I don't miss putting my ear against the door
Listening to yelling and breaking of glass
The pain in my chest as sharp as the peices fallen on the floor

I don't miss the tension that overwhelmed me
As soon as I saw him
And soon as I felt the presence of his body
In the room

But I miss my old couch-bed
Dog *** stained and all
I miss the few good memories I have
I miss my tree
I miss my dogs, though they're long gone
I miss the nightly routine
My mother getting me water before I slept
She might not have always been able to protect me
But every night she got me a glass
In the summertime, she'd even put ice in it
And I would feel like the luckiest little girl

I don't miss forcing food down my throat
Or getting high fevers as a way for my mind to cope
But I miss waking up in the middle of the night one night because of nightmares
And my dad seeing
And being okay that time

I slept in his bed that night
He didn't drink
He didn't smoke
He didn't break down or yell
He just hugged me for once
As tears poured down my cheeks
Suspicious of it but more grateful than I had words for

I miss that
I miss home
Please understand it
I know it was bad
Miserable
But it was the first thing I called me own
And it's where I became who I am in

You know it's really bad again
When all I can do
Is sit on my floor
Staring at sharp things I can't have
And putting a pencil between my teeth
Desperate

No one knew
I hid the monsters
Silenced my screams
Let myself completely die when they mowed the lawn most times
So they wouldn't think of me as a ****
And pushed some of my peices of the broken glass I am under rugs
And some I tape together
To show them
A smile
And be able to try and hold my voice steady
As I mumble
"I'm okay"

I had to be okay
I had to be strong
Because strong in this society means looking together
Pretending to be okay
Walking on your broken legs and trying to push the pain away
Not telling them everything
Becoming vulnerable

If I told them
What went on
It would be like giving them a hammer
As a glass they didn't like
And hoping that they wouldn't go mad
Hoping they wouldn't break me anymore than I was already broken
I couldn't take the risk
Anyhow
No one decided to call ******* on my vague, iffy lies
"Yeah, I'm okay"
"Oh, why did I have to run to the bathroom as soon as I heard someone yell? That's nothing, I have a small blatter, that's all"
They didn't care enough
It was easy to decide

But now
Now I have some people
Yes, they're people
Not trees or stars
That ask me
"Do you promise?"
Ones that check in once in a while
Asking me to write anything
Just to show that I'm alive
Because they want me to be
Truly
They listen
To broken glass
So I show them my monsters
And they listen hard enough to hear my silent screams
To pick me up, **** and all
And say
"What a beautiful flower"
And tell me
That's what I am

All they said was that they care
Something a lot of people hear a lot
But for me
Every time
I start to sob
Grateful tears
For once not ones of deep, unending pain
But ones as if to say
"Really? Wow, finally"

And they roll down my cheeks
In a different way
A way that seems peaceful
It reminds me of when
You're gazing up into the sky
Waiting for a cloud to move
To reveal something
Anything to make it better
Soothe the uncertainty and melancholy
The heartwrenching pain
And at last it does move
And the star behind it is more extraordinary than you'd imagined
And you can do nothing but watch it for a while
Marvel at it
Take a race around your mind
Trying to truly believe
That it really was indeed finally there after all this time
Beautiful

When they say they care
They care about ME
Of all people
Me
In all my brokenness
In all my strangeness
My intensity

They care
And that's just crazy to me
So I'll look at the text
Over and over
Making sure my mind didn't make it up

I'll replay the moment
Again and again
Confirming it actually happened
Remembering it is capable of happening to me
Happening to broken glass

And everytime I do
The tears start again
Grateful
And in absolute awe

It's crazy what words can do

The first question I ever ask anyone I'm trying to get to know
Is
"How do you feel about rain?"
And then
"If it starts pouring outside, will you take out your umbrella?"

Because their response to these questions
Can say a lot more about them
Then what their favorite food is
Or their favorite color

It's not even the words that they use to answer the question sometimes
But the tone of their voice
The excitement, or lack of
When they answer

Do they feel deeply?
When they love something, do they avoid it?
Are they with mother nature?
Do they dare to question what society has deemed unfit?
Are they upset when the sky gets angry?

In my old house
In my backyard
Is a tree
My tree

I used to go to it
Whenever I needed to
It was always there
Strong
Sturdy
Comforting
And I could always hug it
When I needed a hug
I could always speak to it
When I needed to talk
And it was always there
To make me feel less alone
It knew
I needed to hear a heartbeat next to me
One that I knew's blood wasn't pumping anger
Fear
But just beauty
Just peace
And so I would put my head to it
Feel it's bark in my forehead
The texture, so familiar
And hear the tree's heartbeat
My tree's heartbeat

No one else heard it
I made my friends try
The tree only let me hear it
It knew I needed it
I suppose

I crave to hear the beating once again
To feel the texture of the bark on my face
To sit by it and gaze up at the sky
But I can't anymore

Just the fact that it exists though
That I know it does
That I know that it's heart is still beating there
Just for me
That itself
Can relax me a little bit
Even if I can't go up and hug it

I'm a deep thinker
In school I am distracted
Questioning too much
Asking why it is that we're doing what we're doing
That we have to listen to what we are blindly listening to
But asking why there
Is considered arguing
So I become a "problem"

In the outside world,
I overthink everything
Wave to theoretical strangers in planes flying above
People are embarrassed to be seen next to me
"Why is that girl holding her head to a tree?"

In relationships,
I'm called intense
I speak too much of what I think
And I see the slightest change in the pattern of the way that they blink
I feel too deeply

In life,
I'm feeling too much too
I say it's just solitude
But it's more than that
I'm lonely
Because lonely means unseen
Not alone

At parties,
Everyone wants things to be light
They enjoy being asleep
But no matter how much I want join them sometimes
I was born with a mind always racing
Never stopping
Always asking
Always feeling
So so much
And I can see all the problems
They're everywhere from
Problems they see just as reality
But i can't tell them
If I don't want to be met with looks of displeasure and disgust
Silence,
And worst of them all
"Anywayssss"