My eyes have been looking
For weeks, months, years
For perfection –
Or at least perfection in their view.

They see me try my hardest
They see me throw away necessities
They see me fall.
They cry.

But my trials of heartache do not matter
For my efforts go unseen.
No changes –
Neither in my eyes nor in those of others.

I stare at the mirror and see eyes looking back at me –
Eyes that look like mine, but aren’t.
Eyes unrecognizable, but still, eyes.
Turquoise, cerulean, cobalt, even;
Bright, wide-eyed, and

                                         sad.

Beautiful but sad.
Sad because un-beautiful.

The eyes in the mirror are desperate;
Sighing, searching, waiting
For that one morning when they will see a change,
The change they’ve been waiting for, for oh so long.

The change that will bring all –
Happiness, love, success –
Everything my eyes see at night
When dreams become reality.

But right now, my eyes are blurry
Covered in tears
Overflowing
Because they do not like what they see.

There once was a girl, a very beautiful girl,
Who cried herself to sleep every night.
She didn't have much - friends, a boyfriend, the life.
And she didn't have happiness.

There once was a girl, a very beautiful girl,
Who cried herself to sleep every night.
She had it all - friends, a boyfriend, the life.
But she didn't have happiness.

There once was a school, where two sad little girls learned history and math,
Where two sad little girls ate lunch -
Or didn't.

There once was a bathroom, in some school somewhere in some town,
Where two little girls went every day around noon.
One went to cry, and one went to try
And empty herself of her mid-morning meal.

Every day they acknowledged each other's existence,
With a nod of a head or a brief meeting of the eye.
They understood each other's pain,
They knew each other's secrets,
But they said nothing.

They never wiped the other’s tears,
They both ignored the other’s gags,
No questions asked,
No words said.

But these two beautiful girls had a bond,
A bond they shared with many other beautiful little girls
All over the world.
Very few of these girls knew of the others.
They each thought that they were alone.
But they weren’t.

One day, the two beautiful girls,
The ones who went to that one school in that one town,
Decided that they each wanted to be happy.
They helped each other,
Supported each other,
Wiped each other’s tears.
They were not alone.

Soon enough, beautiful little girls all over the world
Began to find each other.
They started to help each other,
Support each other,
Wipe each other’s tears.
They no longer felt alone.

Eventually, the two beautiful girls,
The ones who went to that one school in that one town,
Stopped going to the bathroom after lunch.
Every day they acknowledged each other’s existence,
With a smile or a friendly hello.

There once were two girls, two very beautiful girls,
Who smiled
Everywhere.
Two little girls, who each had a new best friend -
And happiness.

when will it be my turn
to live without concern
i'm tired
exhausted of staring at the bright blue
lifeline
strung down my left arm

when will it begin
my smile natural
i’m tired
engaged in the depths of my mind
failures
are evident on my skin

it’s 1:29 am
it’s been 3 hours and still i’m unable to fall into slumber
i’m sitting straight up in my bed
quietly singing love songs to myself
thinking
about how alone i really am
not only tonight, but always
it’s not that i’m alone – i have friends and a caring family
but i’m lonely
and if you’re lonely,
you’re alone - always
no matter how many others surround you

sometimes i think i’d rather be like this
i like the isolation
the ability to get lost in thought
deep in the maze of my mind
it’s easier
transient relationships
fleeting memories
i can remember them - without forgetting the details
but still, i’m human
and i crave the intimacy
and love and lust and connection
of a life without pain.

the perfect photograph
taken with your vintage Nikon D-something-thousand
sharp lines and enlightening contrast
clear edges
exact focus
the sun rising in the horizon
cannot convey the way I feel
about you

i think about the hospital a lot
the crisp white sheets
the shiny piece of tin on the wall
the ***** trio of couches

these images are super glued to my eyes
it’s almost as if i wish i was still there
but that would mean, of course,
that i am still sick – or at least what they say sick is

the scent of hospital air lingers on my sweatshirt
you know, the one i wear everyday
the one that hides my imperfections
and my scars

my sweatshirt has been washed
smothered with detergent
but all i smell is the mental ward
the brain senses what the brain wants

maybe i want to be back there
with the others who, for those seven days, i considered my family
perhaps it’s because i felt safe
like it was okay to be the way i am

i want to be back there
in the isolation of a sad, protected world
either i’m getting sick again
or i was never cured

I gave blood today; I wanted to be a Good Samaritan, help those in need. My blood, after all, is healthy, pure. The thing is though, is that as I watched my life slowly ebb into the pint-sized plastic bag of rescue, I was imagining how lovely it would be for all of it to flow out, into a bag, into the bath, into the universe. To be empty, weightless, cold. As the blood pulsed out of my veins and my arm became weaker, I wished for my eyes to close and for my thoughts to slow down, for the discombobulate realm I call my life to slowly disappear or at least evolve into a breathtaking pasture of wispy freedom. Once my arm was emptied and the possible end was stopped, they told me - drink up, drink up, eat up, eat up - replenish the sugar and tiny hemoglobin cells that I so gracefully supplied. I took hold of the juice, and I took hold of the cookie, but once out of sight, I tossed them to the side. I wanted the feeling of faintness, dizziness, the insecurity of being caught in between two worlds. And as I sit here now with a muted mind and a slight headache, I am slightly pleased.