september 30th, 2019

i took you to town on our lunch hour. just the two of us. in the crisp autumn air, touring vintage shops and bookstores like typical high school students. with typical jansport backpacks. laughing, and looking at books and geeking out about things i bet no one else would even notice. and maybe this is what meeting your soulmate looks like. like finally finding someone who speaks your language. someone who lights up every room they’re in. because i took you to town, and showed you around, and… i was happy. for a moment. i was okay. i was the eye between the storms, and i was okay. and i know it’s such a small thing. but it meant the world to me. that day. i hope you know that. i hope you know how many of my favourite memories were made with you. and i hope you know that the falling leaves did not feel like death omens as long as i stayed there. beside you. and i hope you know how much i love you. because i do. i love you. like a sister i never got to have. like the first real friend i’ve ever had. like one of the best people i know. i love you. 


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an empty space nestled deep inside me

the hollow cave of my skeleton. fake conversation. and the weight of your expectation. and the moment you realize there are some things that there are no answers for, even when you google it. and even though most of the time, i can trick myself into thinking i’m fine, i know perfectly well i’m just lying to myself about it. and every time i close my eyes, all i can see are the fissures, slowly growing into fault lines, and it’s all in my mind. and it’s all in my mind. and it’s all in my mind… and there is a storm i am numb to, raging on outside. and there is a storm i may never escape from, raging out beyond this night. and there is a world, burning down on my shoulders, and i don’t know what to tell you when you cry on my shoulders, because i don’t know what to tell myself when my tears dribble down my shoulders… and maybe… maybe this doesn’t matter. maybe i’m just a kid, shouting out her feelings into nowhere. or maybe that’s just today. because half of me is okay, but half of me feels like i’m underwater. i’m underwater. i’m underwater… and i’m not okay…


just a little sad poem for you all. hang in there. mental health resources post is here.


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september 18th, 2019

after nikita gill. i mean, not completely, but a little bit.

i just want to write a poem for the people who are alone in this. i want to write a poem for the people who beleive they are so fucking below this. i want to write a poem for the broken pieces. a poem for the people who gave up on themselves a long time ago. a poem for the people who still get surprised whenever strangers on the street notice them enough to even bother saying hello. a poem for the people with bombs in their chests. because if there’s anything writing has taught me, it’s that the shittiest and most beautiful thing is that we’re never the only ones going through this. even though i wish none of us had to ever even think about going through this. even though i just wish, sometimes, that i could close my eyes, and make the pain go away, all right? and i just want to write a poem for how much this world needs you here. for how much i want you here. and i’m not saying it’s always going to be easy. i’m not saying it’s ever going to be easy. i just want the two of us, somehow, someday, even if it’s a million miles away, to make it through this.


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and i will not know who i am without my self-hatred

trigger warning: self-harm. if you need to talk to anyone, no matter what you’re going through, find a helpline in your area here.

just let me explain, okay? because if  i explain, maybe you’ll forgive me for hitting myself early in the morning behind buildings because i just couldn’t take it anymore. and because i just feel like tearing myself apart. and because the feeling, of doubling over, and the gravel beneath my feet, and the tears, and the wind rushing over my shattered cheeks…. and i just hate everything about myself so much today. and because i don’t know who i am. and because… it’s just all too much, i guess. right now. and i will try to breathe in the pain. not because i like it. because… it’s the only time i feel numb, to be honest.  numb to the fact that it’s 1a.m. as i write this, and i don’t know who i am, and  i’m spinning out of control, and self harm is still a black hole. and i’ll claw my way out, but no matter how far away i try to walk from it, there are still days when i feel its pull. and i know this is bullshit, but every day i still buy it. so why am i still here? why am i hiding behind a building, punching myself like that will actually make anything go away or something? and why do i hate myself so much, and love myself so much, and why is everything like this, and why are my feelings like this, and why am i such a fucking mess, and is there ever going to come a day when i will not feel like this–


the last couple weeks have been rough. really rough. i don’t know why exactly, i’m just… a mess. i hope it gets better soon, because it’s starting to feel paralyzing. having to constantly feel like this. if you’re going through the same thing, please reach out. there is help, and you are worthy of it. i’m rooting for you.


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and i will pour plaster over my scars

trigger warning: self-harm

there’s a knife-shaped wound on my ankle that i gave myself today. and i will try my hardest when the darkness rises, not to tear myself apart. or at least… i’ll try not to hold a pair of scissors that way again. even though i probably will hold a pair of scissors that way again. i’ll try not to be so horrible to myself all the time. i’ll try not hate myself enough to tear the clouds off the sky. and it probably won’t work for a really long time, but i’m going to try. there’s a knife-shaped wound on my ankle, like the rung of a ladder, and i’m trying not to follow it down this path forever. i swear. it’s just… hard. because there’s a knife-shaped wound on my ankle, and i hate that it’s fading, because as long as it’s there i actually feel like a functional person, which is so fucked up, in ways i can’t even begin to explain. and honestly, all i know right now is how to hate myself for giving in. because it’s a toxic cycle, and once you really start listening to the monsters, you just sort of start to give in… and there’s a knife-shaped wound on my ankle, that still hasn’t faded, and honestly some days it takes everything i have in me not to flat-out just reopen it. but i haven’t done that. maybe i will, someday. but i didn’t do it today. and that has to count as progress.


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