I Remember

my wrists are tinier than the size of a water bottle, veins peering blue and green as they wrap around what so little of what holds me together.

they hold scars on them, deep and some that are fading.

so I wear long sleeves, on days where the sun blasts and burns my cheeks red and tan.

my scars sometimes glisten when my palms brush against the steel strings of a brown stained guitar. and it tingles like the lines on the calluses of my fingertips.

hands that have seen so much greif. elbows protruded with bones that are sharp as knives.

with the gust of the wind, I could break. and I pray for that everyday.

I’m happy for you

You stop caring and I’m happy for you. I’m not someone worth thinking about anymore really.

I hold a lot of baggage and that’s something you don’t need right now. Or ever.

So I’ll be happy for you because I think being away from me is the best that life will give you.

and I’m a lot, I know. And I’m sorry.

I cry so much

I cry so much that I’m tired of seeing myself in the mirror. Eyes swollen and chest swelling with gasps of air.

I’m not sure how I’ve gotten this far yet regressed back so much to the point I’ve lost who I am.

I’ve failed myself, and especially my younger self.

So what’s the point in crying? I’m over that too.

Over myself & every little thing I fought for.

I’m sorry

I’m sorry you think about wanting to d!e everyday. I’m sorry that life has been so hard that to you, that’s the only answer.

I’m sorry that to me, that’s the only answer through this pain is eternal slumber. And I understand, I don’t see an answer out either.

your eyes are swollen.

yes I know, I’ve always been this way.

your wrists are scarred.

yes I know, they’ve been holding my pain.

your cheeks are hallow.

yes I know, my stomach has been turned inside out.

your ribs are showing.

yes I know, they poke out of my shirt.

Now you know, I’ve just always been this way. and this is how things have always been.

Everyday

Today my mom asked me why I haven’t eaten all day. This cycle goes on everyday.

Today my dad asked me why I didn’t want to eat all day. This question gets asked everyday.

Today my sister knocked on my door, dragged me out of bed, and asked me why I haven’t moved all day. This happens everyday.

Maybe I’m broken. No, I know the choices I made have been decided.

Maybe I’m frozen. No, I know the world is still moving on without me.

I don’t eat because I want to be pretty. The answer is simple really— I sit in my room staring at my wall because I simply don’t want to exist anymore. And some part of me hopes that one less meal means one less day of my life. I linger for just one day where I don't feel terrible anymore.

I don’t move because I don’t want to get hurt, I don’t say anything because I’m afraid of being a bother. I see the way people ignore my eyes, see my smile and think, "oh they’re fine." I hear the way people are afraid to ask how I’m doing. I hear the way they fumble their words of reassurance. I can see their schedules filled with plans that don’t include me. Or maybe— it's all in my head again & people don't hate me, I do.

So here I sit, staring at the wall, hoping that maybe tomorrow isn’t like everyday.

every time

every time I think I’m doing a bit better, someone has to stay something ten times worse that makes me regress back into the depths of hell that took me so long to get out of.

or maybe I’m just blaming everyone except me. so like always, the guilt eats me up inside.

I wish you were nicer, I wish I was too. But it’s funny when I speak like you do, then I’m the b!tch instead of you.

Your eyebrows raise with questions that are rhetorical. But when I follow suit I’m suddenly the b!tch that gained an attitude.

Some days..

Some days I can’t move. I stare at the wall waiting for the floor to crumble beneath me to just end my misery.

I fantasize of walking into an icy cold river, rocks in my pockets, & dried flowers in my hair. Hoping, that it’ll just end my misery.

But then there’s a voice, screaming out my name on green covered hills. Praying, I make it back alive. The echoes ricocheting in my ears.

And I follow the soft voice waiting for me on the other side. Promising her that I’ll meet her in confidence one day.

Thank you for being you. Sending lots of hugs and good vibes your way!

needed this today! thank you!

A thank you letter to my sisters

Today you knocked on my door, and dragged me out of bed. You placed my cat in my arms, hoping I’d feel comfort instead of dread. It helped, for awhile, until you made me breakfast and coffee past noon. I yawned and cried, and you held my hand as I sobbed.

I gave you knives, scissors, & tweezers to place away for awhile. Telling you I can’t see them or I’ll harm myself & be hostile.

We’ve have our moments, and for them I am sorry. But I know if I fall I’ll always have my sister to catch me & carry.

Sisterhood is sacred, honest, & true. And forever may I be grateful of being blessed by you.

When I fainted, you placed me in bath water, & picked up my frail body off the floor. Heartbroken that the path towards healing was one that would feel evermore.

I remember when we were little and you would cover my ears with headphones, the vinyls playing loudly to fade out the screaming outside our doors. Playing games with me in the middle of the night while our parents roamed the streets looking for our missing brother. When I would get nightmares and you would share your half of the bed. When we had a fridge more than half empty and you would half a raw ramen and we would bite into them as they tasted like lead. When we would hide in the closet as they screamed at us to behave or they’d knock us out dead. When you reminded me to hold my pride as men would prey on me, praying we’d seek our revenge. When you handed me my favorite trinket as the ambulance took me away, holding my hand, & telling me I’ll be okay.

Many times have I failed finding sisterhood in others— and never does it touch the same. The lack of compassion is jarring, nothing can compare, or even aim.

There are too many who do not understand, the beauty of sisterhood & the chaos in its wonderland.

For my sisters I am grateful. Forever & ever.

May I try to live another day, just for my sisters.