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?

Be Still

I never even imagined a world with someone or something so special, that their presence would actually persuade me of staying for longer. Someone or something that could change anything and everything. I had given up at that point, I didn't seem to care for my existence or my well being. It didn't occur to me that what I was doing to myself would get me in trouble, or at least in a state where I couldn't think of anything good about myself. I would stay up for hours each night, regretting things that happened in the past, and wondering why they even happened. Yes, I was a dweller. I couldn't help it either. My memories were never to be faded, and they could not be erased or forgotten. My memories, Well... they were about the equivalency of my enemies. They haunted, taunted, and teased my soul. But most regretfully, they robbed me of my sanity in my mind. They made me see things, connect into my subconscious, and say things that I didn't think I could have the stomach to say. I was alone, and helpless. I was awaiting, for someone, something.

Then it was him. A man, not a boy; a man took the time to acknowledge me, and remember all the good about me. His arrival for me was a little early, and he came at a perfect time. Our conversations led into me telling him things that I've never told anybody, things that I would not have been able to tell some of my closest friends. Then, we got to know each other a lot more. He spoke of conversation that I will never forget. Things that I loved.  Things that made me wonder why I had even contemplated leaving in the first place; and why I would want to leave. It sickened me to know that I could leave such a place, with such beautiful and wonderful things; such as himself. What I saw him, he didn't see in himself. I pondered on the thought of how I could make him see, to make him realize. For he did the same. He'd spoken of things that I had never heard come out of someone else's mouth.
He simply made me feel alive; like I was worth living. Just for him, and myself. Like nothing else mattered when it came to him and I. It made me realize that there is always something you can live for. Whether it's for yourself, or for someone you love. I thought about him every single day, wondered what he was doing, wanting to hear his voice for the millionth time. I pictured him always; picturing him and his wonderful smile, like the one he made at me. His curiosity of me made me want him and love him even more than before. Yes, I love him. He is my everything, my only thing, and the one thing I want. His presence sets my heart at ease, and makes me tune out everything else in the world. As if nothing else mattered, or nothing else settled easily. Seeing his loving soul makes me want to never leave, and want to stay, only with him. Although that would be nice, I know it's too much to ask. My wishes are too much to ask, especially when it comes to a special one such as him. All I've wanted to say was I'm sorry... for wishing upon too much of you.

"Are you strong enough to stand, protecting both your heart and mine? My love has concrete feet, my love's an iron ball, wrapped around your ankles. Over the waterfall..."

I was a heavy heart to carry, and still am. There's not a doubt about that; as so he is as well. We both are. I'll wrap his heart around mine, carry both of ours. For his loving soul could never die, not while I'm here. I'm so heavy, heavy in his arms. My gratefulness of him not taking off for that reason has made me believe that he is the one. The one who makes me feel as if he's the one to make me happy; forever. I want him to stay, and I'll stay with him.
In that same bed. Where we could lie down in each other's arms, and caress each other wondering how we both even got to that point. Feel the warmth of one's body, and be grateful for the other's comfort. And as we're laying there, even though time still goes on, and there's still so much to worry about and accomplish; We'll know that everything we need, and will ever want, is right here, in each other's arms. Nothing more; nothing less. Me letting my fingers dance upon his skin, knowing that his will always be mine, and mine will always be his. Laying there, knowing we're both broken, knowing we both needed saving; we'll gather the fact that nothing can save us but ourself. So be still love, and know that I'll be here. When darkness falls upon your sleep, and robs you of your happiness, I'll be here to regain it. I'll be here to make you awaken, and realize you're okay. When fear haunts you, and shame commences towards you; I'll wrap you in my arms, lay you down, and hush you to remember the true fact; "You'll always be alright, no matter what shadows hurt you, or defeat you." If morning ever comes, if you're willing to let it come, then it shall rise upon your window, with the colors of politeness, and hope. I'm with you, and know I am here.

I'm giving up on myself, but I'll never give up on you. Never. There's no motivation in my mind that makes me want to stop, and there never will be. You're my blessing, and my one hope. I've only been missing my lover. You're all that matters to me, I'll put you in front of myself. No matter what happens, you're before anything else. I'd walk across the earth just to make you sleep safely at night, and make sure you're alright in the end.

I didn't see the beauty in the world anymore. But I did see the beauty in one thing; not in myself, my loved ones, in the art of nature, or anything like that. It was him. I saw the beauty and the wonderfulness of him for once, and it's not the last. So as I give up, I want you to know, as you know who you are. That I'm never giving up on you, as long as I live. I'll be your one, the one you want me to. I'll be what you want, as if you're happiness has awoken. I've struggled, felt small, been defeated, almost seen the clouds, and I've seen loss... it tears you. I know you hurt, and as long as you're here; I'll make it better. Say something, you're my hope. I'm sorry I couldn't reach you, for my will was weak. Whatever you may tell me, whatever it is, if it hurts, or pains you. I'll reach for you, and let you lay with me so it doesn't hurt anymore.

"Your pain is my pain, your love is my love. To tell the difference is to tell the difference between hell and heaven."

My Duration

For further reason, I have no acknowledgment as to what sort of world we're living in. We're surrounded by things that cannot be explained, and people that devote to such cruelty to ones who have done nothing in return. The determined sickness of this world is pulling itself apart, and creating it to be something, in all actuality, it isn't.
I see the world in a different perspective than most people. I choose to see the beauty in it, and the wonders it brings to us, regularly. I take the little things that it gives us, and over-exaggerates the sense of it, and turns it into a beacon. I stare at the sidewalk while walking, seeing each foot disappear as the other re-appears. I blast the sweet sound of my music in my ears, taking in all that the world has to offer, and all that it is when my eyes hit it. I simply see it as a beautiful, and extraordinary creation, in which, does not have a definite definition of itself. It's gorgeously complex, and mysterious. I glance at nature as a wondrous piece of the world that cannot ever be destroyed without a fight, and a part of the world that will never lose it's beauty. It's calms nerves, moves minds, and creates chaos. The shapes that it creates, and the gestures it makes without even being called upon, makes me wonder why the whole world cannot be looked at like this. It's carefulness and development, isn't even recognized.

My mind used to look at the world as hell. It used to call it a sin to live on such a place that makes you feel the way I used to. I'd criticize it, and make fun of the ways it brought us; when I was at my darkest and most depressive moments. I never looked past the pain, and always looked at what needed to be done to it. Of course; there are still some ways that the world would need to show us it's actual beauty and not coat it with the lust of the hell we think it is. Most take granted for what they're actually standing on, the soil they reside on, and what they believe is wrong.

I've seen fear, I've seen hell, I've seen evil, and I've seen self-loathing, and pain...

Ones who have isolated themselves to a corner where they feel safe. Where they cannot be hurt, broken, or betrayed anymore. Seeming as if they don't understand what the world is actually about. They do not comprehend the love that it can bring, and the joy, or the happiness; which is also, understandable. Considering they have not felt in a while, usually monotone, never feeling any sense of happiness or love. It's hard to believe that something actually exists, or can come back when it has come and left you many times, and hasn't been seen in a while. I know. It's a certain feeling that all you've ever felt from your past, until now, is all you'll ever feel. That all you've ever experienced; your happiness, your love, your pain, and your loss, is all that there is in this world. You've believed that there's nothing new you'll ever feel. It seems like a permanent theory, but it's just the fact that you have to believe that it's not true. Otherwise, you'll never make anything of yourself, ever again.

The day is your time to shine, where you fake every positive emotion possible, just so that your loved ones can believe that you're okay. Just so that they don't have to worry; because you know you don't want them to. It's alright, they'll believe you sometime soon. Once they see all the good that you're doing, and all the good you'll ever do; they'll make sure that you don't ever go back to what you once thought. But the secret is; is that that's all you've ever felt. During day, it's when you soak in the heat of the sun that may not be out for long, and assure everyone how beautiful, amazing, wonderful, and loved they all are; because you wouldn't want them to feel the same way you do.
The night is the time of loathing, where you're puzzled at what happened when you saw the sun, because now you see the moon. You contemplate what's going to happen tomorrow, when you have to pretend yourself again to ones you thought you loved. I've spent most of my time in the dark, remembering what's happened and what I've done. What I did to lose the people that I did, and how I lost them. It makes me ache wondering if I could've done something to help them, or done something to prevent their loss. Being abandoned, betrayed, hurt, beaten, and outspoken will make someone go insane, then be called it. Not knowing that they are actually one of the most sane people known to this world. Some people just don't deserve it...

"Life is difficult, hard. Death is easy, peaceful."

A Heart As Thick As Mine

This is it. When I cannot take it anymore. No, taking my whole life is not the answer. Although my life isn't anything special, it's not something to waste. It's something to be proud of and take charge of. I've lost many, either due to death or abandonment. This is it. I am not dwelling on the past anymore, I'm burying it deep in my mind. It's something that will never haunt me ever again. Some don't know what has happened, that's why they do not understand. Which is also, understandable. I do not blame anyone or anything, and that's how it's always had to go. I do not comprehend how someone could develop a full understanding of how this life works. Why it brings up down, and why it chooses to bring us back up from the ashes. Why it gives us such pain, and why such happiness. It's something that'll never be taken into consideration, and proven. It'll go unanswered by all of us, for as long as we exist.

I've told myself, "You're fine." It's come to be true. Everyone is fine. It's the anxiety of knowing that we may not be alright that thrills us into thinking otherwise. Yet; why do we have this sort of thrill? If it only brings negative upon us, then why does it even make it's presence?
I know that much of what I say is just an interrogation upon myself, questioning to myself what's happening to me, and what I'm feeling. It doesn't feel like it gets better, but no matter how much I try and deny it; I know that's false. I'll always be fine, and that's my permission to ask for if I chose otherwise.

I don't forget who I am. Or at least, who I used to be, and who I want to be again. The old me! The one who was truly confident, and beyond beautiful; not for looks, but for pureness. It showed through everything, and it still does today. I'm still the one who fills every sentence I speak with kindness, and sympathy, and ethical language. Not everybody has a heart as thick as mine. They've taken me down to the skin and bone, they've stripped me of what I actually know about myself. I've changed; just all too much. My transformation didn't help me, but only helped enrich the lives of the ones I love. Only to help them, but to never give a damn about myself. Never to regret anything I've done for them, but to only think twice about what I've done to myself. I used to ponder on how fantastic my life could've been if it hadn't been for my past. Then... I realize, I shouldn't... I just can't. It's not going to do anything but bring me to the realization that I've done nothing.
Then, I creep upon the fact that I shall accept who I am, and what I am. Who cares what others think, or what they bring towards me. It's within my permission who hurts me, and who doesn't. So, no more listening to the ones who bring me down, or call me names of uncertainty. I know, I'm fucking crazy. I like it that way, to be different from others. To embrace the darkness rather than to push it away. Yet, also to support the light and welcome it. I remember how I was the girl who stood up for herself, and the one who defended herself for whenever she wanted. When someone swung at her, she did the same back without hesitation. Or when they threatened her, she smirked at them with sarcasm. Now, she's changed from the way she views herself. Now, they take her books, and she begs for them back. They punch her, and kick her, and she believes she deserves it. She takes it as a punishment that was simply meant for her. That is not who I am anymore. Yes, I am human, and I make mistakes; don't we all? I know that I'm not always going to have people who like me, or who accept me for who I am or for what I do. I'm finally accepting that, and the reasoning why I have to just be who I am, and not hide myself from anybody, or defy who I am by the self harm I bring towards myself.
Every sense of harm or willingness punishment I bring to myself will come to an end, and be put to rest. My life is more important than that, and so is anybody else's. Leaving, or dying, would be selfish. It could not be beneficial in any way. It would only bring pain, to the ones I love, or the ones who knew me. The ones who always say me walking down the hallway, with those same shoes, and the same rusty headphone, wondering what my name was. Or the teacher who actually say my excellence and wondered how I was so much different from the other kids, or why I chose to sit in the back and do extra work for the "fun" of it. I'd be too much of a fool to leave home. To forget everything, and to rot in hell, and to place my focus on all my sins and the ones I've lost. It'd be selfish to myself, but most importantly, others that I love.

My heart is here to stay. To take on anything that comes my way. Yes, I'll always come to the point of crying, or to breaking down when necessary. That's just a part of life though, going through the struggle. Whether it's earlier on, or later in your years. Some have experienced both.

I'm happy. Wow... Haven't said that in a long while. But anyways, it's true. Even though right now might not be the best time to be at right now, and most of what I have and know is crashing upon me. I am happy, because I know that right now all I have to do is force a smile, then I can really do it without hesitation later when I know what it means to truly smile. I know that I'll be alright one day, it's only a matter of waiting when that time comes. Everyone is waiting, it's just the fact that only some are patient, while others struggle against what they cannot stand.

I'll live, and survive. I'll know how to handle my situations, and not face them by talking about them to ones of struggle for sympathy and self pity. I will develop habits that will help me through what I'm dealing with. I'll know what's good for me, and what's not. I'll come to realize that what I'm doing is not only good for myself, but for others. I'll remind myself of the girl I am, and who I need to be. I'll choose to love myself again, and to show my confidence. To not take any of it for granted, and to devour my beauty and my flaws. I'll wake up in the morning, look in the mirror, and just stare. Stare at my own body, and remind myself of who I am. Show and tell myself that I'll be alright, and I'll just last. I'll keep aiming for the stars, and not everybody has a heart as heavy as mine.

"Do you know who you are? 'Cause I know who you are. You're a pinch of perfect, a dash of worth it. Don't take your life, just stay tongue tied. I know it's hard."

Scarlet Tears

A little girl. Once was considered one of great passion and great carefulness. She had once been so happy, so calm and collected. Now, she was gone. That little girl left the body of this woman that was now strengthened, and hated. She was once that angel that people couldn't get enough of. The one who loved everything and saw no darkness in the world. She ran around in grass as tall as her, and explored the ground as if it had a beautiful structure, and was extraordinary. She stared at gravel as if it excited her, and gazed at trees as if they were smiling back at her. She found hope in nature, and a senseless element within it.

Now, this woman was demolished of her happiness. Nobody ruined it for her; only herself. She took a constant blame on everyone who entered into her life, and that they were the ones that killed her inside. Only, she was the one doing the damage. She peeled away the good of her life, and didn't know what to do or to expect from others. Her depression got worse; as did the environment around her. She had hoped that everyone around her would know exactly how she felt. Although, everyone just smiled, and lived on; while she didn't. She isolated herself to a point where she felt she had nobody. When in all actuality; she did. She had more than most. She was selfish, and hopeless. That's what she thought. When she saw everybody who contained happiness and kept it, she died a little inside. She noticed how she could never keep her head up high when needed. It was always shrugged. Her posture progressively downgraded every single day. Her neck strained gradually, as her legs ached from walking away from her loved ones too many times. Then, she galvanized the fact that it all became too much for her. 

She had finally figured it out. An end to all of her confusion. She didn't want love, or didn't need empathy. None of the sort, and she didn't want to find a man nor woman. She craved for the knowledge to know that she wasn't alone in the world. She wanted someone to reassure her that there was always help, and that there always will be. Not from a therapist, or counselor, nor social worker. But from someone who's been through the same journey, and made it back. From someone who understood her struggle, and her hatred towards herself. She needed inspiration. All she was provided with was friends that told her that she didn't deserve a place on this earth, and that her mind was useless. Once, she encountered a particular person who informed her that the breathes she took were of waste, and that her body belonged in the ground. She pondered on that thought, about what would happen if she did go. It would have been considered a selfish act for the ones who still resided on the other side. But, it was her decision. Whether she were to stay or go was her choice in time, and it wasn't a crime. Yet, it was a sin to most. Well... Then consider myself a sinner. 

She cried herself to sleep every night wondering what she could do to make the world better for herself. Once the tear hit her cheek; it was clear to her that there was nothing she could do. Only to put her focus on the essence of herself, and make it clear to her that living was the only option she had. Whether she had to force herself or not; she would accomplish it. She would achieve the impossible. She would rot all of the negative out of herself. If she didn't, she would have put the ones she loves, and their lives in danger. Her leaving would only create the domino affect. Once she was gone, more would go. She was told so. Her mother, informed her of her taking her own life if her baby left this world. The young man she loves, replied back to her with the simple form that if she went, he went. And her best friend, had always made her realize that she was everything to her. Plus, she was the same as her. None of this made anything better. It only made thinking harder to achieve. And more painful to consider. 

She had always dreamt of a perfect life. Where she would finally reside next to him, while we both cared and loved each other. Her parents and herself, would remain as they always had. They rejoiced in a beautiful relationship, and filled each other with honesty. Her best friend and her would love one another even more than the present; if that was even achievable. Then, most importantly, she would love herself. She would consider all of the wonderful things about her. Provide herself with some credit and continue to gather facts about herself that she didn't discover until now. 

But until that moment comes, she laid there. In the middle of the vacant room. No light to be found, not a utter of sound to be detected, and herself in the middle. Candles gathered around her, like she had always found peace in. Then, she'd glance at photos of the promising past, and remember how lovely her life was, and could've been. Photographs spread across a great distance, one next to another, in a non-linear pattern. Each one complimenting the next. Adjacent to her leg, rested a knife. One she had slept with in the night, and one that made her comfort increase by a gradual amount. The blade perfectly sharpened, and shining across the open window that was parallel to the ground wood. She stared out the window, to recognize the light that hit her face, and made it burn with a passion. She once again, saw the beauty that she had once saw as that little girl. She looked down once last time, staring at the pictures once more. Her life flashed before herself and she knew what she had to do. Her happiness was about to enter her body, as she left it. She spread the photographs further and further apart to get a good last look at all of them together. Her hand edged for the weapon that laid right beside her, and her body ached for it. Once it rested in her palm, she gripped it tighter. It released some energy out of her before the final draw. She lifted her head up higher, her smiling, and looking straight at the sun's ray. Suddenly, she held the edge of the blade directly upon her skin. She closed her eyes, wondered one last time why she was still here. And that was it... They finally noticed her Scarlet Tears. 

Here I Am; At Last

I am leaving, finally. This place has brought the worst out of me, and has showed me the worst of others. I walk these hallways with a fake smile, and a peppy walk for the sake of my own sanity. I forget that they already know; that I am already insane. That I've already lost my "cool". I never figured that what I would bring here, just to express who I am, would damage me, and show the evil of others I loved. I've cried here, I've ran here, I've hugged here, I've loved here, I've learned here, and I've taught here. I was educated on the well being of myself, and how it effects others around me.
I remember the start. I walked in the first day; only to be taunted on what I was doing here. How I was hit for standing in the school that soon, I would be out of. Then, I went through it all. I helped, laughed, cried and jolted down hallways even wondering what I was still doing here.
This place; I still call it home. It's where everyone I love is, and even my enemies. Though, I'd rather stay with them than my own self. It's where I showed the very best and the very worst of me.

When it's time to go, and I have to take that last walk down that same hallway I was beaten in, and verbally abused in. I'll remember one thing; I'm still alive. I survived. People like you and I; we're survivors, I was once told. Than I shall continue on that way, alive, and surviving. I'll walk out to my own transportation, turn around and take one last look at the school for a long while. I'll smile slightly, and remember who I am, and what I've done, and not regret any of it. I'll slaughter all of those who've deserved it for most of the year, and those who have hurt me. I'll stick my middle finger up to the ones who thought I could never make it, the ones who thrived for my death, and the persons who thought that I wouldn't succeed.
"I'll be my own villain from now on". I'll tell anyone who ever told me that I was a "freak" or a "sin", that I may be; but I'm fucking proud of it. I'll be sure to let them know that who I am is who I will always be, and who I will ever be. I do not plan on changing, not even for the ones who have known me for most of my existence. They know that what I am, and who I choose to be, is what I want to be, and who I need to be. Yes, I'll admit; I am different and unique, one of the originals. And that's what is so satisfying about it. Knowing that nobody could ever be like me, and nobody can ever take my place, or anybody else's place for that matter. I love it, and I thrive off of it. Yes, I may cry inside for my taunting, but that doesn't at all persuade me to change the way I am for anybody. My life has more worth than that, and I know that I was born to lead, not to follow.

So, my question is; Does it ever really get better? From what I've seen and experienced, it's up to you. It's what you do with yourself that determines that fate. Yes, fate. I said it. You can decide your own fate; you may not know what you're deciding upon, but you can choose the first or the second option. For me, things will never be better. I'll always have thoughts in my mind, and they will always linger. That'll never change, and they will never leave me. But, for others of a more optimistic side of them, it will most definitely get better. The world will continue on, and they will move with it. It's the way things work. Everyone is different, and are stable in different moments. Me, I'm naturally a very complex person, and I am very hard to figure out in a second. But, I come off as easy to figure out. That's only for the simple fact that I do not show all of who I am to everybody at once. Last time I did that, someone left me, for good. I'd hate for history to repeat itself. Especially since history isn't the most inspiring subject.

So, today is the day. The one time that I'll show everyone that I truly will be fine. If they do not believe my theory, then who cares. It's my choice of what I do to myself, and what I want to do. Everything I wear, everything I say, and everything I do has some sense of meaning. Whether it's that I am wearing a ring representing a lost loved one. Or me wearing a band t-shirt to symbolize that they're the ones who showed me I'll be okay. My actions are in much more depth and vibrant that most people's. That's what I admire about them, they have a grotesque meaning towards them. Grotesque and beautiful meaning towards them.

... I'll turn around. I'll smile slightly and remember who I am and what I've done, and not regret any of it. I repeat; I am the angel surrounded by light. As it is stated in common sense; you never create conflict with the light.

Here we are; I am free. At last.

My Main Point

I asked myself many times what I did to deserve this. I have been tortured, beaten, and ridiculed for most of my life. By many that I thought loved me and that I loved me. And some that purely hated who I was and wanted me to know that what I did was a sin. I don't understand why anybody on this earth, despite anything they've done, would have to face the punishment of what I've been through. I am different; so what? What does it matter to the persons who do not even have to live with me or grace my presence. For some, I thought they could be trusted. I trusted them with some of the secrets that I wouldn't even dare to tell most.

When I was little, I never felt any sense of God. He was never presented in my life, he never appeared when I needed him most. I never went to Church; Yet, my parents still strongly believe in his existence. I respect that, as I would for anybody, because I am strongly against religious discrimination, or any sort of discrimination. I never went to Church, I never prayed, or even asked for forgiveness when needed [Though sometimes I wish I should have at that moment]. I am unsure of which branch of Atheism I am. I have odd beliefs. I say this because I do not believe in God or Jesus Christ simply because I do not think that there should be any main spirit or Lord in the universe. My personal belief is that there is no central God or Lord. I do however; believe in spirits and ghosts. I sense this because I've seen them. Some call me a medium; also, because I've been able to do this since I was a little girl. I always thought that it was just my imagination. About three years ago, the worst day of my life occurred, and plummeted my depression even greater. My greatest inspirer notified me that she wasn't doing so good, and that she was returning to the hospital due to alcoholic issues that needed to be dealt with. It was only a few weeks; only a few weeks until I realized that she wouldn't make it. Her skin, increasing in the color yellow, and her skin, filled with bruises because of the thinning blood. Seeing her took a tole on me. So, I stopped seeing her for a while; biggest mistake of my life. I stopped because it broke me to see her in the condition that she was in at the time. I never saw that that may have been the last of what I saw of her, ever. I went back, only to see that she had gotten worse. I saw her; laying in what may have possibly been her death bed. 

I forbid talking about the day she died, for it was the worst experience I have ever went through. And I wouldn't wish it upon my worst enemy. It told a tale that should never be put into a book, something that killed the mind of what was once a little girl, and what was now a young woman who had seen too much of the world already. My motivation was gone, once I heard the hospital beeper go off signaling that she was gone. As I held her, I wished upon my spirits to take her and love her. I placed a kiss upon her forehead and whispered in her ear, "When the angels ask me what I loved most about life, I'll say you".  Then, as life went on, and things got worse, I saw more and more spirits coming for me. They would tell me things and whisper demeaning phrases in my ear when I was focusing on them. I consider this a gift; generously because I do believe that I can help some of them, or the ones that I would like to. When I talk to them; they call me an angel. They tell me that I am an angel surrounded by light, and that no dark can enter into my soul. When I was about twelve, I was quite mature for someone of my age. I started practicing Black Magic. And that was my escape, my gateway. When I was feeling as though depression had gotten to me again, I would light my candles. It was something that made me feel invincible. Then... I continued it. 

    Ever since then, my practice has been apart of it. Most persons do not understand the stand point of which it is in. I believe that everyone is naive, and that nobody truly understands something that they have not been through, or they do not believe in. To me, it's human nature. So, as I placed the knowledge of telling someone I loved what I had been doing; she was skeptical. She didn't understand why I was doing it when all of the benefits came from scratches on my legs and a burning sensation in my head, and maybe even cuts here and there. I always told people, "It isn't that bad", "I'll stop one day, when this wave of sadness has passed", or "This is my only escape from the conscious life". I was dragged, through the hallways. While others threw garbage and other sharp items at me, they told me I was weak and a freak. Someone who worshiped Satin and all of his decedents. I was beaten; only for the simple fact that I had drawn the spirits and subjects that came to me. They tied me up, and watched as they burned all of what I created. Or, even when someone took the time out of their life to actually carve wood, and make a wand-shaped figure. They came into school one day, asked me if this was what I was doing, and when I gave them the best policy; honesty, they beat me with that same 'wand'. They described to me that I would never amount to anything of the sort, and that I needed to stop, or they'd take the same 'wand', and drive it through my skin. I was held down, by boys bigger than me. They called me names, "Whore", "Slut", though I've never even been intimate with a guy. They didn't really know who I was or what I've been through. They didn't understand that what they were about to do to me, would ruin them for the rest of their lives, and for the rest of mine. They all took my legs and arms, and held me down to a degree where I couldn't move. Then, I saw it. The blade they pulled out. They laid it against multiple locations of my body, wondering where they were first going to place it. They rested it upon my legs, and sliced. One by one, they killed my skin. They tore through my skin, and ripped me apart on my upper thighs. They weren't that deep, but that didn't matter at all.  My life was threatened, it was deceived, and taken advantage of. So, I took advantage of what I could do to get rid of it as quickly as possible. 

After these horrific tragedies, I had never loved myself. Always thinking that I truly was a freak, and that I didn't deserve a spot on this planet. I never told anybody this; I never took into consideration that I could've just gone then. I never had any knowledge of how to actually demolish myself at that point in time, but I wish I had. My beliefs, my personal feelings, and my morals, are nothing but what I've been put through. It's nothing that I'm proud of; simply because I blamed myself for it for years. My faults were considered everything I did or acted upon. "Sorry" was a word that I said on a daily basis, when I said anything. It was a go-to saying, something that was necessary to be spoken when words left my mouth. I've never hated something, and never wished to; but this... I hated.

I always thought that I was the main suspect to what I've been through, because I let myself get into that position. But in some cases, I was the victim. Which I also hated, because I never wanted someone to have pity on me, but now I thrived for it. It wasn't something that was worth taking pride in, but something that I wanted to change one day, if I had the chance to.

"I hate you for ever pulling me back from the edge, I hate you for making all the sacrifices you did for me, I hate you for every time you ever bled for me, I hate you for saving me from myself, I hate you for never taking control of me. I love you for everything you took from me, I love you when you dominate and you violate me, I love you for every time you gave up on me, I love you for never delivering me from pain, I love you for never once giving me my way, I love you for always driving me insane. I hate you; I love you."

The Beauty of Death

Why? I know I keep doing this to myself as well, but why? Why the hell would I put myself in a position like this? My life has turned it's course, a course in which I do not want to be on. I'd rather just go. I'd rather just die wherever I may. I imagine how the spirits take me, and how they embrace my stupidity for what it is. They allow me to be free. Freedom! Yes, that's what I want. To be alone, forever. To never be seen again. I want to leave this world, or maybe even the country. I want to start fresh in my own mind. Contact is not what I'm asking for, To leave means to forget, that's what I want. Nothing more, nothing less. Yet, what does this world have to offer me? What would happen if I actually did leave? Would they miss me? No. Just simply, no. They hate me for who I am, what I've filled them with. It's disgusting. I am at least. What I've turned into. Everybody looks at me and sees a beautiful woman who could go on to do great things, yet, I've never seen it that way. I see a girl who contains all of her lies in her smile, who lies beyond belief to people she loves so that she can have a great amount of sympathy. Even though she's stopped it, she cannot fathom the fact that she even had the guts to do it. Her reasoning consumes all of her thoughts and her mind. She cannot think without crying out to the world, why? She is blind. Blinded by what she has painted herself as. She cannot she was she truly is anymore, and she never will. Once people understand that about her, she'll be fine. Just fine. Never better, in fact. She doesn't want the world to see how she is gradually dying inside. She's drowning in her thoughts, yet nobody sees. She is perfectly fine with that, she doesn't want anybody to know. Yet, she cannot hide it very well like she used to. Because she met the man she thought she'd love forever, and hold. And although that happened, he betrayed her. She doesn't blame him, he should've left sooner. She was a tyrant in the relationship. She should've just killed herself to make him free of her. She didn't want anything to do with the world. She urges to kill, not anybody though. The blade she sees everyday haunts her of her mind. It makes her wonder what she could do with it, it makes her ache. Why she couldn't just die instead, she doesn't know. Her death would've been the new beginning she'd always wanted. Everybody hurt her in her life, Yet, the biggest betrayal was the ones she put upon herself.

The way she thought, was indescribable. Nobody actually understood what she was thinking of on a daily routine. Mostly because it was against her oath made to friends and family. She couldn't let them see how bad she had gotten. If she did, her world would end for her. She would end it herself. No matter the consequences, and having the knowledge of knowing that she could never come back, or she would go straight to the depths of hell. Her notions that had been made in the real world had made her ponder on how she could've done such things. Most of us have done worse than her, but she has her own set of limits, ones that were exceeded for a long duration of time.

I miss it though. The pain, not of the ones people brought about to me. But the ones in which I brought myself. My self harm. I miss it all too much. The cutting, the feeling, the misery it came with. I remember it all too well, as if it will never arise in my life again. I'd come home, find the one thing that made me happy in the world, my razor. When I found it, I felt a sense of relief in my body. I cannot acquire the fact that I'd never feel it again. I resent myself towards it everyday, thinking about what my family and friends would think of me if I actually did do it. When I did do it, I was happy. I have never felt more relieved in my entire life. I could see it. My flesh, turn red within an instant of the blade hitting my skin. The adrenaline I felt from it. It was spectacular, it made me feel... Alive. For once. I could see the blood rushing down, rushing down my leg. It was cold, and it felt nice. It made me shiver at one point, but that's what made it exciting. Everything about it, the pain, the blood, the rush of energy, and the relief. It made me ponder on how I don't do it more often. Made me think of why I couldn't just do this for the rest of my life. It killed me to know that I'd never felt something quite like this. But... The best things come with the worst consequences. So.. Me cutting, Yes, I would've never thought.

When I think of death, I think of happiness. It engulfs my soul, it brings me to enlightenment. I don't know why, but I've never felt more of a sense of relief when I think of dying. I cannot think about being any more happier than when I dreamt of the wishes I bring upon myself that imagine me in the ground. I think of the worshipers I have been around, their love for God. For I have never felt him in my life, I have never had a sense of him, Ever. In all actuality, I have never felt any hope, or God, or Lord of any sort. Besides, if there is a god, then what has he done for me? Brought me into this world? I do not think of being in this world to be a privilege. I think of it to be a sin in itself. Bringing me into this world only made me want to leave it even more. I hate it, it brings me to tears every night, knowing that I cannot sleep. I stare, and glance at the wall. How white it is, how plain, and simple. It only sits there for decades and maybe even centuries, only for it to be knocked down in the future. I think about what it has gone through, it doesn't have to communicate, it only has to wait for it's death to come. In a way, I wish I was that same wall. I wouldn't have to communicate or contact any person, wouldn't have to be discriminated against or taunted by the people here. I would only have to acknowledge the presence of the world, and live in it, alone.

If I had lived in this world alone, I would've found more peace and essence in it, but the people that surround it, bring it down to a level that make people everyday want to leave.

Life was never what was wanted by the people like me. Like me, I am attracted to the darkness, the paranormal, and the unnatural, the things that do not appear as they seem. I appear to the subjects that bring me pain, and endurance. The ones that take the most strength. Concepts that bring me to accept that I am strong, and that I can do whatever I persist my mindset to.

I feed everyone lies, my heart's invested in it. I've seen so many of them come and go, so many of them left. I wish I had left, long ago. I am who I am, and this is who we are. I don't care if you leave or not, I'm used to it, I've gotten over it. I am the broken-hearted. I cannot stand the ones who call themselves saints, yet, have never once given themselves the essence of love and peace. Yes, I have sinned. Many times, I have done things that many cannot achieve, simply because they are not as fearless as I am. I am not afraid to get hurt, or even to die. My actions are consisted of the adrenaline that are the equivalency of death. They have the same feeling, the same rush, and the same passion. I'd never felt a better time in my life. When your heart pounds so hard, that you feel as if you're ending is near. It's the best feeling in the world.

Well, Goodbye Cruel and hateful world, hope to never see you again...