Please forgive me, Star.
I seem to have spammed you with
Notifications.

"You think you can,
But you just can't, Nemo!"

You're right.
I can't. I can't do anything.
So goodbye, Dad.
I'm leaving. Forever.
I'll see you
Wherever fish go
When they die.

We have this fantastic flaw
Where we like to remind ourselves of every way we've ever failed

My friends are so perfect in looks it drives me mad
Why is he so much smarter than me in math? How does he not make
the stupid mistakes I do all the time?
How can she be so funny and hold such great conversations with him
when all I can do is laugh uncomfortably?
I wanted the solo, but no. My hair isn't long enough, I don't have the body lines,
I can practice but it will never be as good as what some are born with
My little rows of words will never ring with the same beauty as some here
That's supposed to be what I'm good at, and there she is doing it better
Procrastinating again? No self-control, spoiled girl, wasting time and space

It's hard not to hate with a list like that
But remember that someone somewhere is looking at you and thinking the same thing
That you are prettier, funnier, smarter, have a better laugh, a better heart
That you are more than they are
That they are the failure and you've reached perfect

You should listen to them
and to yourself
and then ignore them both

You don't need the validation anymore than you need a constant list of failures
running through your head

Of course it's not that simple to cover your ears from the inside but
You have to try

Live for authenticity
For happiness
You deserve more than the label of only failure or success.

Sometimes, distortion in an image can appear as light.

Especially if you're desperately looking for a bright spot somewhere.

At least the depression's made me prettier, I think.

Not having an appetite lost me the few pounds that always made the doctor shake his head.

I slide my hands across my stomach and waist.

It only took a month to lose that weight.

Prettier, I think, cringing at the sick swirl of happiness that follows.

There's got to be a bright spot somewhere.

And even if that light is false and isn't really there, I'll take it over nothing at all.

Reality can be whatever twisted, fractured place I want it to be.

Run faster, laugh louder
If you keep the carousel spinning,
They won't see the paint is chipping and that the pretty white horses are seconds from falling out of place.

Faster, faster

Until everything twirls apart into space

Faster, faster

To dust, to nothing, I will go

You've got to learn to love your part in life

Like the alto, always background to the soprano
must to come to love the harmony
There's a base to every pyramid
And maybe it's more fun to hit the high notes,
but in the end, the support is what matters most

Like Atlas and the sky
You can't just give up and
let the clouds crash into Earth below

even when the sky is crushing you
even when its weight is digging you into the ground

You have to learn to love your prisons
dying flesh, a cage for your mind
that box they've drawn around you in thick black marker lines
Not to be crossed out

I'm not saying don't try to break through
Coffins are suffocating, what wouldn't you do for one more gasp of air?

I'm just begging you to be careful
where you step, you don't have a choice other than to be smart with this

You can take an eraser to those lines until your fingers bleed,
but erasers won't do anything to marker
You move even an inch and the whole pyramid might come tumbling down
Even Atlas had to get someone to take his place before he could escape

You'll set off alarms and traps before you make it very far
The police will escort you back where you belong
So while you're planning your next attempt to get beyond the walls
you might as well decorate them
and buy a couch, a bed, a stove, make yourself at home

It's a backup plan for if you never make it out
an over the counter pain reliever that works a good fifty percent of the time

You have to learn to love where you are

even if it's choking you
*even if it makes you want to die

There's a first time for everything, I guess

My initiation to the cult of harm came last night
After I'd made sure everyone had gone to bed
Crept over by the window and moonlight
Placed my arm on the altar in front of me
Mechanically, efficiently swabbing it with alcohol
Scent sterile
For even in this, I will hold onto the pretense of a rationalist

I deride myself, tell myself I'm just going through with it because it's what people would expect from the depressed
That I could stop myself easily and so it's my fault if I don't
But god, I want to lose control so badly

The needle skitters across my skin and I shiver
It dances swirls along my arm
You don't need blood and scars for pain

It scrapes angrier against my skin
And a blissful silence pierces my head
As my own voice fades from between my ears

It's a trance-like happiness
A closed-eyed, fluttering-lashes smile
A beautiful pain throbbing, bringing me back to myself
I could have stayed up hours on that one taste of losing control
But this was just an initiation so I dragged myself away

There's not a trace the next day
Except in my mind where I hunt for all acceptable forms of pain
Push on your bruises, a friend advised
Pencil tips, pens

I stop myself
I resist
I said I wasn't going down this path

I'm on my own in August, I only have to make it to then
Then help, so no more of this

I wait until everyone falls asleep again
And though I am exhausted, stumble toward the moonlight
Sterilize, needle in hand, ready to dance

I refuse to go any farther, I tell myself

Death laughs from inside my head
Baby steps he snickers and
Isn't that what you said last time, doll?

There's a first time for everything after all

I won't,
I reassure the needle tracing kisses across my skin.
I'm fine.