when i was 13,
"if your friends jumped
off a cliff would you?"
was an effortless,
"no"
because when i was 13
the cliff was a tall,
intimidating
piece of land
with a neon sign that said
"impending doom"
lit up at the edge,
but now im 20
and the cliff
comes in glass bottles
and the cliff
comes in thick syringes
and the cliff
is drawn beneath
my skin
in india ink
and down below it,
i can see my home town
and i can hear the patient voices
of the kids i grew up with
that never got out,
shakily shouting
"come down here;
it's easier at the bottom"
and if im being honest
im stumbling toward it
with an alarming
lack of fear

March 27, 2013, 11:54 PM
-My jaw is aching from clenching my teeth
April 20, 2013, 1:03 AM
-He is perfect and i am drunk and he is perfect
June 11, 2013, 3:20 PM
-They tuck me in when I'm too ****** to feel the cold on my skin
July 8, 2013, 7:08 AM
-Don't forget he said "I wake up and I'm aching"
August 13, 2013, 1:07 AM
-**** I swore I'd never feel like this again. I swore I'd **** the butterflies before they landed.
September 16, 2013, 1:34 AM
-I miss home so much. I can't do it
October 18, 2013, 8:32 AM
-It doesn't scare me that I've forgotten how your voice sounds. It scares me that I don't care.
October 30, 2013, 3:32 AM
-What do you do when you're homesick but the home you crave so deeply doesn't exist anymore...?
January 25, 2014, 8:17 AM
-Five years is a long time. I miss you Kristyn.
February 17, 2014, 11:57 PM
-What if I could go back and save them
March 4, 2014, 9:49 PM
-Here you are inside my head again
March 9, 2014, 3:21 AM
-I hope I never forget the way biting my lip and swallowing a growing laughter made my chest ache, kind of like holding back tears
March 16, 2014, 12:50 AM
-I know Erick and I were drunk last night but I remember him saying, "wherever you end up is where you need to be" and I remember thinking that I'd do anything to believe him.
August 5, 2014, 4:04 PM
-I was standing on the ledge this whole time and I didn't even know it.

She was a heap
of tangled wires
on the floor of my bedroom;
I stayed up until four
in the morning
desperately trying
to pull her apart

She was a pile of sheets
all folded over herself
at the foot of my bed;
I stayed home all day
desperately trying
to unravel her

She was her sweatshirt
dripping crimson from
the sleeves,
She was the note she left
on my dresser,
She was the pills her doctor
prescribed her,
She was drawn curtains,
She was locked doors,
She was gone before I found her,
She was her diagnosis all along,
*She was never mine