Goodbye, My Friend

You’re my best friend, this hurts to say.

But sometimes your actions get in the way.

We’ve partied together through all the rough tears.

Promised we’d be friends for years.

I called you my sister, my lover at times.

You’d call me yours, and I’d call you mine.

Our friendship stayed true, and this is hard for me to do.

But I have to say goodbye.

Goodbye to our memories,

Goodbye to great food,

Goodbye to sleepovers,

It’s goodbye for good.

We no longer work on this bike built for two.

It’s no longer us;

It’s just me, and just you.

My tears will mean nothing, and neither will yours.

There are separate journeys for us to explore.

I loved you so much,

I’ve tried and tried.

But this is the last time I’m saying goodbye.  

Snacks

Crunch, munch, salty snack.

Crumbs on my face and on my back.

Fried delight, airy flavor.

Snacks for days, I love to savor.

Bag of chips, you know you’re mine.

Reaching into an empty bag,

Breaks my heart and makes me sad.

Buy new chips, such a treat.

Love to buy them, love to eat.

Midnight Waves

Way above the moonlight sky,

Little angels sing playfully by.

Out below and beneath the trees.

The soft white snow, and crunchy leaves.

Swish and sway,

The angels play

Jumping from the stars.

Dancing and prancing all night long.

Wondering where they are.

Heal

Don’t cut too deep,

Be careful, my dear,

Don’t cry, beautiful.

Your makeup might smear.

The scars on your arms,

They bring me to tears.

Releasing all of your sad, sad fears.

You don’t need more.

You sting and you’re sore.

I love you so much, my dear.

So stop all the harm,

All those people are wrong!

Your beautiful soul will heal.

The Thirsty Thief

Drink me, the bottle said.

Drink, drink, drink, I don’t want you dead.

Refresh yourself, renew thy thirst.

Drink, drink, drink until you burst.

Waterfalls and slow, cool streams.

Rain clouds and showers consume your dreams.

Revive your body!

Alive you and me!

Drink up my friend and drain the sea.

Luscious liquids flow down your throat.

Don’t drink too fast; my dear you’ll choke.

Drain me down, feel my power.

Drink, drink, drink until the next hour.

Drown in me! Let me in!

Let me cleanse you from all your sins!

You splash and you struggle,

While I create bubbles

From the blood you gave to me.

Mix and swirl, Kill the girl.

Don’t let her up to breathe.

I want your soul, you sad little girl.

I am the Thirsty Thief.  

One Pill, Two Pill. Red Pill, Blue Pill

Prescription meds, I thank you.

For keeping me sane, I had no clue.

How effective you are, treating my brain.

No longer suffering, no longer insane.

Effexor XL, Wellbutrin;

Abilify and Bacitracin.

The list could go on,

But I don’t want to brag,

About the prescription meds that I take,

That make me not sad.

Forgiveness

I can’t forgive you, dad.

I can’t forgive you, mom.

I acknowledge that I’m mad.
Don’t tell me to move on.

I’ve lived with so many fears.

Stained on my face are tears.

Nightmares every night.

Constantly battling myself;

I fight.

I fight my dreams,

I fight my scars.

I want to forget so badly

I don’t want to hold it against you guys,

I just want to be happy.

I’m afraid to bring up the past,

I can’t let you know.

I’m not sure how I’ll last,

With this secret as it grows.

Locked In

Locked in a cage,

No way to get out.

Life full of rage,

They scream and they shout.

Locked in this cage,

I’m so hurt and scared of them.

So young and so brave,

I just want the pain to end.

Months in this cage,

I need time to slow down.

I’m now at that age,

Where I am free to move around.

I wish I was leaving this cage,

So that I could heal.

Break out of this cage,

To finally feel.

Relapse

I relapsed... again.

Not for the second time, or the third time.

I've lost count of the number of times to be honest. 

I make these promises to people that I just can't seem to keep.

I hate lying to them.

I'm weak. 

I don't know what else to do.

I've been trying to keep it together, but now I'm just falling apart.

I can't hide them, my cuts; they're right there, right next to the others.

My "collection" keeps growing, like hoarders who drown in all of their junk.

I'm never happy.

Sometimes I really feel at ease and happy, depending on who I'm with.

But when I'm alone with myself, my emotional mind takes over and overwhelms me with sadness.

I feel like there aren't enough meds in the world that can help me.

I want to cry. I want to disappear. I want to leave everything I know and love...

It's hard--

--Hard feeling these feels.

--Hard knowing that I'm disappointing everyone again.

--Hard that I know that I will never be free of these bad feelings

--Hard trying to live a certain way that'll make everyone trust me.

Relapse.

Going back to old bad habits.

Progressively gets worse the more you do it.

How does one break a habit?

Until I find the answer to that question, I'm just going to do what I do best.

Today, last night.

Last night I dreamt about a noose.

There were two girls.

It wasn't me.

They both held a single, large noose.

One girl was smiling; she was going to hang herself.

There was also a very high beam.

It seemed endless and shot up into the sky.

That's where she was going to hang herself.

Smiling.

She just kept smiling.

In my dream, I saw myself.

I looked at the girls, then turned away from them.

I was sad; I didn't want to look at their smiling faces.

The noose was hung, and I knew they were about to do it.

I looked at the girl once again.

She had the noose around her neck, and she was still smiling.

Biggest smile that I've ever seen.

I turned away and started walking.

I was with my friends; our arms interlinked.

They started talking to me, but I couldn't hear what they were saying.

I just knew that I was laughing. 

I never looked back at the two girls.

I knew that she jumped.

I knew her lifeless body was hanging there on that endless beam.

I knew she still had that smile on her face, but I just kept on walking.

The Beauty of Blood.

I've never been squeamish at the sight of blood.
I found a beauty in it, actually.
When I was younger, I remember getting a scrape on my knee.
I'd cry as most children would; however, I was calmed by the blood dripping from my wound, and down my knee.

The scabbing was one of my favorite parts.
It was the most satisfying experience of my life.
I would get yelled at for picking, but I would still pick.
I didn't care.
I just knew it made me feel happy.
Maybe that's where it all began, the self-harming.
The problem with picking was all of the scarring that came with it.
Scars were little reminders of the pain, stinging, and crying.
I learned to deal with them.
My mom hated them; she made me feel ashamed.

I was -- am -- a clumsy person, so scrapes and cuts would happen quite often.
Growing up, I learned how to be a bit more graceful, but I started picking up a new habit: skin picking.
I always felt like there were things under my skin that just had to come out.
Once again, the satisfying feeling would consume my being.
It became an addiction.

As life got more complicated, I began experimenting with cutting.
I heard about the kids who got made fun of for doing it.
Somehow, they interested me.
There was a meaning behind those cuts.
I wanted to know the meaning.
After a day of bullying from the girls in my class, I was fed-up.
I wanted to cry, to let out the pain I felt inside.
Cutting immediately came to mind.
I remembered when I was a child and how blood fascinated me.
The beauty of it to me was unreal.
My emotions were now taking part in my actions.
I no longer cried and sat with the pain inside.
Cutting was always there to take away my sadness.
Cutting was my friend; something I could rely on.
I didn't want to stop.
I couldn't stop!
I knew I had to keep this a secret from my mom cus I knew she would try to make me stop; make me leave my happy place.
If she loved me, she'd have to love all of me; scars and all.

I would never talk about my guilty pleasure with anyone.
They wouldn't understand the happiness it brought me.
To this day, I still engage in this "ritual" of alleviating my sorrows.
It no longer provides happiness for me.
It's more of a punishment now.
I don't know if I'll ever stop.
I can't neglect my childhood memories.
It is a part of me and will forever be...

The Heart Abortion

I had another vivid dream again. These happen almost every night. In this dream I was holding a small heart in my hands. I was cupping it gently, making sure I didn't drop it. It wasn't a Valentines Day kind of heart. It was a real human heart. It felt cold and dead in my hands, yet it was beating. It was a very faint beat, though. I began resuscitating the heart to help it beat. The beats became stronger and the heart started warming up. It was now beating strong and steady. I didn't want to disturb the rhythmic beat in my hands. My dad was in my dream, as usual, but he didn't do much. He was just present. I saw the expression on his face: anger. He started yelling at me, but no words came out. All I wanted to do was protect the heart. I started running with it safely cupped in my palms. The beating slowed down. It was dying. I looked at my hands and the heart was gone. Instead, an empty placenta sac laid in its place. I still felt very protective of it, just as I was with the small heart. Once again my dad showed up. This time he grabbed my arm. The sac fell from my hands and hit the concrete. I was devastated. All that was left was the liquid puddled on the ground. It was like a water balloon that was thrown on the ground and had burst. I tried gathering the liquid mess but it soon washed itself away. I just knelt there with a blank expression on my face. I had nothing now. My dad walked up to me and gestured for me to get up. I was silent the whole time as we began walking toward a building. I was given another cold heart; this time by my dad. He placed it in my hands, but I noticed that the heart was different than the first. It did not beat, not even a faint beat was present. I just stood there in my dream, gently cupping the cold, lifeless heart.

Home?

I don't have a home.
I've had a home, but that was a long time ago.
Home is a place that is supposed to make you feel safe.
Where I live; it's a place that is full of anger, screaming, crying, pain, and hate.
I'm constantly reminded of all the tears I've shed, as well as memories that I've made.
I still don't consider it home.
They say that "home is where the heart is."
In that case, I don't feel like I have a heart anymore.
Maybe that's why I've felt so lost and empty.
When I'm in my room, my supposed "safe place," I'm constantly scared and on guard.
I know what's on the other side of that door, and I don't like it.
Open, close, open, close.
That's all a door does.
It let's in my fears, but it doesn't keep them out.
My only way of escaping and finding my true home is when I go to sleep.
But my fears seem to follow me in my dreams, and I can't get away!
There are few days when I have normal dreams, not good dreams, just tolerable ones.
Sleep is the closest thing to death, and that's where I believe home is.

Where is the Love (in me)?

People tell me everyday that they love me.
I don't get it.
I can't accept love.
I wall it off.
I push it far, far away from me.
People say I do it cus I'm trying to protect myself.
Maybe.
But also, I don't think I deserve it.
I have so much love in my life, and so much to give.
Sometimes I feel as if I give too much love away, and I don't leave any love for myself.
"Love yourself first, before you can love anybody else," is something that is constantly thrown at me.
It sounds so simple, yet I can't grasp that concept of loving.
It infuriates me.
I begin to hate myself.
I've hated myself ever since I was a young girl.
Maybe that's where all the bullying plays a part in my life.
It has definitely taken a toll on me.
I'm walled off, but I'm still vulnerable.
I hate myself, but I love so many people.
I know how I can change, but I just can't seem to do it.
Something is holding me back.
I'm holding myself back.

Normal.

There are days when I just feel normal.
Nothing goes through my mind.
No thoughts; no memories; just blank.
It feels foreign to me.
I'm not sure if I like it.
I'm not flat, or neutral.
There is a small sense of enjoyment in life.
I'm not sure how long it will last, but I know it's a rare feeling.
I feel light.
My problems don't seem to bother me for the moment.
I have energy, euphoria, like I can do anything.
I wan't to run.
I can't stop talking, or being social.
It reminds me of the old me.
Making people smile.
People genuinely enjoying my company.
Why can't I feel this way all of the time?
I haven't been triggered yet.
I'm waiting for the storm to come.
One wrong word or thought could derail my happy train.
I'm worried now.
I don't deserve to feel this way.
I'm lying to myself.
My problems aren't real!
... but they are, and I can't pretend that they don't exist.
My mood is sloping slowly, downward.
The thoughts are invading my head.
I don't know what to do.
I'm not normal.
I never was.