Envy

Envy. The little green monster. Green, the color of lettuce. The only thing I eat anymore. I was always jealous of his body. Always. How can you be friends with the boy who seemed to be so skinny without any effort? He was rail thin. He was coveted. He was wanted.

And all I ever wanted were those things. I just wanted everything he had.

Unfortunately the only thing I picked up from him was an eating disorder. I know someone can't give you bulimia, but they can sure hurry the process along. He whispered to me how he skipped meals, and I witnessed him leaving the bathroom after meals, smelling of acid. Cigarettes kill urges. I learned all the tips from him. Drink water. Don't buy food. Work out. Avoid meals. I learned from the best. He who does not want to recover.

Let me tell you a secret though, I don't either.

I will never be thin enough. I tell myself at the start that when I lose ten pounds I will be happy. So in two weeks I lose ten pounds. No big deal. I just followed the guru. But guess what? I felt hollow. Only ten pounds, that's nothing. It wasn't even ten percent of my body weight. It was nothing. I looked the same. I felt the same. The only difference is I went down a pants size. I couldn't see it though. I still felt like the same girl as when I started.

But now I was a failure. Now I wasn't good enough. Now food seemed sinful. I always thought about becoming an extremist religion where the people beat themselves so I could get away with cutting and scratching without being wrong. It seemed like a perfect fit. But now with the starving, how would I explain that? Lent. For Lent (which I don't really celebrate) I will give up food. Beat that you pious bastard. So what you gave up caffeine or liquor? I'm giving up food. For forty days.

But Lent isn't year around, and even my thin friend eats occasionally. But somewhere, in the sick reaches of my mind, I want win. I want to be the thinnest. Little miss perfect with the sharp collar bones.

I don't want recovery. I want thin.

Alone

Once you realize
that no one cares
if you live or die
you start to cut ties
relationships are useless
they serve to remind you that you are alone
people you held dear
leave
rather quickly
they can't stand to be
near you

You are a monster
a starving bleeding monster
who makes good people leave
and bad people stay
deserving every cross word
every moment ignored

Calories

Jumping jacks
jump rope
jogging
these are my least favorite things

Nothing tastes as good as thin feels
except sugar free ice cream
and the sickly way
it splashes
during frantic purges
fingers scarred
throat sore

Rinse the acid from your teeth
swallow water
when hungry
if starving
drink more

Food is the enemy
or maybe it is you
sweat pants to hide the loss
no one needs to know
your not thin enough
to have a real problem

You are just playing games
and counting calories
in vain

Hunger Strike

Walk a mile
eat a meal
purge a meal
drop a size

Repeat.

The risky business
of bile and aerobics
losing weight
burn a pound

Fast
hunger strike
time to die

Things I've Learned From Books

"The worth of a book is to be measured by what you can carry away from it." - James Bryce


Dearest Callie
one of two
elective mutes
one of two
cutters
one of three
hospital residences
she mumbles
handing me a caramel
asking if I am one of the
"food disorder girls"
and shouts out Jeopardy trivia
we look at cracks in the ceiling
in therapy
and stay mostly silent
she runs away sometimes
but always comes back

Craig
he left the hospital
he's better
healed
an artist
drawing maps
where I ought to go
and where I am
he tells me not to jump
he tells me the hospital is okay
they will let you out
when your better
they can make you better
you can make you better
if I'm not careful
he'll have sex with someone on my bed
sneaky boy

Melinda no es linda
often silent
looks at trees
she tells me how terrible high school is
how no one likes her
she ruined a party
sirens
flashing lights
and a boy
older boy
touching and hurting
she inhales pizza on the couch
flipping the cushions
avoiding authority
she bombed freshman year
we are partners in crime

Winn-dixe
forever loyal
and true
hides with me in thunderstorms

The bad influence
Lia
the lonely
she didn't want to be alone
so she stays sick with me
she tells me my caloric intake
and is jealous of vomiting
whispering hush hush words
of how great it is to be hungry
cut the blade deeper
hurt yourself more
the doctors will stitch you up
your insides will not fall out
she leaves me in a motel room
never answering her phone
ring
ring
ring
nothing
only silence
tell me how to lie to nurses
eat their food
become a ballon
then stop outside
be a thin girl with a hospital record

Emergency

Emergency
and you're alone
tear stained face
frantic writing
planning your funeral
waiting for the day
they
the all knowing they
open your diary and say

What a sick
fuck

How dare she
how dare she write
and write
and write
about her death
and how she wants daisies
instead of roses
for she'll prick her hand on the thorns
even in death
how she wants to be buried in long sleeves
and pants
even though she always loved dresses
but her arms are too
too
too much
her legs too much
how she wants the picture
where she is a little girl
hiding behind a panda bear
with little teeth
and a watch
too big
her mothers
and she looks like she's about to cry
but she doesn't
she will not cry
she will not feel
this will not break her
she is already broken
this does not matter
and how she wants the song
with the waltzing orchestra
the instrument she always wanted to play
but can't
not allowed
don't even think it
she wants the preacher to lie
say she was a good girl
don't say she drained herself of blood
hush hush about the pills
lie preacher
say she was a good girl
she died of a preexisting medical condition
she did not
kill
herself
suicide is not an option
let her drown in her tears

Scar-less

Thoughts are still haunting
even staring the real world
in the teeth
blood dripping fangs
ready to rip me apart

My eyes
weary
seeing the same problem
day in and day out
envisioning my self-destruction
slowly handing myself over
a sinister disease clutching me

Lips moving
a phantom speaking
whispers of words
sneaking in the downfall
praying for a recovery

Make me scar-less
pristine skin
the haunting memories murdered
hand me over to the short sleeves
skirts
and swimsuits
of summer

Make me thin
giving up a disorder
weighing myself daily
and jogging
desperately burning calories
skipping meals
even under supervision
sealing my mouth
refusing nourishment
if a fast death is not allowed

I shall have a slow suicide
unless I find the cure.

Toast

Shit you see in psych
is priceless

The woman whom
through delusions
convinced herself
that an unnamed man
breaks in at night
and rapes her
all while she is sleeping
soreness in the morning
and pills she refuses to take

To the man
who talks to God
frequently
blurring the lines
between crazy
and religious

The tongueless
screeching babble
hitting and throwing
calling me Satan
smashing puzzles

Bridget who disrupts
with toast
during relaxation time
breathing in and out
rattling drawers
dinging machines
her own little world
merging with ours
for a few seconds
then on it's way

I wonder if I'm someones
horror story from the ward.

Psych 3 (The Unlocked Behavior Health Unit)

Ode to the third
hospitalization

To EDNOS
to explain the puking
and the fasting
Eating
Disorder
Not
Otherwise
Specified

To specifying
for me
tell me of self-destruction
how suicidal thoughts are an out
for self-loathing
because I hate myself
more than you do
I am meaner to me
than you could ever be

To scratching
and infecting
and intervening in healing
and to weeping wounds
dressed by cheerful nurses

To Seroquel
for sleep
and mood

To Timberline Knolls
a far away rehab
and an out
which I may have to take

To my mental health
however fucked it is

Contemplation

I wish I could disturb your peace
for a few seconds
break the emotional veil
let you know I need you
now
not later
that this is a life and death
emergency

See I don't want to die
but I do
it's a choice I'm constantly making
and I can't pick
to stay
or go

Hollow

Having nothing left to live in
except hollows of memories
I retreat into myself
remembering
accidentally lovely things

A dear friend whom
after I crashed a sleepover
woke up in the morning
to play doctor with makeshift supplies
lovingly being driven to Lake Jackson
getting me to talk
speak in bits
after sitting
stone cold in the passenger seat
drinking hot chocolate on the way home
doing more good than he could ever understand

A voice teacher
having too much faith in me
nudging me on regardless of the let down
encouraging me to practice
not to get better
but because you were invested
to the point of tears
at the end of
every successful run
promising
in naivety
to study Vaughn William's
Silent Noon
more than Whitacre's
A Boy and A Girl
slowing down to impending
as you choked out the last prayer
almost overshadowed
pianissimo
"The song of love"

The time my father came to school
screaming through the choir door
forcing the director to stop sight reading
to listen to one of his own be ridiculed
the next day begging me to confess to child abuse
my lips remaining sealed
running into the night
scared for my life
sleeping on my best friend's porch
until her sister nudged me awake
and moved me to the couch
becoming a ritual
a safe haven

A cake made for an anniversary
not a notable one
maybe a month
at most two
covered in pink icing
fresh strawberries adorning the top
only to be plucked off before lunch
by the lady in waiting
not worrying about calorie concerns
a rare moment of being a functional couple
in midst our teen angst

These all hollow with age
passion for life
turns into distrust for humanity
wide-eyed wanderings
into squinted suicide attempts
after
memories
and scars
I am left without a thing.

Not even the best boys
can stay forever
doctor kits run out
as does patience
not without good reason
none being the givers fault

Voice teachers can't get you into
music school
rejection is painful
no amount of emotional involvement
can fix a botched audition

Directors do not find bruises and scars
and call the police
they kindly turn a blind eye
as if a grandparent
or neighbor
not wishing to disturb your piece

Girlfriends do not stay yours forever
they change
move on
cheat

Everything changes
except you
you are stationary
incapable of the change you need most.

Word Bank (A Clever Little Screw You)

Upon reflection of
those who have left
the quality of people
is astounding

The Canadian
baby gay
in love
or lust
a more-than-friend
with a boy
whom no one approves
all convinced
he deserves better
hassling him until death
renouncing his happiness
vanished as quickly as I did
or so it seems
phantom messages never sent
nor received

The activist
or so he calls himself
studying politics
with a minor
in being a douche bag
preaching the power of a single voice
against social injustice
and neglecting the power
held in his voice
in the demeaning tone
playing with boys
eating girls whole
and spitting out the bones
careful to work off the extra calories
hours spent at the gym
the one who meticulously plans time
can't spare a moment for a reply
too busy chasing the Canadian for a date
he will never have

The ex-girlfriend
whom I shall not boil down
for she is not worth the effort
it meant nothing
well something
but not much
a fling
a fuck buddy
in hindsight
being less than Harry
it ended quickly
muggles and wizards
refusing contact
platform 9 and 3/4 does not exist
there is no train
only baggage

The attempt
misread intentions
from a woman
too collected to be called a girl
blinded with affection
for her therapist
unable to divert her eyes
friend dates
after tears
embarrassed as hell
unable to say no
kind at first
now silent
as if we never spoke

The friend's boyfriend
whom I only met because of a man
far better than he could ever hope to be
reminding me of flaws


Those almost gone
the two
much more frightening
the people
capable of identifying
every individual in this post
those who know most
no longer dating
but will forever be close

The model
striving for perfection
regretting past relationships
burning through boys
with the nuances of the drunken vernacular
the scorning of the past tense
scorning food
hypothetical hospital beds reserved
reservations you still haven't used
reluctantly visiting me while ill
Cypress haunting you
ghosts of have been people
roaming the halls
echoing your current health
you promise you're not gone
say only a few words
but assure me
I have been missed
comforting me after hanging up
in disbelief

The has been missionary
using up all of his spare compassion
leaving only the mathematician
a botched college plan
unending love halted
leaving only a cold calculating
machine
granting me the supreme pleasure
of hearing your voice
while hospitalized
your answering machine having more
soul than your voice
the sing-song days of the musician are gone
the activist no longer fighting
the president no longer residing
of all your titles
you are my friend
until I'm not longer deluded
into changing tenses
blacking out the
memories
blacking
out
me

How cruel to not provide a word bank
I'll provide you a letter for each stanza
an A
a B
followed with a D
two J's
a M
and a S

I wonder if you'll block this out of your memory
repressed
another unpleasant atrocity
coated with black paint
blending me with other forgotten memories
repented
but never released

I Look Fucking Different

I just realized how much I aged in six months.

This was me 6 months ago. I made jokes. I laughed. I had friends. I went to college full time. I had a scholarship to college. I was involved in campus activities. I even had a girlfriend for a little bit. I had a life.

This is me two psych wards and a suicide attempt later. I look a lot less likely to break into an uncontrollable screaming fit in the last picture. Or call you crying on the phone. Or freak out because I think the neighbors are trying to talk to me through the wall. All I do now is watch people leave, cry, take pills, and go to my fucking shrink. I no longer have a life. I have a mental illness.

I want my life back. I want to be happy. I want to have friends who want to talk to me. I want to be a teenager. I'm only eighteen and I feel like my life is over.

If your not going anywhere
and you still love me
why do I feel so alone?

Attention

Stand up straight
smile
put on your mask
let it become your skin
stretch the material
make it work
become nice
pretty
intelligent

Hide your demons
stuff them into the closet
never peaking
lock the door
run as far as you can

you attention seeking whore
always asking for something else
when really all you want is forgiveness
from them
or from you
allowing yourself to be
but such things do not bode well

Let me project it somewhere
or else it will eat me whole
this attention seeking monster
list your grievances
let me make you comfortable
I'm done taking about myself
things are too messy
I'll simply wish them away
or store them in a jar
buried in the backyard

Demons don't hide forever,
they are much more frightening
as their owner cowards in fear
proving to be worthless again.

Stay

You are a terrible little girl
grown into a worse woman
a weed with deep roots
too deep to pull out of the ground
plaguing your yard
your sidewalk
your life
but I've come to realize that in my terribleness
there was no chance for someone to love me
only bad here
unstable evil
screaming at times
crying at others
I wonder if anyone
could ever possibly stay

Not that it is deserved or earned
so you will have shame
and embarrassment
banished to the corner
like the terrible girl
you've always been

BPD

Loneliness
fear of abandonment
impulsive self-destructiveness
storminess in relationships
inability to achieve intimacy
these symptoms have become my life
try to reach for a helping hand
to find your going to be smacked instead
then left to the floor
where someone may one day find you
and take pity on you
but that day is not today

today you will feel guilty

today you will feel worthless

today you will skew reality
as you have so many times before
realize that there is no comfort for you
even storybook character struggle
and you are giving in without a fight

Make new friends
fake it for them
become close
cling
become angry
confess love
rinse and repeat

This is your new life
new state
new town
hide your demons
and run

Love

The lack of trust I feel
is killing all of my relationships
killing me
alienating me from
the ones who love me

but if they loved me
would it really matter?

Quick Change Disease

My flesh remains untorn
for a month
maybe more

It's hard to recall
certain time and dates
but the holes stay
tearing into my hands
little bites from nails

bandaids to cover
not that it helps
they heal no faster
sting no less

but that was the intention
was it not
to sting yourself alive
if you aren't starving yourself to death

quick change disease
from torn flesh
to no flesh
razors exchanged for
a porcelain thrown

it matters not the disease
as long as it hurts
stings
no need to bleed
my hands stay pot-marked
my arms stay scarred
my stomach shrunk
less canvas to paint
in the event of another
quick change disease

Wolf

Hold my hands
promise me

this place is safe
your dizziness
will not envelop you
blood will remain in your veins
and not spill unto the floor
Red will not be devoured by
Wolf
the have-nots will not tear into me
leaving trails of stories
on and around me
this place is safe
I am safe

These reassurances will not escape your mouth
I forbade them
banished to rot
forgotten
suffocating
may Wolf
feast on
broken promises
and
torn flesh.

Promise

Promise me you'll never leave
I'll make you break it
You have to go
Let me struggle
Leave me alone
I am always right
There is no help for me
You are leaving for your sanity
It took less than a month
For me to pity you
Gift you a lifejacket
Sending you safely to shore
Maybe you'll come back
I always half-hope they will
But not one has returned
See your exit and take it with grace
I learned from you
And love you for trying
But I can't be saved
Life without Harm
To distant to imagine
I'm not dead now
But what if stopping kills me?

I'm not at a point to disagree right now.

Cardboard

Being ignored is nothing new to me
you were not the first
nor will you be the last
these things will not effect
my view of you
or our relationship
I will effect
or is it affect myself
I was never good with words
maybe it is both
effect my view of myself
being an intangible
and affect
to influence
water affects cardboard
wearing holes in it
steady drops tearing it apart
and I affect myself
with pain
and effect myself
with words
because you could never be as cruel
or as full of hatred as I am
toward myself

Let me apologize for hurting you
or whatever wrong I have done
I am not a sorority girl
nor will I
have the same traits
my face
not pristine
nor is my body
but I am here
always
trying to talk to you
help you
but you cannot help an unwilling victim
you will not push me away
I will not lose this fight

You may leave me if you wish
make that call on your own
but I will not be the one to step away
making me a person I hate
leaving a person without a safety net
I will take care of your sick boyfriend
for he is my friend
and has done much for both of us
ran himself into the ground
but I am only so capable
night make me weak
wanting to stop makes me weak
being unable to stop makes me weak
I can only take care of one person at a time
and he needs me more
than I do
at this particular instant

Not that I believe you still read this
because if you can't respond to a message
then you can't read a blog
in case you aren't filled in
she doesn't like me
I'm a good second choice
dinner is still on
but as friends
and I want out
never seeing her again
shielding myself from inevitable heartbreak
I want you here
to comfort me
assure me that I'm worth this mess
that I won't be alone forever
but I'll wait
keeping my hands busy
and my mind numb.

Lost

I am lost
lost in a place I don't understand
lost alone
alone without another soul
surrounded by onlookers
no one lost with me
just watching
spectating on my choices
my methods.

I regret opening up to them.

They don't understand me.

Words

If bodies could tell stories
I'd like to imagine
mine would tell you
that I am not worth the breath expelled
in shallow breaths
not worth the energy wasted
creating new plasma
which will soon be destroyed
not worth the scabs
that cover my arms
or the material that cover my scabs
and the hateful words
I cling to
writing them down
in sloppy shorthand
maybe I'll show you sometime
when I'm better
and steel
looks incapable of hurting me

But now looks are like daggers
cutting me into pieces
as if I haven't done enough damage
which I haven't
because I'm still feeling
still here
as much as I wish I wasn't
if I could hide behind my jackets and jeans all year long
no matter how much I detest the fabric
I would live a more pleasant life
but such things are not allowed

I ought to suffer
let the words come to life on my skin
let them overcome me
words I take from opinions of me
mine and others
but mostly mine
3/5 mine
2/5 someone else
making it so my body doesn't even belong to me
I'm a slut and a demon
because of boys
who taught me to think as such
and lesbo for an uncomfortable truth I've eased into
accepting myself
and fuck-up for ignoring girls who needed me there
and most recently hopeless
for disappointing too many
different boys
who I should be strong for
but I am unable to

Maybe next time I'll write something good
if anything comes to mind.

Nine Shades of Useless

My sociology class knows me well
studying suicide rates
in environments I'll never live in
never to touch their soil
I'd live in Russia though
or a similar
but also Russian country
under oppression
with seventy successes
out of every 100,000 people
and I feel I should be helping them
instead of writing stupid poetry
my feelings are a waste of space
I want to bury myself in work
close the windows
lock the doors
hide from everyone
those I can't say no to
urging me to run
escape those who remind me of myself
playing house with a cold
or cancer
buying a wig so all anyone knows
is that
something is wrong
never what
is wrong
my.
underlying.
issues.
do.
not.
concern.
you.
but I'd take help with symptoms
if that would be possible

Freeze

Acknowledge this please
muffled cries for help
weakly begging
my mask betraying me
conforming to my face too well
becoming my skin
not that there is much left
maybe that's the motive
to remove something face
imaginary toxins
these are not new to you
but I am still defenseless
you do not have the strength to fight my battles
as well as your own

Freeze

Ask me questions
becoming the first
reclining
streetlights shining by the end
sharing bits of our stories
reserving hospital beds
one without flesh
the other without blood
always on red or higher
become the first to ask me to stop
staring in wide-eyed horror
seeing scabs
"make me proud"
after you down food
eating bites of terrible cake
pouting as I steal the check
smirking as I botch a lie
my straighter never so hated
cheering me up
screaming on a bridge
singing songs you didn't know
until you opened your mouth
posting feelings on a truck
not the one who saved us
from talking dolls
no buttons needed
things are easy with you
no concepts
just actions and memories
but I did not make you proud
I will never make you proud

Freeze

Tell me lies
knowing nothing
never stopped you from trying
nor me
from trying to fix
or judge
overnighters rendered meaningless
my brother-in-arms should understand
you honorably discharged
moving on to wars with pot
alcohol
and working out
while I fight juvenile battles with blood
which you are so sure you've won
liar
sharing music
I must scare you
the idea of me
how bad it can get
being this out of control
so reckless
wasting gauze and tape
you make me feel inhuman
making me an animal
gnashing my teeth
catching my tongue
clamping down
refusing my opinion
the blood not being a draw back
you cannot save me
you cannot even help me
humanity becomes me
I will help you
to gain goodwill
but you shall remain silent

Freeze

Ask me nonsense
am I okay?
am I hurt?
am I bleeding?
these questions
are meaningless
the answers being
no
yes
and if I'm not I want to be
every single time
without fail
you mean so well
giving me your number
to call anytime
but I'd first die
than disappoint you
we are not yet close
that close
close enough to be unashamed of my actions
but we can sing together
both asleep in the choir loft
make our countries go to war
talk frivolously
let's not go deeper
not yet
I'll care for you while drunk
without hesitation
but please don't care for me
I will hurt you

Freeze

The Last Day of Januaury

I'm feeling for the first time
in months
since summer
I have been numb
unfeeling
now I'm crying
over something as silly as a girl
who may or may not like me
crying over life
my sick friend
who almost died
secrets I shouldn't know
boys who I try so hard to nurture
who don't have the time of day for me
or my patheticness
which isn't even a word
proving I'm a moron
this girl dragging up scary memories
asking me to remember faces
then half flirting with me
broke me

Perfection

You opening up
has me thrilled
and terrified

I'm flattered you trust me
and your actions are beyond my scope of understanding
you learned why
your eyes like saucers
huge
unable to focus
you blocked it out from earlier
and I understand why

You
for the first time in
four months
make sense
your actions framed by the past
clinging to those younger
to guilt stricken
to speak
of drunken nights and comrades
you
alone
humanizing a demon
my demons
our
demons

By far
this being the most terrifying
you are the nicest person
ever to speak to me
working me over hurdles
ironically
having no idea they were from similar situations
being my first comfortable hug in years
something he took away
and you gave back

While the past is frightening
and in a beat-up truck
I had to fight to keep calm
let you finish
not interrupt your second coming out
this being more important to gender preferences

I could never be angry with you
I am not perfect either
No one is

Perfection is the best mix of imperfections
and you have that mastered

The Giver

To give
to provide a service
something I frequently do
for no charge
to expect nothing in return
a present
even if I'm energy drained
and already eaten

I give my reasons for giving
stating them slowly
not really believing them
but my motormouth would betray me
so I slowly say words
carefully thought
perfectly enunciated

I will also
eventually
and most importantly give
one day
I'll do it silently
and not a soul will know
I will cave in to the pressures of giving
but first I will give everything I have

Sounds

Boys kissing
making the sounds of fish
as they pull apart slowly
then fiendishly attack each other again
is a sound of my life
amusing
even if affection frightens me

Droning teachers
the lessons I am no longer
capable of listening to
so I try to take notes
but instead I just draw terrible stick people
saving my energy for more pressing matters
this sound while not unpleasent
is pestering

Clicking keys
texting furiously
helping a friend
make that plural these days
is another frequent sound
more stressful that the first
and much harder to ignore

By far the worst sound
is nothing
silence deadly to the soul
and sleep being toxic
I stay awake
mocklying telling myself
that the blue of my eyes
is accented by the perpetual bags
which no base can cover

The sound of nothing
drives me insane
no longer a term I can loosely use
due to a friend
if we venture to call her that
in psyciatric care

In a sick way
I'm jealous

Jealous of the break she can take from life
not only allowed
but encouraged
to shut out the outside world
to better herself
to be at peace

Only made worse
by the knowledge that I could go
take a month off
or a semester
or forever
that I am ill enough to go away
but that would be failure
and I would be unable to live with
the expectations I have shattered

While my pedastool is not high
the fall would still be painful
humiliating
unacceptable
degrading

My concerns are no longer for my health
which is so far gone the fight is useless
they are for others
friends who are ill
worse at hiding it
friends who wear their sickness

I will suffer
telling snippets of my life
feeling guilty for honesty
the overwhelming majority of my time
I will suffer silently
letting no one be privy to my life
making it obvious to others
that I am hurting

That silence being the most comforting thing
better than fish kisses
and droning
and clicking
and nothing
that silence means no one knows me
really knows me
and I am safe from the insight I willing give into others lives

The sound of hypocracy
is the sound of ignoring advice I give others
a sound I hear far too often.

Box Cutter Boy

Without passing judgment
due to your current state
you passed it all the same

I am horrible for my acts
I understand that
such things are blinding
the weapon not withstanding

Let's make a deal
box cutter boy
I'll stop when you stop
and I won't call you horrible
or taunt you
such things being unbecoming

Further more
besides these words
I will try to forget these feelings
being an outcast among outcast
crushing my hopes of your understanding

Let's swap poisons
jackets needed for both
shame involved in each
they aren't that different
we could be the same

But I'll live with my consequences,
while trying to shield you from yours.
The outcast forever giving
in hopes of salvation.

Home

Playing nice
no longer regulated to the playground
such rules follow into the house
some damage irreversible
eighteen years unable to be expunged
hiding like roaches
crawling in the dark
hiding in the light

Skin itches at the thought
of being friendly
and at new wounds
fresh from unrelated incidences
mock concern for spider bites
useless
as are bribes
and threats

Locking the door
protected from you
and drunken girlfriends
the later run into your arms
hiding from misguided backlash
words meant for a more sinister object

Your daughter was not missed
you missed a plaything
an idea
a running target
the dog being unacceptable
teeth gnarled
ready to snap
refusing to become your object
your daughter a coward
bows to others will
without second thought

Fear her enemy
she waits until she is returned
to where she belongs

Anything different must be inherently bad
this being a basic rule of humanity
things not understood are frightening
and should be avoided
at all
costs

My Dear Friends

Long live the King
Long live the Tyrant
Long live the Lily-Livered Bastard

Long live committee questioning
Long live four hour meetings with no point
Long live playing politics

Long live refusing to cooperate
Long live attacking others
Long live hurtful emails

Long live group census
Long live ignoring the board
Long live amending the constitution

Long live fleeing the scene
Long live running with your tail between your legs
Long live the King

Hope

I see you keep my blog open
in the back tab
which scares me
because while I acknowledge your importance here
it is not a conversation I wish to have verbally

Not now
you have your own problems
caging you with guilt
from something you are just watching
is the opposite of my intention
I wish to inform
bring the issue into light
it only took me four months
and fear as a motive

I'm trying again
starting over
as my hands shake tracing lightly in washable pen
not wishing to set my standard too high
if I can win for a day
just during the daylight
if I frequently wash my hands
then there is hope
from daylight
to a day
to a week
to a month
to a year
to freedom

Freedom from being apprehensive
which is just code for what I want to do
the words being too terrible to type
there is one thing that solves apprehension
and it is not appropriate to do
in a best friends apartment
or really anywhere
but I will continue
until I am saved
or there is nothing left

Do not worry for me
I will be fine
he won't
worry for him
he has yet to see the problem

Someone else will come for me
in time I will
I am my hope

Leaps and Bounds

Better
is a relative term
used by politicians and doctors
on budgets and patients
that aren't looking well
no hope of survival
but not as dismal as before
but still broke and dying

Better is something not used to describe people
and there problems
there is no sliding scale
saying I am better to me
means I'm not dying
and to others means I'm taking care of myself
which I am not
I'm just being more careful with the problem

Saying you're seeing leaps and bounds of progress makes me a skeptic
we're both sick
we acknowledge that
but it seems that we can only see the good in each other
and the bad in ourselves

Consumed

The idea of being babysat is appalling
especially to a college student
but I write this from a friend's couch
where I was watched all night
because I am "dehydrated"

The lie almost works
seeing my face has lost color
and I can't think
or speak
or walk
without having a bit of a stumble
embarrassing myself

While trying to sleep
five in the morning at this point
a friend told me that I should never
be ashamed of being sick
it wasn't like I brought this around

Not having the energy
nor the mind compactly
fighting those words seemed useless
I feel asleep in a lie
letting people believe I was good
if that would help them believe humanity
or sleep halfway decently

I ought to be ashamed
that I do this
that I wish to do it again
that right now
on a friends couch
it is all I am thinking about

I am comsumed

Vindicated

From my fingers spit words
angry and depressed
but I want something happy
hopeful

There is more to me than
my roommate
my sexuality
my enemies
my disorder
there is a person

A girl to be exact
who likes fairytales
good ones where the princess escapes
where she is so happy that she doesn't even need a proper ending
just a rushed wedding and the knowledge that she is free

This girl
this half princess
part pauper
piece jester
and fraction knight
likes to laugh
saving fictional video game characters in good company
drinking coke zero which is manly
or an equally silly adjetive
hysterical as in an attempt to play any sort of board game
even those that are as basic as don't eat the dice
playing Candy Land while manic in the lobby of my dorm
pretending to be a french fry walrus
which I will still deny in polite conversation

Even if all I do is take pictures
I am so much more that that

I am joyful
singing poorly into my hairbrush
with thirty minutes until class
and half dressed
so I run up the hill in chunky heels
no make up
hair half-brushed
not regretting my decision for a moment
because that song is always too perfect to skip
and hairbrush singing is a mood lifter

I am stubborn
wearing my dresses when it is fifty
fighting scarfs until my hands are numb
the begrudgingly taking it when offered again
when really I'm dying from excitement
at any prospect of warmth
and walking to meetings
off campus
where there is no sidewalk
and it's night
refusing to show my fear
until a terrified call at a gas station
where my voice betrays me
showing the fear I had been feeling the whole time
scolding myself before anyone else can get the chance to

I am energetic
staying up overnight with a friend in need
ignoring finals
trying to cheer him up
and successful through Mario Kart
and Mario Party
playing and talking until our fingers and eyes were sore
never noticing we were both crying
continuing to race as if it could save our souls
maybe it did
because by seven we didn't remember the sad
just racetracks and jokes

I am clumsy
in a way that I pray is adorable
because no other way would it be acceptable to break fountain drink machines
only to have someone magically fix it
tripping up stairs
and falling off of chairs
only to catch myself at the last possible second
trying to play it off smooth
as I am enlightened that I have been found out
I was seen
with a light-hearted chuckle lightening the mood
from crimson to the pale pink of my cheeks
the color I turn when embarrassed

I am alkward
spelled with and L
because that's how I say it
making inconvenient movements while sleeping
mispronouncing important words
fishing and fisting are only a letter off
but to your choir director it's a huge letter
feral and pharaoh are also close
but in similar company the effect is
far less traumatic
and allows me to enjoy it more

I am me
and if you don't like it
I'm going to have to ask you
to get the fuck out of my life

But trust me
most days
I am worth it
plus some.

Bitter

You cluck disapproving of my score
shame covers my face
I am relieved at your old computer
and the lack of webcam
my voice masking the shame
that my face could not
my lack of confidence showing more than ever

These situations are a complicated book
where all the plot lines are intermingled
and I'm only the reader
these things do not involve me
vivid and emotional
but are in no way mine

In a different circumstance I'd call for help
proving to you that I can use my phone
but disproving your theory of importance
the state of now
it is not importance
it is survival

You reek honesty with me
being open almost immediately
but I
I hide behind bigger secrets,
sharing half and calling it done
letting you believe I am open

I'm not

A part of me asks
if your so perceptive then why can't you help me
realize that I'm
hurting
bleeding
dying
and save me

Such things are unfair
for you are a busy person
Sunday shift in the morning
walks at night
otherwise

I fear no amount of papers
parchment or English
will matter in the long run
you've made it abundantly clear that there are
others

I am replaceable
interchangeable

"Never make someone a priority if you are just an option to them."
But here I'm in need and alone
and it's hard not to feel bitter

Your so loving though
to everyone
but I can't feel it
I am numb

This is not your fault
you did not make me sick
you did not hurt me
maybe it's a combination
of the vegetarianism
which you don't believe
and the depletion of fluids
but I can't stop shaking

And I am totally alone.

(P.S. Sorry for murdering your butterfly)

A Message From GaGa

My roommate just sleeps in her bed
letting the day wash over her
with the covers over her face

Sunlight does not touch our room
she retreats at the sight
The room is bare
boring
banal

Her and I are from different worlds
education included in our few ties
and this room.

She eats
sleeps
lives here
where I only pass through
refusing sleep
having my meals elsewhere
avoiding her

Her huge hoop earrings crowding our vanity
where she is vain
and I am sloppy
rubbing base on my face as I run down the stairs
tripping some
she carefully applies her eyeliner
and places each individual hair
then slowly walks out
no rush

She calls me Lady GaGa
to insult me
and I just smile
knowing in my world that is a compliment
and in hers I am a freak

Her world is not worth living in
she stands for nothing
falls for anything
is too strong to cry
but not strong enough to escort
a boy
or two
out of her bed
that is not strength

She is not too strong
she is not strong

Repent

The demon is repenting
silently praying for forgiveness
but banished
away from good
away from help

An attempt to pay penance
but confessions are neglected
no amount of sacrifice
could redeem these
sins
save this body
this soul

The demon recoils
reevaluates
retries

The fall from heaven is too far
to survive unbroken

Dead

I am a butterfly murder.
I create,
then destroy.

Friends that were rich like chocolate
go sour,
like lemons.

Demon,
he called me.
I wrote it down.
Never to forget it.

Everyone will know that I am demon.

Poison

My father's house is poison, it seeps into my body and attacks. My bones are full of poison when I leave, my marrow tainted. I resolve to fight, or try. I have antibodies. Friends who offer their marrow for my safety, replacements. My father's poison does not work on them. They are safe. Safe from all evil. They protect me. With antibodies, I will try to fight.

Post-it

I trick people into thinking
I'm fun,
then I bore them
to death.

Sincere condolences,
The Calendar Girl

Belief

Long ago I believed in
Santa and fairies
but I was just
a kid

I believed in you
and your ability to protect
but you let me
fall

you hurt me
broke me
stole
me

I believed