. It's the fact that none of my friends even notice or ask but you just knew.   This is me unable to move on from what used to be. But this is not about you. I did this to myself, I destroyed myself day by day with all the dumb decisions I continue to make. Regret regret regret. This is me today, this is who I have become. This is who I hate. This is the girl cussing out a teacher. This is missing 47 days of school this year and failing 5 classes. This is ******* out friends and getting upset over stupid things. This is holding on to the past. This is becoming the person I swore I'd never be. This is who I hate. This is not me. But it's what I've let myself become. I hate the person staring back at he mirror. It's hating the person you see, because you don't recognize your own reflection.
This is to my soul, my heart, my mind. I want to be free, this is why I want to be in the stars.
Louise Jan 2016
I was getting bad again, but it wasn’t like anyone noticed. Some days I wasn’t sleeping, or even worse I started to sleep too much. This horrible nightmare was destroying me inside and out. Some days I wasn’t eating, or even worse I started eating too much. I was smoking to numb the pain, spilling sober thoughts into a blank page. Intoxicated with the madness I do not even understand. Weeks later to find, wanting to know if I was out of my mind because I could not seem to remember writing a **** thing. It was like looking into a strangers mind to find yourself staring back at you in a vanity mirror. This is because I would get so high I could think so clearly, write down these thoughts I never had words to explain. I tried so hard to forget my thoughts, my feelings, the pain. It never truly worked. Only for a little while. Thoughts of a blade going across my wrist and Crimson oozing down my arm seemed to appear more often than not. Yes I am clean, but that does not mean I don’t miss it. That does not mean the thought does not itch the back of my mind every breathing second. I would sit in class shaking, crying, heart throbbing. . Over memories and things I wish I could change, things I never had control over to begin with. I was unable to control my emotions, I was drowning in sorrows that I should’ve overcome by now. I was giving so much power to my pain, too much control to those who weren’t deserving. Giving too much power to the past and denying any strength I had. I was killing myself slowly in the sadness I was enduring, allowing myself to suffocate in night terrors I mistook as dreams. But then things started to change,
once we started speaking again. I started wanting to love myself, I’ve become obsessed with the idea to be the type of person, that a person like you would fall in love with. I find myself smiling at the thought of your laugh and sweet things you have told me. Heart smiling for the first time in years as my eyes slowly close as I listen to the sound of you playing your guitar. The sound of you playing comforts me in ways I’ve never been touched before. For the first time in a long time I felt safe and free at once. “I could fall asleep to this every night” I kept thinking. I kept thinking about you, so far I have not stopped. I keep thinking about how much I want this. Every song has become about you. One look at you and butterflies erupt in my stomach and make my heart jump beats. I wake up each day wanting to push through so I can see you, while it used to take everything in me to get out of bed. You’re making me feel things I didn’t know I was still capable of feeling. It’s been so long since I have felt anything near the way I’m feeling in this very moment. I never thought I could fall so deep for someone like this again, but here I am. ****** off my ***, thinking about you. Only you. This is a moment. This is the moment. This is the moment it finally hits me. I am in love with you. I am terrified as hell, but here I am.
Falling for you anyways.
Louise Jan 2016
It's a place not many like to visit because of the feeling it gives. The feeling I so often learn to forget, until I am face to face with the tomb of the one I miss the most. The sky appears to be dark; even when the sun is shining and the birds are chirping, I only feel the darkness that lingers around me. I walk down several paths with suspense of what is going to strike my mind when I am reminded of the absence of him. I hear the cars passing by, but my thoughts are much louder than the noise of the cars, the birds, or the sound of the leaves crumbling beneath me as I lay beside him. But he is much farther down. He is 6 feet under, yet I can still hear the sound of his voice on my 9th birthday replaying over and over inside my head saying, "Mya happy birthday baby, I love you very much." As I stare at the steelers sign that is carved into the stone beside me, I closely hold onto the necklace he gave to me as the tears start to fall down my face and onto the nearly cut grass. The grass reeks of the Earth being alive, healthy, and well- unlike the curse of cancer that left my father weak.  My mouth goes dry, but I can almost taste the air that leaves me with a lump in my throat. It taste like sadness, but the feeling is much more power when the thought of those around me try comforting me, that is until I realize that I am alone. I can smell the flowers that lay all around, and for a few seconds I remember the rose bush that sat right in front of his front porch. The same front porch I left a bright red nail polish stain on, and in that moment I can smell it and hear his voice yelling, but it only becomes comforting. Everything hits me at once as I try chocking out some words, and I speak of my life and how deeply I wish he were here. As I slowly walk away from the tomb he was buried under almost 7 years ago, I whisper one last thing. "I love you to the stars and back, but I think I miss you more."
Louise Jan 2016
this isn't for you
the nights I've spent on the floor
trying to collect thoughts
not even I understand
this isn't for you
the days I dread waking up
trying to even get out of bed
not even catching my own breath
this isn't for you
the urge to slit my wrist
trying to make it through the day
not able to sleep at night
this isn't for you
the depression I've collected myself in
trying to find myself out
not able to see past the pain
this isn't because of you
this is because of what I allowed you to do, to me
  Oct 2015 Louise
Syd
I think all those years ago
they took something from me.
not a tangible something,
not a something you can feel or hold or see,
but a something from deep inside of me.
I think they took a piece of me,
or a handful of small pieces of me,
pieces I'll never be able
to get back.
and I swore I'd never ever write
about that day,
about those people,
about you.

but this isn't ******* about you.
it never was or ever will be about you.
any of you.

this is about me,
and my pieces,
and how I really
really
really

just need to find a way to breathe again
without them.
Louise Sep 2015
I haven't wrote for a while.
That does not stop my heart from collapsing at the glimpse of the morning sky, because of sleepless nights I've torchered myself into. Convincing myself to go through alone so I won't pick up my phone and dial your number. I blame myself for the thoughts that keep me awake and I scream at my conscious to hush when any thought seemingly reasonable comes to mind. Deep down I know I'm doing this do myself but nothing stops me because I deserve it. I can't bear the sound of your name or the memory of your touch because the second I look out into the distance I become deep into a state of being numb.
but you see, dear. I'm told it's all in my head and there's no way out. So I look into my mirror and see a stranger staring back at me with eyes bloodshot red matching the blood slowly drip down my wrist. Stomach turning because of the nicotine I just enhaled and I spit into the sink trying to deny what I had done. days before I swore to myself i would never dare pick up a cigarette but I am 15 years old rocking back and forth on the floor begging the lord that I don't believe in to make it all stop. I'm worshipping the clock with faith it will somehow stop and rewind. take me back to the better days that I didn't spend my nights hating myself for every breath I continue to take. I've become all I said I never would.  I've lost myself completely and only find pieces of myself as I'm laying on my best friends floor high as hell and daydreaming about other worlds.
This is why I haven't wrote for a while.
There are no combinations of words to express how deeply I'm depressed. All I ask of you "friends," is to let me rest. Please don't wake me, I'm already dead.
  Jun 2015 Louise
curlygirl
I have a friend,
beautiful and daring,
who is now afraid to love
because of the men
standing in her shadow.
                                         "Maybe I don't know what love really is,"
she said.
                                         "Maybe you loved someone who didn't deserve it.
                                            And that's okay"

I replied.
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