i never liked the color red

my emotions make themselves known by pumping my blood faster and faster until my breath can’t keep up any longer and my head seems to forget its place during the day is under the sun, not rested on a pillow in my blackened room

my emotions spiral themselves around the bagel i brought myself to eat and i can’t help but wonder how it would be to live without an urge to reintroduce my finger to my throat and let them dance around for awhile

my family says to control my emotions but i keep letting my emotions control me until they burst out of my dirt-colored eyes, creating a muddy monsoon that sweeps up any sliver of hope and rushes it away with all of the people who tell me i’m a liability

maybe the problem is me because my days of the week pill container is full of chemical happiness but my heart remains empty, longing for the days when my nervous system did not rely on prescriptions to stay alive

as i resist the temptation to let my anger swallow me whole, my lilac manicured nails fight the urge to make drawings on my skin that has been broken too many times to remember

my emotions continue to control me
and i don’t want to remember any of it at all.

Advertisements

sweet dreams

there is no scarier feeling than laying in a blackened room with nothing but my delusions to lay beside me
laying there thinking that my dreams will be heaven but here i am, stuck in purgatory
i am swallowed whole by the thought that my yesterdays were a daydream and my present is a nightmare
my future haunts me yet it’s all i want

staring at the swivel of the fan,
i lose all reality
i forget my favorite things and an all too familiar monster snuggles against me
here i am,
alone
yet with so much unwanted company

and with burdened eyes, i lye there unable to control the spirals
slowly, i fall into heaven

hopes, dreams, & haircuts

I’m losing my grip on everything I’ve ever held close, not sure how to grasp onto things that are slipping through my fingers like the crumbles of dirt from which the person I am becoming is growing

The temptation to cut off what is dragging me down and watch it fall to the floor with six inch locks of my fiery hair is consuming me more than any heartbreak ever did. To finally have control over something in my life would be my greatest feat, even if it’s just for a moment.

It is difficult to understand how I can mourn my old self and also long to make everything new. To start over, forget who I am and focus on who I am becoming. I don’t know how to live a life of self-love, but God knows I’m trying. This October, I hope I can look in the mirror and smile, knowing I’m well on my way to a happy heart and some semblance of bliss.

distance no. 1

sometimes i run towards you with a mile wide grin
but when i reach you
i keep running

you stand there
lonely and confused
watching me run into the desert must be terrifying

but just know
i will always come back to you

my mother’s daughter

every time your words pierce my fragile mind, i find myself six years old again. staring at my thighs and wondering why they can’t look like yours
why i can’t be what you want

you have a funny way of pushing me away, then dragging me back into your twisted games, your crooked lies. i never wanted to see that the most lethal danger to my peace has been you

but yet again, i am taken back to when i am nine years old
and you don’t allow me an ice cream cone
not really a big deal, except i watch my friends eat guiltlessly as i sit staring at my thighs wishing i could burn them away

and now i think to myself, it’s always been the same with you.

because now i am thirteen years old and i step on that ruthless black pit every morning like clockwork
the digits burn into my mind, as i cry because another tenth of a pound is going to make me lose you

but i never had you, did i? i was always asking for things you couldn’t give
how selfish of me
unconditional love is too much to ask

and now, six years later and i find myself hunched over in the bathroom, doors locked, eyes watery, red scratches on my thighs
my finger has found a home in my throat and i think about how i could never find a home in you, and never will.

monsters under the bed

little potted plants
white duvets
crinkled sheets
and a bleeding heart

dim lights
stuffed giraffes
my favorite sweater
and tear stains

how terrifying it is to
be in a place so safe
but feel so
in danger

19

i am from pigtails and plaid skirts and penny loafers with a lucky penny slipped inside
i am from therapy sessions and pill bottles stacked up in the closet

i am from sleepovers and ice cream dates and striving for perfect scores
i am from wet pillowcases and puffy morning eyes

i am from long walks with good music and running to pound away my thoughts
i am from scales and calculating the caloric value of a grape

i am from family dinners with jeopardy as background noise
i am from grieving three losses and praying i wouldn’t be the next

i am from writing and target runs and sleeping til noon
i am from whispers and name calling and sweeping sorrows under the perfect expensive rug

i am from shopping and reality tv and historical debates
i am from covering up the damage i have done to myself with sleeves and a smile

i am from the light and the dark
i am from always waiting for the sun

dear life

There are no words in any language to describe the feeling I get in my chest, like something awful is happening even though I’m halfway through a laugh with my friends.

I hate the way my throat grows a lump big enough that I swear it could crush my entire body. Sometimes I wish it would, because God knows it’s already crushing my spirit.

I’ll never understand how I can stare at a wall and feel so empty, so hollow, yet feel everything all at once. Underwhelmed yet overwhelmed by life at the same time.

I don’t know how I can sit across from a person every week, protected by four comforting walls and a promise, divulging every nook and cranny of my mind, yet still feel like I am losing control.

I can’t comprehend why it brings me comfort to cause my body pain. How a sting can feel like relief. Like the hurt is flowing out of me, yet regret and disappointed rage in.

And so the cycle continues.