Writing for me, like it is for many others, is an escape. It's a welcoming sanctuary from the pain of everyday life. It's a way for me to say all the things I'd never be able to say in person. Letters I've written, poems I've reciteted fromthe depths of my heart, all the things I couldn't catch my breath enough to say. The heartbroken goodbyes and emotional love-filled I couldn't quite say without breaking into tears. I write because writing is my voice.

There were days when I wanted nothing more but for the end to come. I wanted it all to be over. Days past by in blurs and flashes of colors. My eyes blind to the real beauty of everything around me. Everything except for him. It's always him. The only thing in focus in my world of blurry memories filled with tears and pills. Now here I sit staring out my window wondering why I was so blinded by love. My brush strokes the canvas covering it in a color other than black for the first time in a long time. I sit here finally painting the beauty I see rather than the darkness I believed to cover the world. Suddenly everyhting is bursting with color and it was worth living to see.

Old year out. It feels like not that long ago I was starting my last year of high school. My senior year. So much has happened and yet it feels like nothing at all. A lot of firsts and just as many lasts. My first real crushing heartbreak and my last time thinking I needed a relationship to be happy. The New Year is a fresh start. It's cheesy but "new year new me." This year will be the year that I stop seeing myself as the person I'm not but instead as the person I'm going to be.

Dear My Love,

Was she worth it? Was she worth the pain you caused me? The never ending thoughts of why I wasn’t good enough. Was her body worth the price of me thinking mine wasn’t enough for you? Was her love better than mine? What did she offer that I couldn’t?

You told me that you loved her. You said you loved me more. You tell me she broke your heart but, if she asked, would you go running back with arms wide open? Do you still love her? I wouldn’t blame you if you do. Even after all we’ve been through, my one true love is still you.

I’m writing this knowing that I’ll never have the courage to send it to you. Maybe one day I will. Maybe that’ll be the day I finally tell you that all those times I say that I’ll “ttyl” are the same times that all I can think about is the fact that every cute thing you say to me is something I don’t doubt you said to her. “Sometime I forget to breathe but that’s usually when I look at you.” That made me smile, before I started wondering how many times you stared at her with adoration in your eyes saying that she takes your breath away. How many late nights you spent on the phone laughing about nothing and smiling for hours until you fell asleep. How many first times you had that I wish could’ve been with me.

You wonder why I stop talking for hours but I can never bother you with my reasons because, no matter what, I never want you to feel bad about what happened. I don’t want you to blame yourself for breaking me. I always knew that love was a dangerous game but I never knew what it meant to risk your whole heart.

I don’t regret staying by your side and I don’t believe that I ever will. I’m not naive enough to believe that I’m the only girl you’ve loved or even the only girl you’ll love. I just wish that I could be the last.

Love,

Your Bestfriend

Do you ever just think about ending it sometimes? By "it" I mean everything. Living, breathing, existing. The whole shebang. Does it all just get too much sometimes? They say that I have everything to live. A future, happier days with more ahead of me. Maybe it's just teenage angst or constant self-torture but living just gets tpoo hard sometimes. People say I have everything in life. They say I have no reason to be sad. A loving family, friends, a great relationship. They don't understand what goes on inside my head.

There are days when I don't feel like functioning but I have to put on a smile and go. There are days when I cry myself to sleep because of the simple fact that I wish I would just disappear. They don't know what I see everytime I look in the mirror. The flaws and unending self-hatred. "I'm just tired." "I'm just a little stressed." "I'm fine." I've said these things so much it's like a one of those toys that has 3 catchphrases.

Nights of attempting to drink away the thoughts of what's wrong woth me. The attempts to sleep off every bad thought. No motivation to leave my bed but still the expectation to live by everyone around me. "Stop being so lazy." "Why aren't you eating?" "Why don't you talk?" The same questions and comments like a basic routine with those around me.

They just don't understand. Sometimes it all gets to be too much.

People say that when you die you'll see a white light or something like that.They say you'll go some place better or, for some others, worse. Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory. The three options, right? I don't think so. What if instead of having ourselves judged by God, or whoever you believe in, we're not judged at all. We simply just keep living. Not in the alive, breathing, beating heart kind of living. I'm talking about the kind of living where you can finally cross all that crap off your bucket list. You never got to see the Buckingham Palace? Or got to sky diving? In the afterlife, you can be more alive than you ever were before.

The ticking of the clock sped to match the racing of my pulse. I could hear the pounding of my heart beat as I sat reading the last thing I would ever. I could no longer take the torture that is living. Living, breathing, existing, it all just seems wrong. After what I've done, my lapse in sanity caused me to ruin the one thing in my life that was good and pure. I can't take this anymore! I can't take this guilt. I can hear his heartbeat. This is driving me insane. I've got to get out of here. There has to be somewhere, anywhere, that can help me get rid of this noise. The ticking won't stop! I can still feel his pulse fading slowly between my hands. I can hear his hands hitting in the hardwood floor as he thrashed like a fish out of water. I want this all to stop! Just one step and this will all be done. My final step. My final breath. In and-

"I'd love to tell you more but my brain just keeps going blank!"

I tried to remain calm but I could tell by the end of this whole thing I would be furious. I've been sitting in this stupid room for the past week. I only left it when I had to leave the bathroom, other than that I just sit here. The same white walls with little blue birds painted in random spots, the same small bed with white sheets and blue fluffy blanket, and the same bright white fluorescent light in the middle of the ceiling. 

"Come on, just try to remember something else. I promise this is the last time we'll ask you. After this you can go back home," she spoke in a quiet and soothing voice. The same kind of voice you'd use when speaking to a child.

"I told you I don't remember anything else!" This lady is really starting to test my patience. I don't know how much longer I can deal with her annoying and futile questions. 

"Fine. I'll leave but just know, this is the last time I am going to come in here and ask nicely," she said as she got up and left my room. 

"Finally," I sighed in exhaustion and relief as she walked out. She had been in here all morning but that was no surprise. She'd been coming here for almost a month now; it had pretty much become routine. 

She would come here every morning at and we'd sit here for hours or at least that's what it felt like, I don't really know for sure, they don't let me have a clock in here. I guess they think letting me have anything glass is too much of a risk. I'm not allowed to have glass, metal, or even plastic, so the utensils I use to eat are, well, nonexistent. I only eat sandwiches and other finger foods, basically anything not requiring a fork, spoon, or knife. I don't blame them, you wouldn't either if you knew why I was in here.

I don't blame them for keeping me here but I still hate it nevertheless. It's very boring and the only thing that keeps me somewhat busy is the endless supply of books they have here. Since I've been here I've read over 100 different books. The books are my only escape from this place. I've been here for almost 5 months and I hate being stuck here. 

"April showers bring May flowers, at least, that's what my big sister used to tell me. That was before she left for college. Before she left me here in this godforsaken place. This place is a living nightmare. This place is what most call "high school,"but I like to call it "the torturous purgatory before adulthood." 

I like to think of myself as the only moderately sane person here. However, I'm not sure everyone else sees it that way. The people here are completely nuts, wacko, they've got more than just a couple of screws loose in their heads. I, on the other hand, am completely somewhat normal. Then again, that's exactly what a crazy person would say, isn't it? Oh well, I guess being crazy is better than being normal around here. Normal for these weirdos is constant creepy smiles and passive aggressive comments with overly sweet attitudes. It's all so fake.

I'm not talking fake like imaginary, no, I'm talking fake like cold, hard silicon barbie dolls fake. These people are faker than my love for cauliflower and let me tell you, I HATE cauliflower. It's actually kind of funny though. Everyday I wait for them to break character or to completely just give up the act. It's happened a couple of times but no one ever mentions it. 

I've tried to bring it up before but everyone just goes along like it was never even said. I guess I just don't really fit in here. I don't doubt that the people here think I'm completely mental. I break all of their dumb little rules all of the time. I skip school, I blare my music driving through town, I drink, and I even tried to throw a party once but no one came. Everyone else abides by the rules like their lives depend on it. I mean, come on, have some fun once in a while. The people here are blander than water. 

I just wanted to add some excitement to the town. There was never any until I did all of this." I took a deep breath and looked him dead in the eyes and finished my long winded confession.

"And that, Officer, is why I had to murder my twin."

In a city far far away lived a girl. But not just any girl. This girl could do anything. She knew nothing about fear or anxiety. She lived her entire life by her rules and by her standards. She cared very little about about what people thought. She did, however, care about what they did. She studied them. She was, as most people called it, a people watcher. She watches how they act with others and how they treat the world. She didn't know what fascinated her more, the fact that people could be so kind or that they could be so cruel.

It seemed so surreal how the people in this world acted with less humanity than the animals. At least animals killed out of need and not for sport or fame. Life's true worth is merely ignored and belittled. Love is so rare and taken for granted. Happiness is scarcely found in the world these days.

She was astounded by the new lows people could go to day after day. The gruesome and horrific acts people could commit. Even the stupidity and obliviousness of the people who chose to ignore it all. The people who chose to ignore the bad things in life like they would just disappear if no one paid it any mind. But sadly that's not how life works.