make it stop

trigger warning: suicidal thoughts mention, self-harm mention, general heavy content. need to talk to anyone? crisis lines are here.

fingers digging into my palms. why do i fantasize about self-harm so much, even on a good day?  

why am i weak like this? why did i cut myself again, digging one more tally mark into the row of scars on my broken skin?

and why don’t you fucking get it? no matter how loud i scream. no matter how well i try to explain it. why aren’t you concerned? i just… i don’t get it.

and why… am… i… so… exhausted?


Hey guys. I just wanted to say that, well, this is a vent poem. Basically, I’ve been having a lot of bad days of late, and… yeah. But that doesn’t make any of the thoughts in it true, and I know I’ve said this before, but I feel like it’s important to say again. You’re not a bad person for struggling. You’re not alone, even if you feel like it.  Suicide and self-harm aren’t solutions. But at the same time, expressing those feelings is, to me, incredibly important in terms of processing them and dealing with them in a healthy way. So please, if this poem hits close to home with you, reach out. Talk to someone you trust–a parent, a teacher, a friend, a counsellor. Just the fact that you related to this poem is a sign that you’re not the only one who feels this way. And please, hang in there. I promise that someday, someday, we’re not going to feel this way.

-dragonwritesthings

february 2nd, 2020

buried in the stone-cold silence. and i’m sorry if there was something i was supposed to do, something i was supposed to tell you. i’m a bit of a fucking mess right now, but i promise i still love you.

it’s just… sometimes the worst thing about anxiety is that i genuinely can’t tell what’s just my head and what’s actually the reality. 

and how did time manage to pass this quickly? because it feels like yesterday, that we were just kids, running around your back yard pretending for a while that we didn’t have mental illness. 

and it’ll hollow out my chest. it’ll carve out all my hope, and confidence, cut the power, turn off the wifi, slam the door. get it through your fucking head. you’re always going to be alone in here.


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i am normal

i am normal. for one goddamn moment. not the pile of skin and bones i have come to call home. i am just a teenager. please tell me that i am just a teenager because i don’t want to be alone. 

i am normal. and you can’t tell me otherwise, because anger is a wall of fire i will build around myself to keep everything else out because i’ve been through enough. 

so i am normal. so i am fine. so i am pretty, and perfect, and all right, and look at me with my blog, and my good grades, and my lovely social life.

look at me. look at me straight in the fucking eye and tell me any of this mattered. tell me it was worth it.

i mean, go ahead. try.

nothing you say is gonna make me believe it.


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let’s call it a brave face

i know i can’t keep this up forever. and i think you know it, too. don’t you? because beneath this golden armour,  i’m a fucking mess. and maybe i broke something, or maybe you did, but i don’t think it matters anymore. because no amount of blame is gonna put me back together again.

i know i can’t keep this up forever, but i just want to say it was… it was good while it lasted.

and more than anything, i think i just need to be needed. okay? so you don’t need to pay me back.  because this is it. this is all i ever wanted, all i ever was. my single goal in life was to feel rooted into the ground. and i honestly don’t care right now.

so i’ll be sobbing at your feet, begging you to hold me down.


This isn’t written about anyone in particular, just some general issues I have in realtionships a lot.

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cold

trigger warning: suicidal thoughts mention. need to talk to anyone? crisis lines are here.

numb hands, and a heavy head. and i know it’s a mental illness, but it’s still in my control and i still should have fixed it.

i should have been better. should have been perfect. not frozen numb on the inside, hands in my pockets as i realize that loneliness does not discriminate based on circumstance. and that even when i’m surrounded by the people who love me most, i will still fall asleep, and my mind will still feel like stone.

and sometimes when i cry, i feel like i’m six years old. and my mom tells me to stop. my mom tells me it’s not your time to go and how can thoughts of suicide at such a young age have somehow felt so normal?

so for all of the times when the lonely felt like permafrost seeping through me. when i was defined by these aching concrete bones. i am not alone.

there is love out there. there is something like a small beam of hope, and i won’t say it’ll go away forever. but there’s more to life than feeling this cold.

and you know you brought yourself back to life from the brink of oblivion, right? you rubbed your hands together. you smashed sunlight into sparks and somehow lit a fire. you wrote yourself a home. 

and it’s gonna be ok. believe me. i’d know.


Check out the spoken word version here.

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