If You Really Knew Me

If you really knew me, you'd wonder about me. If you really knew me, you'd know that the world isn't as beautiful as it seems. Do you even know me? Could you guess that I was the one being bullied everyday about who I am? About my weight? About my beliefs? About what I look like? The music I like? I didn't think so. Nobody truly knows the full story behind my life, and what I've been through. Nobody has actually sat down and listened to the full extent of what has actually happened. And it's all down to one thing; because nobody really knew me. 

Did you know that I cry myself to sleep frequently? Did you know that I am haunted by scars on my hips and stomach everyday? It's hard to imagine that my mind is quite unique from the ones that I've met. It's hard to accept that I am not what people say that I am, and I still have to hear the lies and the rumors often. 

Would you guess that I was put in a ward for suicidal ideation? Could you tell by just looking at me, that I tried to take my own life in front of my Mother and Father? I figured. You can't tell these things by looking at me, but you can tell I'm broken. When I walk down the hallways everyday with my head down and my earbuds in, blasting the noise to numb the pain. You can tell by the way I walk that I truly don't want to be here anymore? The weight I carry around with me is hard to bare everyday, and it's even harder to accept, but it's easier to let it numb you. 

Did you know that every time I look in the mirror, I actually start crying? Did you know that I have thought about cutting off my own skin... just to achieve the thoughts of being skinnier? Being called fat and overweight can truly make you feel like you are. That what you see in the mirror will never be enough. That your thighs should always be a little more narrow, that your arms should be a little more thinner. That your stomach should be a little bit flatter, that your face should be a little bit prettier. It's always a thrive for perfection. Perfection; that's what killed me. Or, almost did. It's what made me want to be killed. The thirst for being beautiful, and being good enough always taunted me in my mind, and made me realize that I'll never be enough for anyone, or myself. The realization that your body will never be loved by you is the day that I almost committed suicide in front of the ones I love. 

Could you tell that I hate myself? Did you know that I can name a million things that I hate about myself, or that I'd like to change, but not a single thing that I liked about myself? It's selfish; to myself. To think that I've never given myself the time of day to improve myself, because I never cared about it that much. 

Did you know that I barely sleep? If, when you first met me, would you know that I cannot dream of beauty and a world of loveliness. Could you tell that I wake up screaming some nights; in terror and in fear? Did you know that I keep a knife under my mattress just to feel safe, or that I wake up crying because my dreams were too much to bare the past? 

Did you know that I starved myself? Did you know that I had an eating disorder? Did you know that I punished myself by not eating? I never cared about my health enough to pick up the fork. I was punishing myself, for not being good enough; hoping that my discipline would help me finally be good enough. Would you guess that for a while, I took a pill instead of eating? Did you know that every time, after I ate, I'd purge myself in hopes that it'd make me a little skinnier. Did you know that I cut out pictures of models in magazines and kept them to model off of? Just so that I could look like them. I'd motivate myself with the pictures, so that I would know what I should look like to finally be good enough for someone. Only so that someone could love me.. 

Did you know that I am actually happy? Could you notice that I met a boy, that made me feel like there was some beauty left in the world? Could you tell that he left kisses on my forehead and a smile on my lips? Would you know that he makes me feel worth it? Knowing that there is always someone there is good; but it's even better when you know that people will never 'always' be there. People are humans, and humans are cruel; they break promises they can never keep. I wanted to be independent, but being left alone with my thoughts was the worst of them all. Being left alone with myself was like being locked in a room full of demons that would never let you escape. Although, I am locked in a room with him, with his perfectness, with his love, and with him. He's a good motivation, he's a good lover, he's a good hope, and a good happiness. 

But the cruel truth is... I'm not afraid of death, I've died a thousand times before. I am afraid of breaking my Mother's heart because I died before she even had the chance to. I am scared of what comes after, I am scared of nobody loving me without me here. I am scared that everyone will be sane, and never go crazy. And the inevitable truth that I will most likely never look in the mirror and see gorgeousness and beauty is what scares me the most. That all I was, was never enough. 

The Demons

I have a darkness inside of me, but I will never be controlled. My soul is captured by the shadows of the light. I'm down to my knees, begging for the release. To release my soul from the Devil that's inside of it. He creeps in my mind and shows me what fear is. He shows me the spirits that kill each and at every moment to fulfill their need for blood. I've seen them, I've seen the souls that walk amongst us and hide themselves from the living.
Their bodies surround me in circles. Their piercing noises blow my ears, and make me cringe. There is no comprehension in what I've seen, or what I thought I saw. It's nothing that can be explained, it's something that has to be believed. As their hands reach out towards me. They want to release me from this world, and take my life right from underneath my power. I'm not one of their demons. I summon them from all the pain and the loss they've experienced.
One once asked me what death was like, even though I was living. What it's like to see the dead amongst the living, and wanting to be one of them. I simply responded with the answer of; it's similar to drowning in water, but everyone around you is floating in the water, and breathing in front of your eyes.

She's the little girl I saw sitting on the swing in the park, when nobody else could. Her hair long as her kneecaps, and black as the night sky. Her face was unknown, she wouldn't show. She swung curiously as if something had crept up on her. She's the little girl on the swing that called my name years ago, and still haunts me today. She is the one who allows me to see what others can't. She's the girl who disappeared within my eyes, and never returned. She ran from me, as if I was attempting to do something, or a threat to her nature.
He's the man who watched his lover commit suicide. A man who's wife had enough. She couldn't take it anymore. As she jumped from the reflection in his eyes, and as he watched her body smack the end of the road. His life had appeared over. He wept for his lover, as she didn't answer back, and her pulse was dead. The thoughts of never seeing her again, and him seeing her give up right in front of him, made his decide that life was over for him too. It was too hard to live on a decent life without her, it was nearly impossible. He was meaningless without her, he was worthless, and helpless with the loss of her. He embarked on the gun that he had possession of, and demanded the dead to take his life for him. As he waited for the miracle, the trigger was pulled. Through his temple, went a bullet representing loss and pain through the eyes of a lover. He died that day, but he truly died when he saw his beautiful wife's soul be taken from her by her own demons. His marks described a man in which suffered great pain and loss. Cuts on his arms, wrists, barely visible to my eyes. His face was gentle, and showed compassion and sympathy. He came to me at a time when I didn't need anyone, when I didn't want anyone. He found me. He retrieved me from my bathroom, with a razor to my hips. I took one glance up at the mirror, and saw his wonderful face waiting for the razor to hit the ground and out of my hands. I spoke, only to have him say nothing in return. He made his way over to me, caressing my wrist full of cuts, and my hips covered in blood, and created his own mural of his name in my blood. His name was Ben. He came to me, he found me, he almost stopped me, and he cared for me. He returned, only to be my protector. He watched over me, and never stood less to help me.
She appeared mysterious, and never spoke, nor did anything towards me to show any gesture, or suggest a past. Her wedding dress as long as the floor and beyond, the train ripped to pieces and blood covering the front of her breasts and her torso. The pain and torture in her eyes when she looked at you could make you think that she was a threat, or at least screaming on the inside for someone to save her. She never made a sound, not a noise. Her mouth opened, only to attempt to make a noise to come out. Nothing, nothing came out. Her silent screams made her vulnerable in the house I met her in. Her walk became a limp, and her arms were intensely stiff. Her arm reached out for me, with one hand on her mouth; trying to cover her screams, as if she didn't want to be found or saved.

These are the lives that were lost in a fight, in a war against their inner demons. The Devil is inside all of us. He creeps up in all of us every once in a while, we just don't notice. We shake it off as if it was something concerning a matter we didn't want to discuss. He is taking over the mind of all of us each and every single moment, we just don't see. Sometimes he comes out to play, and sometimes he plays his game, and sometimes; he wins.

My Angel

I'll sit and remember where I came from. I'll stand and remember where my feet once were. I'd never thought that I wouldn't care so much to a point where I would actually give up my life to someone. To put my life in his hands, and to actually live as if I live for him, and die for him when it's wanted. As I'm miles away from home, not wondering what my family will think. Whether they'll actually care, or whether they'll shake it off and wonder why, then realize that they're better off without me for a better and more meaningful reasoning. But what if I didn't care? Would it even matter? Would I even matter? My life would mean nothing once I left. Once I left and once I disappeared from the pain, misery, and the desire of death. It's alright, I'll be okay. Even so, I deserve it. I'm pathetic, I'm a nobody.
I'm just that one girl that you always see in the hallways. That goes everywhere by herself with nothing but herself and her headphones. I'm nothing. I'm the one who blasts what's in her ears just so that nobody is able to know what's on the inside. That same girl is the one who sits in the back of the classroom so that she can carry on and continue with her work without disturbance. She needs not anyone to distract her from herself or her feelings that are trapped on the inside. I'm the girl who wears jeans and a sweatshirt when it's ninety degrees outside just so that not a single soul may look upon my scars, or even remotely see them. I hide not only my emotional self, but also my physical self. My body was nothing I was ever proud of. Scars haunt me of my past and what I used to do to myself, and what I still crave to do. My fat disturbs my mind, and I cannot deal with the fact that I cannot possibly blend in with other of the girls who's bodies are beautiful, and natural. I'm the girl that's scared to walk down the hallways because of what people may or may not think of her. In fact, my body, my actions, are not quite as disturbing as the way my mind works. I look in a mirror and see a face that nobody could love, not even myself. I see a body that will never be loved by a man, or anyone for that matter. I see a useless, worthless, and selfless human being who never truly had any love for herself. A now, young woman who cannot appreciate what she's got, because what she's got gets bashed on and critiqued every day from people who know nothing about her, or what she's been through. She sees a broken heart collapsing upon herself in a mirror, imagining the glass shattering upon her and cutting through her skin; just as she had wanted all along. She pictures the glass taking her life upon her so she wouldn't have to do one thing in this world anymore; to see a little girl in the mirror anymore and see the broken, useless, and worthless young woman who puts on a mask everyday, just for the sake of her loved ones, and her own sanity.

I travel everyday in my mind. To the darkest of shadows anyone could ever see. I scatter from the light and make my way into the shadows. Where the black light lets me not see myself, where no one can. Somewhere far away, and land of known suspension. When all is lost and gone, I'll remember your love for me. Love will be the echoing in your sleep, and I'll be there. My love will be there still. Never gone, I will never leave, unless you want me to, if you're done with me or don't want me anymore.
Well at least you're still here. You're about the only one who hasn't left me yet, and left me to the darkness. The one who's helped me, and never judged me, no matter what the situation. Your touch is what brings me to my knees, and you're kiss is the one kiss that makes me realize why I've decided to stay. You're love that you have shown to me is what makes me see your beauty and your wonderfulness.
You're my angel, my guardian angel. The one who unexpectedly showed up, and showed me how much of a real human being I really am. My beauty, my intelligence, and much more. You showed me what love really is. What it means to compromise and not beat me. What it means to say I love you when you really mean it. What it means to want me every minute of every day when you grab my waist and pull me forwards. And what it means to finally release your mind to me when you kiss my passionately.
I hope one day I can finally show you how much you mean to me, whether you see it or not. I hope that one day you'll realize that the only thing that I truly want in this world is you. That the one reason I'm still here, and that I've stayed, is because you told me to, and you drove me to stay. And for most, that the only thing I wished in this world is that I hoped you could see yourself in the way that I see you, for what you really are. So you could see your love, your courage, your amazing soul, and so you could see how important you are to me, immensely.

If you remind me of one thing in this world; you remind me of the angel in the light I thought I once saw when I first decided to take my own life.

My Motivation

There is no point to living, although, there is a story to tell with every life; so why not tell it? I've gathered that we were not put on this earth to actually discover why we're here, or how it started. We were put here to live with it, to love it, and embrace it. Doesn't it feel like our time is running out? Like the time is never going to end, or finally stop.
My story has always been one to share, at least from my perspective. I grew up like a normal girl, wondering what the world was full of. Nothing to be expected of me, and certainly no reason to be suspicious of me. I was that little girl in the meadow that didn't give a care in the world about the thoughts that roamed of her in other's heads. When I was young, I grew to be normal, nothing wrong, and nothing that could ever go wrong. Once I experienced loss, and abandonment, it crushed me on the inside. Although, I didn't know it was crushing me until later on. I eventually started lying to myself, telling myself that I was okay, and that nothing was wrong. When the truth was, is that I was dying on the inside, and that I was certainly feeling alone without any acknowledgement. To my own knowledge, I didn't even know I was dying. It was all oblivious to me. Nothing had seemed right, but I was quick to assume that everything did. When life became hard, I found ways to cope with it; not very good ways, but ways. Things that nobody had ever known about me until recent. The way I use to consume large amounts of food, just so that I could regurgitate it back up. The way I'd find a razor to help me live happiness. Or the way I'd be outside riding my bike for hours at a time, wondering what had happened to me. My normal childhood, turned into a death trap; and I was okay with it.
Now, I am just a burden. Nothing to be proud of. Nothing to get excited over. I am me, but not the good me. I have changed dramatically due to my past, the stuff that no one knows anything about. Something that I chose to keep quiet for so long. In fear that it may hurt the ones I love, but now it is just my way of expressing how much I died on the inside so long ago. And to my belief, nobody actually truly cares. That is how it is with all of life. You never know or actually acquire the thought of how much somebody cares, until they're gone and you're left with nothing but yourself to deal with. It's challenging to remember a time when I didn't spend most of my night contemplating why I'm even here, or spent the night crying.
Have you ever been hurt? Betrayed? Abandoned? It kills you. Like you were a mistake. That nothing you've done or nothing you will begin to do will ever be enough for anyone. That you're worthless and not living up to one's expectations. I sit every awakening moment wondering if I'm good enough. Whether I'm actually someone's worry, someone's love, or someone's motivation. Or whether I'm just someone's hatred, someone's burden, or someone's mistake.
My quiet has been known for quite sometime now. I've always been the girl in the back, not caring about anything else in the world. I've always been the one who cannot go with crowds, the one that stays home. The one that's picked last, the one that remains silent. I'm nobody's first choice, and I've dealt with that; I think. But the real truth of the matter is that there is nobody in this world that will ever truly love you in the ways that you can love yourself. But for further excuse, I don't even love myself. I choose not to, I don't naturally. It's something I just never learned to do, something that never crept into my mind. I've always put the ones I love the most, and their needs before mine. I admire them. I let them know how beautiful, wonderful, amazing, and special they are because I don't want them feeling the same way I do; which is none of those aspects.

You know, I've asked myself numerous times before, what it's like to be happy. If I had asked myself that same question a while ago, then I wouldn't have given you an answer, because I'd say I haven't experienced that real feeling yet. Although, now I have. When I am with him, it's like nothing else. Like nothing else matters. As if the world has collapsed or disappeared within me, and that when he holds me, there is nothing else in the world that gives me much more joy. There's something about the light I see in him, the light that usual people don't really give sight to, that brings me hope. There's something about the way he smiles, the way he jokes around with me, the way he kisses me, that makes me feel like there's something actually worth living for. Something worth remembering, something worth the time to look back on in my later years, when I am still with him.
I see him, and love him. I notice him, and smile. He makes me feel worth the time, beautiful, and wonderful from the inside to the outside. He holds me as if everything in life has already been achieved, and he has nothing more to do. He caresses me like there is more to life than me, that everything he loves, and everything he wants, is in his arms. Perhaps even the way he looks at me. The way he stares into me with those hazel eyes, and glances at the beauty he sees in me. Something about the way he moves, the way he speaks, just everything. It amazes me how much a person can really achieve to be so perfect. In another way, he makes me feel safe. Like nothing will ever hurt me or come close to the pain I've felt before. He tells me it'll be okay. And no matter how small a problem, or how minuscule a situation may be; if it bothers me, I'll speak and he'll listen. It brings me absolute happiness to know that there is someone out there that truly loves me, and will always be there for me, through thick and thin. It's too early to say I love him, but it's true, isn't it? I do love him. He says he loves me too. No matter if it's actually the truth, or the right timing, who cares? I will continue to love someone, for that is what brings me complete happiness in the world. I'll keep him forever, because that's what he deserves. Someone who will enjoy his presence, and someone who will non-stop be his one and only love. I'll keep him, hold onto him, for he is my one motivation.

My Silence

As I'm left again, as I have been abandoned again. For the second time I've realized that I am nothing, I do not mean anything in this world. My existence is simply only a presence, it has no definition, and does not conquer the world with happiness, only darkness and pain. Now, at least it does. My heart actually aches of depression, and my body dies on the inside only to show what pain I've consumed. I guess a bottle can't save my life, nor take it away. I remember hearing it, and thinking "Why?", and "Why me?". Why is it always me that has to have my heart broken for the same reason. It's been played with, tortured, and tormented with. Does it not mean anything? Or, perhaps; I don't have a heart. You know... they left me, they told me I didn't matter, they didn't care what happened to me, they didn't need to understand how I was feeling, they didn't listen... And you couldn't live very long without a heart. Mine has been pulled out, tormented, stabbed, and thrown to the ground, as will my life. When will I actually be loved? I've been told that I'm so loved, and that I'm cared for as if any other person would feel the same. But my realization that everyone is just saying it because it's required is killing me. Although, the pain doesn't feel the same anymore. It's more of a numbing feeling. As if it's happened too many times before to the point where I don't feel a thing anymore. I'm used to the silent crying every night, for hours, I'm used to the knife hitting my skin whenever life gets too rough, I'm used to the piercing sounds of ones harassing me, I'm just simply used to it. I'm frozen inside, maybe not with the same intensity as how frozen my life is.
Sometimes, it just feels as if I've fallen asleep, and I haven't saved myself from the nothing I've become. Like I need to wake up from the nightmare that falls beneath me. Tonight, I realize that there's only one thing that I've engaged in that will always guarantee me happiness, and will always love me unconditionally. It's love hits my skin as it's sharpness caresses my scars, and shows me what the pursuit of my life is really suppose to be about. It whispers to me sometimes, and it's referred to as my blade, my razor. My token of hope.
I scream for help, on the inside. I cry for someone to save me from myself, for someone to show me love. But nobody listens, I'm rejected, I'm ignored, and most of all, hushed. As if what I say, or what I think doesn't matter. I know it may not mean much, but it does absolutely mean something at most. Inside my head, thoughts and words I should've said. I suffocate in my regrets. I can't take back anything, but the things I never said, and the things I never did. There's a possibility... that all that I've done, is useless, and worthless, like myself. All I've wanted to say, all I've wanted to do, is wait for someone, to hear me. Wait until they hear my silence, and notice my absolute nothing.

I'm sorry for whatever I've done. For being ungrateful, for never being enough, for never doing as much, for never helping myself, for never being the daughter, friend, lover, and beautiful woman you wanted me to become. I'm sorry for what I've said, for what I didn't say, for what I should've done, for what I've done, for what I've should've said. But now everything's going to be okay. Everything will fall into place. Love will be the echoing in my ears, when everything is lost and destroyed. And when hope is gone, and my arms and legs are under, my love will be there still. For you're the only one who can see my panic in my eyes, and you can kiss me and hold me when I cry. The essence of you makes me feel like I'm worth it, even though I know I'm not. It makes me feel a little less out of place in the world. Just don't hurt me like the rest, tear my heart to pieces like the others. Please. I'm too weak to handle that, I'm not strong enough to carry my heavy heart of what it's been deprived of. And I think I know what I've become. Do you see what we've done? We're gonna make such fools of ourselves. You've taken everything from me, and I love it. But I don't know why, why I stay, why I love you so much. You degrade, understate, and shame me. I just can't crack your code, but your safe is with me.

What if I asked you? What if I asked you to just do it... would you? If you loved so much, and enough  to never life without me. And we achieved it together, we achieved happiness. Forever, or not at all. If I took the gun, and you took the kiss. Would you really do it with me? When all else failed, and we had nothing left in life but pain and regret, would you pull the trigger with me? Killing two birds with one stone. If you take the gun, and put in up to my temple, our cheeks adjacent to each other, would you do it? If I just asked to take my life away, with yours. Together. If we were so assured that nothing in our life would ever go the way we planned it to be, ever again. It seems as if going together shows the romantic and the beautiful. Our deaths would be nothing more than an attempt to save ourselves from the world, just an unknown attempt. Thank you. Thank you for going, thank you for promising me, thank you for jumping with me, thank you for dying with me, thank you for being my light, for being my rock, for being my hope, thank you for never giving up on me, thank you for allowing me to not feel the cold anymore.
Thank you for letting me give up with you.

For You

I thought about you today; as I do every day. Yet, it was different today. I thought of you in a greater depth than usual. I thought of you in a different perspective. I didn't know how to take it, or how to perceive it. I just, simply thought. Your memories is what brings me hope. Allowing me to know that there was once some happiness in the world, some level of hope and self being inside of me. I remembered you at your best, and most certainly at your worst. There is nothing I wouldn't do in this world, nothing that I wouldn't give up, just to see you. Just to caress you one last time. To actually say Goodbye, rather than hearing a loved ones screams over your sudden death. I'd rather hear your lovely voice assure me that everything will be alright, and no harm will become of me anymore. I am ashamed to have passed upon the thought that you will never realize how loved something is until it's gone. I always thought of you, and was always excited whenever I got to see you. And when I did, I would always try and be near you, somehow try and make my way over to you. Your hugs was what I admired most about you. You were never shy, towards anyone. The most outgoing hugs is what I missed the most. The ones where you would hesitate to let you, where you would always leave with a kiss on the cheek in the end. You allowed me to know that I was loved once and for all by someone other than immediate family. I'd be a bit bummed when you had to leave, but timelessly grateful for even having you here. My past memories are a bit of a blur, but something that I'll never forget, or even remotely try and let go of. It brings me peace to know you're in a better place, and that nothing can hurt you anymore. You brought me happiness every time I saw your face, the way you showed me you were trying. You were studying the ways that you could've improved, impressed us and make us somehow forget what you were truly trying to hide from all of the ones you loved...

You had a problem. I get that. I did too, and I still do, and always will. Everyone will. You hid something from me that I was struggling with as well. I understand what you were going through. It was an addiction. I often forget that was even the cause of your loss, I never even remember the bad parts of why you're not here. I always search for the light first, before stepping into the shade. I have knowledge of why you didn't let me know, and I get that. I would've done the same. I would never get mad at you for what you hid, because it was the better thing. You hid it from someone as small that wouldn't grasp that situation. No matter who you really were, what you did, what you achieved, or what you regretted, I still love you. I never stopped. You were always my motivation, and you will continue to be for the rest of my life. But for what I've done, I'm going to stop. I am ending this endless path of pointless bullshit. I'll remember what is good in life, and I'll enjoy what is still here, while I still am. Everything I will do in life, will be significant, and will be meaningful. Whether it is for myself, or for the ones I love. You'll be in my thoughts.
I'm sorry.. I'm sorry you have to look down and see what I've become. What I've done to myself. What you are witnessing is a death sentence that was planned on happening a long while ago, and isn't anymore. Although, you are also witnessing someone who is becoming to see a lot of the beauty and happiness that life is bringing her. Her academics, her family, her one love, her friends, herself, and her music. I've brought myself to more meaning in life than just messing everything up, to not caring about anything or anyone. I've brought myself to believe that everything you do in life will always reflect on who you are, and you can always change that, and your reflection. I'm changing Auntie. I promise. I'll no longer mourn myself over your passing, rather than welcome the knowledge of knowing that you were here, and that you will always be in my heart. So, in actuality, you're not gone, you're just invisible. Thank you, for letting me know what was really important in life. You were certainly one of my most important aspects.
You know what, I still have your beads. Every now and then, I'll look at them and think of you. I'll grab them closely and lay down on my bed and relax with them. It lets me know that you are here with me, whether I can see you or not. To know that they aren't even the least of them, and that you have others stored in boxes. Your beads are your trademark, your one representation that I love to go by. It's something that I've always kept in mind since you've left. I've only heard my own cries, and my own silent screams for you, and now I've heard the Jazz playing in New Orleans. Your favorite place in the world. The one place you can flash yourself without getting in trouble for it on Mardi Gras. The one thing I wanted most was to experience my very first Mardi Gras with you in New Orleans. I know now that's never going to happen, but I'll go there whenever I think of you. Maybe even share a bit of the same alcohol too. Laugh a little, sing some Jazz, relax with some Blues. Think of the you that you left me to reminisce upon.

Well, at least I have more to remember you by. I'm glad to have known you, to have hugged you, and to have been loved by you. I'm sorry for what's been going on, and I'm holding on for you, and only for you. I know I didn't get to see you much when you were sick, and that is my biggest regret. I should've been there for you more, but I couldn't look at you without having tears pour out of me. My redemption will be shown soon, I will prove it to you, because you deserve it. You will always be my inspiration, and my motivation to keep holding on, and to survive. I'll see you someday, just not today, or anytime soon. I'll see you when my happiness has come to an end. Maybe then I'll enjoy your company for one last time. But until then... I love you, I always will. Stay beautiful, Keep it ugly. I'll see you soon my Crazy Cat Lady.

Happenings

I often wonder why things have happened to me, why I ask for the attention of people. Yes, I am a true writer. I want people to hear my story, in the true depth that someday someone will understand it, and maybe it'll allow them to question whether their life is worth giving up as well. Of course, I don't have it as bad as many people, I've realized that. Everyone has, or if not yet, Everyone will. I've written upon a piece of paper contemplating my own life, wondering what the hell I'm doing here, pondering on what there is left in the world for me. My attention-seeking, loving self couldn't handle the fact that the world actually had some good left in it for me.
For some odd, and unexplainable reason, I wanted it to be bad. Perhaps because I actually needed a reason, and not an excuse, to take my own life. I needed some poor liability for people to try and grasp the fact that I was finally gone. But that's just it... I never wanted to leave; I just thought that I always meant to. I always thought that because of what I've done, where I've been, and what I've seen, is something that should not be held on hell on earth. And something that should never be repeated again. Well, it's too late for that now, now isn't it? I'll never understand this world, which is something that cannot be easily accepted, but it's the truth. Maybe it's time to stop hiding, and masquerading the truth, and let it have it's day. Let it makes it's way. This world shouldn't feel so empty.

"I lost my mind before I knew what it meant to be sane."

There's one thing that I've been trying to find the courage to say for a long period of time. It's the courage to say that I'm okay, and I'm happy. To say that who I am right now, and what I'm going to do and be in my future, is exactly what I want, and great. Where I am right now, is a place where I can grow and heal; somewhere where I can appreciate life at it's finest. A while ago, I would've seen this place as a living rot, a place to die. Now, I see it as where I lost myself, where I devoured myself through my mind, and where I couldn't get into touch with the real reality of the world. A location in which I isolate myself in a corner every night and made myself think about all that I've done and seen in the past, where my dwelling literally almost murdered me. Yes, I'll admit; I could've and wanted to commit a long while ago, where I thought I could have been happier, where my life would've actually made sense then. Though, it makes more sense now than ever. Truly loving someone doesn't exist unless you love yourself. My conclusion, is that I do love myself, I truly do. It's only now that I'm realizing that it was the hate of others that didn't, but that's what traumatized me. I was filled with inaccurate things that didn't even make sense, but either way, I still believed them. Now, I don't. It's all in the past, somewhere in a lost place that will never have any visits from me again. I've moved on, I've deprived everyone that didn't love me before, and removed them. Ones that hurt me- gone. Ones that took advantage of my loveliness and caring self- gone. But most, ones that abandoned me- gone. They are finally, all gone.
I've illuminated all loss and pain from my life. Now it's time to start fresh. With everything.. New Sophomore year, New family remembrance, New man to help me continue to be happy and show me the world. But also, a new me. I'm going to make the most of life for this one year. To make it better than the rest, to make it something to remember by; the year that I finally grew up and realized that I'm loved. What I've done wrong, is that I did absolutely nothing. I didn't stand up for myself when it was needed. My mind was in a state where I consistently thought it was alright to let people stomp, kick and verbally abuse me. Now, I'm not letting that happen. No matter how small, weak, or dreary I am; I am not going to let that happen to me, or let alone, anyone else.

"Yes, even though I may be crazy, insane, or maybe even abnormal; I like it. I am loved, cherished, and most of all, respected. That's what we need to remember the most in life. All of us, together."

I lay in my bath, wondering what I would've done to myself in here a long while ago. Whether I would've picked up my razor, or ducked under the water willingly. Now, I sit here, letting the bubbles consume my precious body, and I remember that life has more to offer than what I only see now. My body is what I've described as disgusting, rigid, and maybe too much to handle. Only... Now it's mine. It's mine, nobody else's, so who cares? I lay here, in the warm water, closing my eyes to what I cannot see, but feel. Yet, the only thing I ponder upon is... What would happen if I did leave?