12:07 am

this is my first time writing since may. i dont really know what to write about. ive written about pain, ive written about guilt, ***, abuse, drugs. it seems thats all there is to be wrote about. i could write about love, but **** it thats so cliche and trust me ive tried it once and it turned out rotten.

i think this is a very bad time in my life. it feels as if rock bottom is one hill away. (lost all my friends, lost familys respect,cutting, getting fat(startingtostarve), snorting percs). ive thought ive been at rock bottom so many times. but every time i thought it, i realized theres more to come. (every overdose i exposed to mom)

but this time i think im farther down than that. im to the point that i realize dying is a bad option, but i can feel, as the seconds go by, it seems like the best. i know i thought about dying before, but never in this sense. ive never thought of it as a real option, ive always thought "yes, i will take these pills, but they will not **** me. i will get help after they see im suffering"

honestly, i dont want to overdose and end up back in the hospital. its a bore, a endless circle of routine. (take the pills, confess, hospital, pumped with fluids, drink the charcol, talk to doctors, pack my bags, long drive, 1 week stay)

but i dont want to die either. im terrifed of whats after death. (heaven/hell?, rot in the ground? come back a bear?) (worst scenario: stay on earth as a ghost, watch my loved ones suffer)

and i do realize there are people that love me, not many, but enough. and for some ****** up reason thats not stopping me from my selfishness. its not convincing me to let my darkness out.

im so confused about life and about who we are and what were suppoused to do and how everything ended up the way it did. im thinking too much nonsense, not thinking enough commonsense.

anyways, i guess ill keep living for now (probably keep cutting, keep snorting pills, and keep starving) and pray (towho???)that things get better

With the conviction of a grieving fourteen year old, I cut a thick **** deep into my vein & watched the blue beneath my skin melt into a red stream that trickled through my fingers. I didn't cut in rows, for safety. I cut in columns. I watched the gray walls that encased me fall into a dusty mass beneath my feet. I watched all of the chaos that spiraled around me grow smaller and smaller until it was nothing but a dime sized glisten before me. I heard everything fall eerily silent like the serenity of a funeral we all knew was coming; the end to a suffering. The kind of ending that makes our bones ache but lifts our hearts in a sea of  some twisted hope that we feel guilty for feeling but are still comforted by. A silence unpentrible by the anxious sirens of an ambulance headed toward my house or the hurried footsteps of my sister's cheap moccasin's headed toward my bedroom door.

That was the first time, I felt terrifed of my own hands; this sense of genuine suspense for what I'd do next as if I wasn't the one in charge of where my limbs went. The first time I ever felt that evil love for hating myself; that desire to press down harder; to clip the vein where it starts; to let myself pour out like a barrel of salt water; to become dry skin over still bones... That was the first time, I made an honest attempt to fight myself off of my own frame. The first time I ever wished I'd slept through every hour of my life up until this point just so that I'd have nothing to think about.

Well, four years later, I'm just so glad I made it out because the happiness that has grown over my skull is enough to make me cry and I don't even know that little girl who so desperately wanted to die.

Oct 2019
A Word About Coming Out

So it's National Coming Out day.
A moment to get it off your chest and say
that you're transgender, bisexual, lesbian or gay.
A lot of my friends I know feel this way.

I have brothers and sisters within Church walls
who feel this way too, but are terrifed to be called
any of these labels, lest they lose their home
and get stripped of everything they've ever known

their desires are talked about like these diseases
creases on their soul for which they could never atone
or iron out with good behavior
or the most devout times of prayer

I think of this, and my heart breaks for you
because I admit, I've been there too
wanting for things I'm afraid to say
because of the way that I could be shamed

I’m not so sure about using a label
to define an experience so unstable
yet I can't help at times but be distracted
by the reality that I'm same-*** attracted

The church, I think, is too afraid
to face the fact that there are many who feel the same
we shame these desires from a distance,
talking like it's us VS them, as if that ecplises
the fact that this can happen to any of us

can we trust that Jesus is not afraid of this?
That his body is meant to be a safe haven
not a place where anyone fears being hated
for things they have no idea how how to change
as if anyone had a clue in the first place

There’s been too many to suffer in silence
Too many have succumbed to violence
Because of feelings they never asked to feel
and pain we don’t seem to think is real

I know what the Bible says, and I know it’s true
but Jesus never beat someone with it like we seem to
he calls us to repentance, but we act like we don’t need to
Yet our sin of silently allowing this abuse is something that made Christ bleed too.

So can we have a conversation, no debate
that we speak the truth in love, not hate
That we come forward with open arms
Repenting of our silent harm

Brother, sister, I’m so so sorry
That I wouldn’t have raised up an army
to fight for your right to exist with me
because my own secrets kept me hiding

So I’m deciding here and now
to let you know you’re loved, somehow
and I pray before life’s final breath
I can know Christ’s love stood the test.