hold you

i wish i could hold you. wish i could turn the pain into beauty, and lay flowers on your shoulders and slowly wind the clock forward to a time when cars fly, and the sky dances, and we’re no longer broken. and i know things wouldn’t be perfect, but i’m tired of stitching myself together, scar by scar. tired of looking at myself in the mirror and falling apart on the bathroom floor.

i wish i could suffer the blows with you, and wipe away your forestfire tears, for as long as you need me too.

i wish i could write you a happy ending, where you don’t have to deal with any of this. because i hope you know every single day how beautifully imperfect you are. how you are so much more than any wound or scar. 

i wish you knew how much i care about you. because maybe i don’t know your name, or maybe i do. but i do know that you’re human, and you’re worth it, okay? you’re worth the space you take up. you’re worth all your flaws, and bad days. and we need you here. so please.


Listen to the spoken word version here.

when i was younger

trigger warning: suicidal thoughts, mention of blood, self-harm, and just some generally heavy topics. please be safe while reading, and if you need to talk to anybody, find a crisis line in our area here.

when i was younger, i used to smear blood on book pages. so whenever i read through my old copy of harry potter and the dealthy hallows, there’s still reddish stains to remind me of it. remind me what a mess i am. remind me that i don’t know why this happened, or who did this, and maybe it’s just genetics, but if it’s just genetics, i still don’t understand what did i do to deserve this? when i was younger, i used to think a lot about what other people thought. and sometimes, i would spend hours just imagining how much they hated me. how much of a burden i was. pushing myself down further and further, wondering how long it would take to turn to dust. and other things i still do, like aimless google searches, shouting out into oblivion. and crying after school. and hurting myself between answering emails and text messages. when i was younger, i used to slam my head against the wall with tears streaming down my cheeks just begging the world to make it over. when i was younger, there was a knot of feelings in my chest, and i didn’t know what to do with it. so i learned to crash and burn, and spark, and hiss, and go off, and maybe growing up turned me into some kind of bomb. and maybe i’m tired of constantly drifting through the danger zone. because i still do it. and then… i got older. and then i fell apart in so many different ways and clicked a couple puzzle pieces together. and listened to songs that made me sob my eyes out on the floor because all the emotions come on like a tsunami, and i’m not really sure what’s happening to me. and…  then i got older. and i tried to remember what hope felt like, and i’m still not entirely sure. and some days, it’s hard to believe i am not seven years old anymore. but i am not seven years old anymore. i am older. and braver. and smarter. and stronger. strong enough to admit that i’m fucked up. strong enough to try and deal with it. strong enough, in the way you become after years of trying to pick yourself up off the ground and finally sort of managing it. so much stronger. and maybe i can write myself a place where i’m ok. and maybe, maybe, someday i’ll get there.

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trigger warning: depersonalization, self-hatred, numbness

songs i don’t even like flicker through me. disjointed thoughts. it all collapses way, way too quickly. and i’m so, so tired. but i did good, right? maybe? and can you just say that you’re proud of me so i can pretend to be happy, and is that going to be enough for me? i’m just not sure right now. what i’m supposed to do to make me happy. and i’m not sure, so mostly i just try to let my head to fall to the ground and the thought kind of overrun me. and i’m not sure who i’m supposed to be but i failed at being myself or it feels like it today and i’m really sleepy. the thoughts are ants, and they run over me. i don’t know how to be honest about my feelings without laughing and that scares me. that scares me. that the crows call, and it’s only a moment and i’ll grow back from it but right now i’m kinda drifting away from myself and i hate the expression on your face. and i hate how my feelings are always so complicated. and sometimes, i’m fine. but right now the fog is thick. and i can’t stand the lines of this world if they aren’t aesthetic. and sometimes i wish everyone who was like me could just stop existing so i could be the best at everything and there would be no competing and no feeling like i’m not good enough to consider this as a job but no one deserves to die for my insecurity. when i look at the old pictures of me, it’s hard to even comprehend how much time has passed but it has passed and it is passing and that’s kind of unfathomable to me and who will i become and what if i’m not what i want to be? what if it’s not all right to be tired and a little sleepy? what if i’m not the next child prodigy? i’m scared of the sunrise in my bedroom and the creaks just behind me. i’m scared of the echo of your laughter as it becomes a coat of leather enveloping me. and i’m so scared of being abandoned. and lonely.

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