No.1 I have a fear of heights and I'm okay with that because I fall for you every day which keeps me close enough to the ground that I feel safe.

No.2 The dark. I do not like the inability to see, imagine being trapped in a space with no light, nothing to reach for but just a void of emptiness. You cannot find a place much darker than a blackened, hallowed heart. There are no signs of life, with no trace of light. Yet you still managed to find your way around it, walking aimlessly as if you knew where to go. I was afraid of the darkness within, until you lit a flame inside Of me, trying to send a signal fire to my sanity.

No.3 spiders, nothing poetic I just think they are creepy. Eight legs of hell and they have no need on my life!

No.4 I imagine being on an island stranded alone knowing no-one could find me, while I sit there huddle next to a tree with no reason to move forward. I feel a warm touch press on my shoulder. I open my eyes, everything seems different the white scattered sand is now my bed. waves which held me back from moving forward, now my blanket which seems to feel heavier than a tsunami of depression and deep thoughts. I lay there stuck being buried by the sand and drown by waves. Being held down by my past and worries of my future. two hands lifted all the weight off me, I looked up and there she was, she grabbed me by the...

No.5 my heart is beating faster and faster as I run an endless marathon. My palms get sweaty, it gets harder to breathe as if I was trapped in space with no air tank. I try to push through I will not let myself drop out of this one so early. I have a fear to love, not of love but to love. I want to find it but I'm too afraid of letting myself become vulnerable as if I'm joining a war with no gun just my heart hoping not to get shot down but be accepted with open arms. I have scars and battle wounds from past wars. But for no reason, you lent a hand to patch me up. You showed me not all wars are worth fighting Alone, so we joined hands and walked strong. I am afraid to love, I am not afraid to say I love. I am afraid to say I love anyone who isn't you.

dear grandma,

i could not fit into my jeans, yesterday. the new ones with a rip in the knee and stiching on the pocket. it's been a year and my waist has grown another inch and grandma, i got scared. i got so scared i broke one of my rules and looked at the old photographs. yes, the ones i promised i wouldn't look at but grandma, listen to me. i was a wisp of a person. my frame was like a fading memory, the kind that you know won't hold on for long before it falls away. i saw a picture of myself like that. and grandma, i cried. but not because it was sad. i cried because i want to be that fading memory of a person again. hell, i cried because i was prettier, then. i cried because i am not hungry anymore. i cried because my cheeks are full and my thighs graze when i walk. grandma, i cried because i lost the only part of me that i loved.

Like Sunflowers, your presence is bright and warm.
Like Sunflowers, your love is soothing and sweet.
Like Sunflowers, your embrace is home.

Sunflowers are nice for me
because I love bright yellow things

       But.

The center of a sunflower is always dark.
The deeper you go
the darkness will grow

And when you'll reach the dead center


             oh you will know.

Self harm starts as one small cut. One blade you found in your brothers drawer. You heard him say one time that it makes him feel better. You hurt and you don’t know why. You take the blade to your skin for the first time you press down and pull it across your skin. You are hooked. It bleeds and it fascinates you. You wipe the blood away with some toilet paper and put a bandaid on it. You hide the blade under the bucket in the cabinet and move on with your day. You can’t stop thinking about it. You go back later and do one, two, three more cuts. You create a routine. You go back day after day. Multiple times a day. You tell yourself you can stop anytime until you realize you can’t. You look down at your thighs one day to do a few more cuts. You realize there is no more space. You move to your stomach. Then to your calves. Then your wrist. You look at your body in the mirror one day and see it is covered with blood, scabs, and scars. You disgust yourself. You can’t stand to look at yourself. One day your mom sees a scar or a cut that pokes out the top of your sleeve. She tells you that you are destroying yourself. She tells your dad and he yells a you says that you are an attention seeker. You believe it You believe all the horrible things people say about you. You see more and more flaws that you can’t stand. Its too much. It is all too much. Its too much. You go to the hall closet. You find the bottle that says minipress. You grab it shut the door and walk into the bathroom. You open the bottle and pour it’s content out into your hand. There are about twenty four pills. You put them on the counter, lining them up one by one. You find yourself picking them up one by one and placing them in your mouth. You pick up the last one and swallow it. It hits you. You realize what you have done. You lay on the ground and wait to fall asleep. You wake up in a strange rubber bed covered in scratchy sheets. You open your eyes and look around there are three strangers and your mom in the room. You are in a hospital. You survived but you realize you didn't want to wake up.

I don’t understand why suicide is a bad word, it happens daily.
I don’t understand why a suicide would be one persons fault, it never is.
I don’t understand why people say they didn’t do enough, you did everything you could.
I don’t understand why people think they can fix it with a hug and a kiss, it’s a lifelong battle.
I don’t understand why people think cutting is a suicide attempt, it’s an unhealthy way to stay alive.
I don’t understand why people think wanting to die is cool or funny, it’s not.
I don’t understand why people feel the need to stare, it’s just a bandaid.
I don’t understand why they take your blades, it only causes you to search for more.
I don’t understand why people get desensitized to it after awhile, it invalidates your pain.
I don’t understand why it’s attention seeking, we always hide it.
I don’t understand why I stay at the hospitals for days, it never helps.
I don’t understand why I have to keep going, there is no,













point.