Unrequited Advice

I am apologetic. I am sorry for the things that I never said. I am still trying to figure out what I want with myself, but thus far I know that I am okay. I'm not drowning anymore; it turns out I learned how to swim. My heart still grows heavy and my eyes still do leak, but I am no longer crumbling within myself. Perhaps it is the summer air that's intoxicating me, but I feel content. And I know that I am still a mess and that my hair is always knotty and that my mind is still a labyrinth: but I am whole and I don't want to ever be broken again. So, dear reader, do not wish for sadness. Do not wish for self-loathing or low self-esteem. If you are unhappy, do not sit there immobile, watching your life blow by. Humans are made to feel things and if you have numbness running through your veins then you are merely existing. Let someone close to you, let someone love you. Let the feeling of happiness rush through you. You are my hope and I know that you are more powerful than the forces of the universe. You are made of the blood of your ancestors, and when you were simply a gleaming fleck of faith, the world believed in you. The world still does believe in you, with every step that you take. You have the ability to flood the skies and open the oceans. You are sincerity and integrity. You are yourself, and that is the best that you can be.

Psychosis

I'm not sure what the definition of crazy is but I'm sure it's along the lines of me. I don't know why and I don't know how. All I know is that crazy is the tornado that rages inside of my head, filled with morbid voices laughing at my pain. Crazy is the images stamped into the back of my eyelids that remind me that I'm no good enough. I'm sorry to say but you have disappointed me. Perhaps it's my fault; I never should have believed that you were any different. Because you're not, and I put you on some sort of fucked up pedestal hoping that you'd be just a little bit of the person you claimed to be. But I have been let down again and this time I promise not to get my hopes back up. Insanity is flowing through my veins and churning in my heart. I don't know when this madness started blooming inside me but today my words wouldn't form properly and felt like bittersweet molasses dripping from my lips. My words were heavy on my tongue and came out distorted and meaningless. So I just wanted to apologize on my part, because I'm sure that I have let you down too, in some way or form. I know that I mess things up and I never do anything right. I know that my loneliness has been festering and has probably caused most of my problems. But what can I say? I'm addicted to sadness and without it in my life I feel a hole carved into my chest, even bigger than the one that you left behind. And feeling nothing it all is not comparable to the gentle, soft melancholy that washes over me every now and again. Maybe insanity is sadness, and sadness is insanity; but all I know is that both of these things make me feel alive. For that I am thankful. So thank you Sadness and Craziness for keeping me company on these long winter days when I have nothing left to live for.

Apologetic

I didn't ask for a lobotomy, just a place to rest my thoughts. It's not fair because I don't want everyone taking a peek into my mind. I don't want everyone dissecting me and my brain and my words. I feel like I have to prove something to you and I don't know how to please you without breaking myself. I feel exposed and vulnerable. Sure every body's greedy for a secret, but that doesn't mean it has to be mine. I feel as though someone is applying a thousand pounds of pressure to my head. I think that crying might help but the only thing I can do is wring my hands and pace and pray that it'll all turn out okay. Sure, there are a million things I could say right now, but I don't think anything will slow the pace of the words rushing through my head. All I wanted was to be free and now I think I'm trapped all over again. I just want to leave so badly, and start over in a place where skyscrapers mar the horizon. I want to fall in love and write my heart out. But most of all I want to do all these things without being judged for it. And I feel like you've got your hawk eyes locked on me and for every genuine sentence that pours out of my fingertips you'll be there, deciding the final verdict. I'm not quite sure what I'm saying anymore and I feel like whatever talent I had is quickly fading. Because my thoughts are nothing but somber and lonely. They can no longer be turned into romantic, beautiful lies that sound nice when read aloud. Now all I can sum up is that I just want to disappear and never be found. I don't want to die, but I don't want to be alive.

Heavy-Eyed

For some reason, my love for self-hatred has bloomed into a craving of rebellion. I think I'm going insane because the space between my ears has suddenly become too small. I feel as though I'm drifting away from it all, like a dingy cast out to sea. I can't even control myself anymore. Anxiety attacks seem to like to rock me to sleep. The dreams of big city lights reflect in my eyes and trick everyone else into thinking that I don't care. But I do. I care so desperately, I'm just waiting for someone to care back. I'm waiting for someone to notice the pain in my eyes. I'm waiting for someone to give a damn. Because here I am, right in front of you all, and you're so blind that you can't even realize that it's all crumbling. It's all withering away. I hope I'm another cliche just to get my name in the books. I'm going to live until I die. I've been yearning for sweet blades to kiss my wrists, but I'm too much a coward to figure out if I'll fall in love. Too much of a disappointment. Lately it's been rough. Lately all I want is for someone to tell me that it'll be alright. But maybe it's a bad thing when people notice. Because once someone did. They asked me if I was okay, and I said yes and then they went on to say, "You're just tired right? Yeah, I'm good at reading people." But I'm not just tired. I'm tired of life, tired of everything being eternally the same. So maybe people should learn to read the fine print. Try reading in between the lines for once. They ask if you're tired, but the never ask of what.

Snap

"You're so thin, you look like you'd just snap," they say to me. But what these devastatingly arrogant souls don't understand is that I already have. I snapped at the moment I had to swallow my dignity, and choke back the tears. Their words snapped my legs and society snapped my neck. Now I just dangle here like a broken doll. I snapped the day I looked into his eyes and knew that he would never love me. I snapped when my heart was broken by the biggest player of them all; life. I snapped when I was eight years old and had been abruptly uprooted from the only thing I'd ever known. I fucking snapped the moment I realized that I had stopped loving myself, and just stopped loving all together. Maybe that's why I grew up so fast. Because everything I'd ever believed in just crumbled in the wind and I had been left to pick up the pieces. I have had my happy weeks, but this isn't one of them. I sure hope that the next time I'm told to stand with my legs together, that I hear applause. Because that's all I seem to be. A circus show freak. I hope that you're surely amused with the space between my thighs and I hope you find it funny that my hipbones jut out. I didn't choose this body and trust me if I had I would have made a much better choice. I wouldn't have chose to live my life out in a body that looks like it could snap. I didn't choose the comments about my weight or the words about my legs. I wonder if they know that every time I look in a mirror, I hear their voices calling my "anorexic", "too thin", and "fragile." Their voices haunt me. I hope one day, when I leave, my words will haunt them too.

I'm Just Alone Again

I think the worst part is that I let myself feel vulnerable. I let my heart feel exposed and I let its contents splay across the floor. I let my blood pump faster and my pulse quicken. I let myself go. I let someone in for just a little bit and I regret every second. Because look where I am now. I've got nothing left. I'm laying here exposed in the corner shivering and wishing I'd just kept my eyes on the floor. Wishing I'd kept the door to my heart locked. Every single day I look at him and just wish that I'd even have a chance. But then I remember; nobody wants me. That's why I'm standing on my own. I'm not the kind of pretty that people fall in love with. No matter how many times you call me beautiful, at the end of the day I'll still be alone and crying into my pillow case. The pain will come back swinging with full force and I'll be reminded why he didn't want me. Why he never will.

Twisted Thoughts

These days as the leaves begin falling, I'm starting to become stuck. Stuck between who I should be, who I am, and who I want to be. I can't look in a mirror anymore, without a chorus of malicious voices reminding me of my every flaw. My yearning to leave this place has grown to a level where it's almost unbearable. Because I was right. Now I'm stuck in a school with the same type of people I grew up with. I have no hope. In the hallway a cursory glance can turn into a longing stare. But I stared too long, and you saw the way my eyes lit up. You saw every vulnerability, every ounce of the person I've been trying so hard to conceal. I can't wait for the day that the world stops revolving around Homecoming and football games. Because lonely people need to breathe too and lately I've been suffocating. There's no air between the state of numbness and the state of freedom, yet I'm trapped exactly in the middle. But they don't get it, neither do you. How can we be on the "same boat", if we're not even sailing in the same sea? Your very being emanates glory. And you still expect me to believe that we're even in the same league? I can't even teach myself how to love, and you're out there crying the tears of young romance. Just tell me, exactly, what makes us so similar? Because everyday I look at you and wish I could be the way you are. With your purposefully delivered sentences and eloquent tongue. You're beautiful in every sense of the word. I am nothing but an outspoken girl with eternally chipped nail polish and grasping for the definition of l o v e. Hope is a four letter word and I'm tired of cussing. I'm just tired, tired, tired of everyday wishing for reprieve. Wishing for something greater than myself. But I'm just a stargazer, while everyone else is walking on the moon.