Thursday, November 27, 2014


Showers are one of those amazing things in life.

I feel better now.


Though you may get HAPPY poetry xDDD

Good means Better

"How's everything going?"
they ask, smiling.
I am proud to tell them, "It's going GREAT!"
I pause, continue.
"I have good grades this year,
and tons of friends.
I love all my classes,
though sometimes the teachers frustrate me.
I love choir, I sing better now,
and philosophy has a great teacher.
Drama's okay, too many freshman,
but I don't want to go to a more advanced class
because I love it being easy.
Oh yeah - I hardly ever feel depressed anymore,
and my anxiety is almost gone."
They congratulate me,
and I feel an unusual sense of love and belonging.

"Good" means better.
It means "better than before".
My depression is handled,
and sometimes I can even feel
love from others.
But still, I realize -
it is not the same
as elementary school happiness.

Last year I lost a best friend.
This year I cannot make the connections I made
with seniors I lost contact with,
it's probably my fault,
slightly theirs (but not much).
Last year classes were hard.
This year they are easy,
so I guess that much is accurate.
Last year I ran out after someone and followed them,
making sure they were okay.
This year marks 6 years of chances for someone else to do the same,
and it hasn't happened yet.
Last year I wanted to kill myself.
This year I've only wanted to escape, and certainly less times than
I have ever thought of it before.

This year is better.
And so I call it "good".

Happy Birthday, Self.

I am needy and hopeless and lonely.
I dive into spirals and I fall too fast and too hard,
I leap and I dance into "I love you"s and best friends,
I am pressing and overwhelming and LOUD,
The sort of person who gets high on life.
Because inside I am insecure and miserable;
I feel a constant loneliness, even surrounded by friends.
If you happen to read this, and care,
Trust me, it's not you.

There's something wrong with me.
I've said it over and over again.
I keep forcing myself to hope even though it's a constant source of disappointment;
Even though I'm terrified and I know it's stupid but -
Sue me for wanting to not lose another friend,
sue me for being a selfish brat -
I know I am.

But I spend my whole life worrying about others,
Being the guarantee, the person they can talk to;
In my family it's a joke because I'm the shrink.
I am 18 years old today and I am more happy than sad.
Or at least I'll try to be, I woke up early feeling different;
And I never feel different on birthdays, but today -
Today I am a legal adult and I am stronger than anyone else I know
(except maybe my mom and a couple of other people
who've gone through hell and back).

I have had friends not talk to me for months than talk to me again,
Sometimes because they need help,
Othertimes because they just forgot.
I have been told "you don't count" as a friend,
Because I am everyone's friend and always there,
So once again I am reduced to a "nobody".

Of course that's how I see myself -
My mother cannot undo the work of my peers,
Especially when some of it still comes as a surprise to her,
Some of it to the woman I tell everything to.
And still the anger, we live together, it's going to happen -
I don't blame her, it's clearly my fault.
I am lazy and useless and untrustworthy and ---

Even when people don't say these things they feel insinuated and I add them to my collection of words to murder myself with.

I am 18 years old today.
I am scared I'll lose another friend.
And why can I not find the connection I need?
Even people who are trying,
I pull back and shove myself away -
Except for my boyfriend - who I met online - and my best friend - who I met online - and the person who betrayed me because her family made her choose and she bowed down to the force of the will.

So once again I crawl into my corner,
and am forgotten.

18 years old and feeling different
sure hasn't changed much of my life.

Saturday, November 8, 2014

Stolen Time

Bye, Lacey.


Yeah, she's really gone.

15 years.  That's how long we had.

Stolen time was three months.

Three months taken where we had her.

I love you, my precious kitty.


Monday, November 3, 2014


I'm suffocating.
Dying in this old circle, unable to escape.
Same old story as others before.
I pull, I tug, I try to release;
Like the maze, the endless run,
I am not lucky I am weak.
It covers my mouth, the way it's covered all the rest;
It glues my hands until I can't move;
I am the mask.

This horrifying mystery,
The solution is obvious,
But nobody looks there.
I scream, I scream,
It's all inside;
You can't let go,
You can't show,
We've been hiding all along.

And once upon a time,
And this miracle, indeed;
I've become so involved that it's easy to lie,
The tangle, the maze, it's me.

It's become so easy to lie,
The way I match their eyes,
My only tell the clenching of my heart,
Invisible to a human's eyes.
It's become so easy to lie,
The way I match their eyes,
Stronger than the truth, as if of the words are speak,
The only ones that are true, are false.

I wonder how deep I'll go.
So far it's little, but it's daily.
I used to be so honest;
But when you're faking happiness,
Lies become the default,
Scared to let anyone in,
Scared to leave.

I'm suffocating.
I can't get it off, though I try.
The smile is a mockery, an effigy,
This is not me!
But if you burn I'll die.
It's covering my mouth, the way it's covered all my lies,
Soaking me in the smile that I hid behind.
I can't move, can't speak, can't breathe,
I am the mask,
Trapped in my own lies.