this year i hope to fall in love with the one thing i hate most; living.

i hope i no longer curse the heavens for hearing the birds chirp -the glow of Helios touching my eyelids.

i hope the sound of my own voice as it sings songs of great sorrow no longer makes me pray for my defeat

i can hope all i want but what great measures it would take to achieve.

i relish in how we met

-the psychosis in us both-

i glance over hoping not to get caught

your smug remarks bring great comfort to my dazed reality

i know this isn’t forever

-this distracted and meaningless world i’m living in-

but just for a moment, it seems worth it.

my doubts and wrongs are banished yet accepted

the sound of your voice comforting my every turn

confiding in me

spinning circles around my wrongs

kissing each one with acceptance and understanding.

and with each kiss of confidence

the reality hits me

all will be well if you let it

so i lean into your arms and let all my worries fly away

i’m spinning circles ’round with you,

confiding in you

the thoughts i thought were banished

have come back to not only haunt, but linger.

tears of joy escape my eyes,

moments later turn into sadness.

these thoughts i thought were buried deep,

seem to have been kissed by sunlight.

bright as the sunrise, these thoughts now are.

and even if

i bury them once more

they always seem to resurface.

the things i think may cure these thoughts,

distract me, if you will-

always seem to fizzle out

and i realize i cannot rid myself of them

face your fear

face your thoughts

‘get over it’

for it is only a phase

-they say

if only they knew

the battle that goes on in my head

that is merely coated with zoloft.

numbing the pain-

but they still linger.

the tears flow. well great. here come the waterworks. no, i’m not okay. i’m sick of people thinking these tears are from sadness but in reality they’re so much more. these tears are a cry for help- a cry for a chance to live to see tomorrow- a cry to feel something other than pure pain. you want to help? then stop babying me, it makes me feel worse; stop acting like i just watched the saddest pixar movie or like i’ve just been dumped, no.i am in pain. you cant fix me but you can make this feel a little less horrible. i don’t need your pity. i just need someone to comfort me. not fix me. because i can’t be fixed by two arms around me and a kiss. i can’t be fixed by being around someone or having someone genuinely love me,.yes, that makes me happy, but sadness and depression are two separate things. sadness can be helped by the presence of others. depression is deeper than a simple feeling- depression is the build up of all things bad, a build up of hidden feelings- a build up of numerous things that differ for each person suffering; that all sometimes build and build into a tower so high, it’ll crash. a building so high, it’s demise is inevitable. a building that is built up to the point where it can persuade someone to take away the one thing you can’t get back.why me...why me? why us, why now? these feelings have a fool-proof way to convince me, they know their way around my brain, they know what to say to trigger me- to make me feel they understand- like a snake following its prey ready to take a gulp and be satisfied... until it’s hungry once more. you can’t get rid of it. it’s stronger than you will ever be, it’s all too much. it’s all building up. it’s ready to attack, your chance to live is gone.as you run away it gets closer and you get tired and you want to stop but you run anyway. you know you can’t escape it but you run like you can. you get to the point where you wonder why you don’t stop the running and just stop your suffering. stop telling me not to be sad. i’m not sad, i’m empty. no, things will not get better. i will be alone even with you by my side.the hunger of this snake will not give up, it makes me run. i can’t hold on, i need to stop running. i’m out of breath and my legs are giving out, i need to feel something other than this emptiness, i need to know something other than this pain, i need to wake up from this never ending nightmare... i need to end this. she cocks her gun- i sit here with his two arms around me as he leans in for a kiss.

the color of life- sadness. goodbyes- both bitter, and sweet. what drove you there? letting your eyes leak, without a sound, except the splash of yet another droplet of the salty sweet eye-liquid, adding onto the seventy-two others. is it that? or the 48 man made, raised, bloody crevices on your body? the people telling you you’re less than average? that you look like you belong in a psyche ward? too skinny? skinny? the words, the words, pouring in. waters running. “you have a purpose” “you’re here for a reason”. who said that reason can’t be to terrorize everyone, and make everyone miserable living their own lives, just by you being present? “no, you don’t do that”. but what if that’s my purpose. ten gallons in. remember that time that person compared you to the size of people at concentration camps- starving and crippled. twenty gallons. “do you think you’re beautiful? look in a mirror”; the thing i avoid. others think people like me have two best friends- the mass measuring death sentence, and or the reflective surface that solidify my beliefs. well, no. i rely heavily on my pointer finger and thumb around my arm. sit ups? never enough. the word enough means nothing. thirty gallons. “have you been eating? you look really skinny.” forced to do what i’ve been told- look. look up. the purple, beat up looking color i’ve gained around my eyes just proves my point. i turn to the side to reveal, nothing. forty gallons. “when will it be enough” little do they know i will never be happy with myself; how could someone be happy with a monster? these fragile pieces of marrow and hard stuff show through the thin material- it’s all that’s left; my angel wings. fifty gallons. “how does it feel?” what, feeling? you’re asking the wrong person. i do what i do to get closer to the thing that will make me feel. the one thing that some people hide behind- what they are scared of, i tend to invite in various ways. i want this for myself. no, it wasn’t because of shit you may have said in the fourth grade. verbal abuse is barely a factor. this is how my messed up mind works; as it always will. there is no fixing- it will grow and grow and who knows how much left of me there will be. sixty gallons. stripping off the baggy pieces of cloth i attempt to hide myself behind. stepping into the hot yet cold water. the drowsy years present themselves as i stare at “myself” in the reflection of the weapon- my life saver. head tilts back; this wasn’t a life. this wasn’t hell. this was- what was this? a fucking waste of time. “what about the ones you love?” my boyfriend- poor guy. love him too much. the fact he makes me feel, scares me. the fact i feel some sort of happiness around him- terrifying. looking at the strange tubes on my body that are heavily visible through the thin layer that protects these tubes that secure the fact i am alive- pumping life through me- the blue, disgusting looking things. a gust of wind seems to hit me. i switch focus onto the other one, covered in strange moles and marks, and again those ugly tubes. heavy breeze. i dip the now life-oozing arms into the last thing i will ever feel. i bow my head back and smile. this one’s for you. i smile thinking about how i actually felt around you. you make me so happy. you MADE me so happy. it was just too much for me. living hurt. i love you- and that scared me. everything becomes as if i were in a movie-like dream sequence, smile permanently there; like a nightmare sticks with a child. sixty gallons of liquids dyed red.

who is this

the one i thought i knew

fake smiles

my feelings grew and grew

ignored it,

i promised i would do

until it ate out my soul

which was expected, too

i’m sorry

you say on cue

i’m sure you are,

ah yes... you.

excuses.

the ability to not make a decision does more than delay,

it adds salt to the wound.

choices are hard, i must agree-

but that does not justify this

i apologize dearly,

that you blame your mind for it all

and that you cannot realize

that it was you.

the best people are the ones you need to work for.

the ones you need to be patient for, end up being worth it.

so close, yet so far.

within seconds, you can feel closer than ever before, never-mind the distance.

pain.

excruciating pain, every-time i realize how far you are.

the distance does no other than strengthen the bond,

but it also deepens the wound.

watch how a cold broken teen will desperately lean on a superglued human of proof.

- a superglued human of proof.

what would i do without this waiting game?

why is it we push away the ones who have the solution to our pain

if only we could accept the fact we need that prolonged solution.

but we do not want the help, we are cursed with that, we are.

we cannot take the help, or our sentence may lengthen, and the pressure will constrict.

after all, why waste the time, when i’ll ruin it anyway?