i walk down the hallways,
i don't want to be here anymore

life is pointless,
i don't want to be alive

i tell my friends how i'm feeling,
they are concerned,
but i didn't want them to be

i walk away,
i don't want help
my friends say its the only way out.
but to me, suicide is the only way

they go and get me help anyways,
in there minds it was what's best
they tell the people what i told them,
they were worried

i hid my face behind my hair
i was going to hurt myself,
i was scared
i was going to commit suicide

two hours later,
i get called down to guidance,
i was honest,
my honesty saved me

from there,
the doctors,
from there the hospital

i waited,
i slept,
i watched tv,
i cried,
i did nothing

and finally, i met with a doctor
once again,
i was honest

my diagnosis:
clinical depression and anxiety

It's on them nights I drink alone. Find myself thinking of home. These beers bottle bones empty and shatter. Liquor lung sigh. Chest heavy like a white trash wind chime. Like a six pack of bud ice hanging from some fishing line. Hear them low notes bouncing of the lips in the wind. And maybe you worry, but ****, I'm fine to drive. And on those days when my gut isn't a gas tank for beer refilling at a pity party pit stop, I drive on love. Write love poems on phones before the ***** knocks me out. And sure, maybe my love makes as much sense as the words I slurr. And maybe my love is as unique as the crackheads needle in the haystack, but I'll still love you serious as a heart attack. Like a stroke... of genius... an epiphany about the realness of God. That maybe the story is flawed, but you're welcome to believe. And maybe I'm drunk right now, but I never meant to deceive. So kiss me with your break lights, while a pray to the slow light that I can live life like an old man feeding birds on a bench in the park. Got nothing else on his mind... just love... you maybe. And whatever you might think. I promise. I'm fine to drive

the real question is
whether or not i will make you immortal*
as i press my lips to the curve
of your cheek on the page,
feel your fingers gently grasp
around my wrist in a light grip
and sigh.
because this is such a slow moment
in time, stretched out along
the length of my bed
in the soft darkness of the night,
my body wrapped tightly in yours
as the two of us drift off
into sleep.
i do not know any other way
to love people,
but to write the lines
of your body clear across the page,
slowly claw the desire
of what you do to me
along the edge of my skin
as i shudder,
shiver and then collapse forward
into the memory of your arms.
and in doing so, i used to wonder
what you
and other people think of this,
because i will not regret it
in the end,
for this moment existed once
in this type of love,
carved out against the thudding
beat of my heart
as i slowly try to climb
into you, elicit
a smile and a laugh, trace
my fingers through your beard
and eventually fall asleep with
my head on your shoulder
and your arm around my waist.
for we'll exist,
immortal,
as love letters on this page together
long, long after these moments
are over.

Things aren't like they used to be any more.  Granted I'm a lot happier where I am now, but it’s like my feelings have bi polar disorder. It’s almost exactly like I'm riding a roller coaster every day.
II still have bad days, but so does everyone else. What makes me so special?
I just wanted you to realize that if my feelings had meant a little more to you maybe it wouldn't feel like you were playing around with my feelings. Almost like it was some kind of game for you.
You always had to be the one to win, it always seemed like you had to knock me down to make yourself feel better. I was tired of getting this kind of treatment from my family.
Instead of sticking around to watch myself fall, I decided to stand, Stand up for myself. I was no longer a victim of yours. I made a choice for myself, and even though you didn't seem to agree with me, I didn't care. I wasn't going to have you control MY life.
I was tired of trying to make you see that I was much more than what you could only see on the outside. I wasn't some fat girl you could make fun of, and even though I had a little bit more body mass than you, I could still find beauty in myself, despite what you told me.
This was all a joke. And you say I'm the bad guy. Why don’t you open your eyes? Maybe if you had stopped to smell the roses you may have seen the beauty in life; the beauty that already exists.
There is beauty in everything, and everybody. Just not everyone can see it. And that’s sad, because everybody deserves to be noticed.

My darlings pull your sleeves down
No one has to know
With all the pain you’ve gone through
Your scars don’t have to show
With cuts and scratches and tears
You death is nearly here
Blood stained towels cover the floor
Everyone’s hoping you’ll walk out the door
Throw up honey you’re to fat
Blame your cuts on the cat
Sliding a blade across your skin
Getting sick to be thin