You have no worries yet, they've only just begun.
I know you're scared, worried, anxious.
But I promise you'll be fine.
Yes its bad as they say
High schoolers do ****.
But they have to grow up one day.
Keep your chin up.
Don't be shy.
Stand tall, take pride.
Do an after school activity
Join a club, go to games
Make friends you'll spend life with.
Trust me, it pays.
Don't pretend to be something you aren't
Never stop learning
Do your work, but don't let it consume you.
Ask. For. Help.
They want you to pass.
I'm proud of you.
Don't do drugs, or alcohol.
Seniors don't want to be friends with you, and avoid dating people older than you in highschool.
Don't have ***. Trust me.
Study hard but don't over work.
You may have been cool, but no one likes someone that's rude and cool people are only cool in highschool. Better to be nice.
Money isn't a problem for now, get that job junior year.
Take advantage of extra credit.
Have fun with your first year.
Drama isn't cool or cute, stay out of it.
Don't bother with lockers, just keep a book bag.
Take notes.
Stay away from fights.
You won't be stuck forever.
People will make fun of you because your younger, but ignore them. They were young once too.
Write future you letters, they'll be cringe and funny to laugh at later :)
Most importantly, your grades do matter, but so does your mental health.
Its OK to take breaks and ask for help.
Stay safe freshies.

My mind tells me I deserve to bleed
That it’s okay that it hurts like hell
That it’s good that the blood won’t stop
Because the blood is mine
The blood is of the person who messed up in conversation
The blood is of the one who’s eyes are devastatingly like her father’s
Of the person who got to school 4 minutes late
And for the one who just sat there class while she knew that there was someone somewhere in pain
For the one who wasn’t there to help them

But my mind also asks me
If my blood is the same
as the three year old who’d play
with napkins and pens
Because creative and strange
Is far better
Than bored and average

My mind asks
If the skin that I tear open
Is the same skin
That the 7 year old’s tears poured down on
Because she was starting to understand
That her father’s behavior was not normal

And even though that ******* that is my head told me to my face
That I am unlovable
And that I deserve to bleed
It somehow had the nerve
To make me feel guilty for yet another thing

It told me I was hurting
the little girl who already
Was struggling

And it told me I was hurting
the grandma with grandkids on her lap
Of whom I’m threatening
Deprivation of snuggling

My mind said
That by doing that
I deserved to bleed and suffer even more

And as the pain starts
It asks me again
If it was just me that I’m hurting

I don't often tell the truth
About what's inside me head
Though I lacked the skill in youth
I wished I'd end up dead.

All the voices deep inside
Echo throughout my brain
If the truth were not to hide
You may call me insane.

I used to be a smiley girl, happy all the time
Then you came into my world, and sold it for a dime.

Now I lie about my feelings, my thoughts, and all my pain
Because I was taught that I should never
Say what's going on inside my brain.

My mind rushes to the beat of the fastest drum
Unfortunately I'm afraid of what I have become.

We don't know each other,
We have not seen each other.
Yet, we are bound together
by an invisible thread of emotions
in this world of words .

Together we stand ,
   with each other ,
    for each other.

“Are you okay?”

Sweetheart, I write poetry
And some kindhearted people said I write it well
…
That can only mean one thing
My mind is an unescapable hell

“Yeah, just tired”

No. Worse than that.
She loved you in every single one, just not ours.
She cared for me once in all my life when it benefitted her.
And cast you out when it was convenient to save you.
She loved us in all but one.
And we got the shortest straw...

I sometimes catch myself wondering
My thoughts an endless cycle
Self deprication
Sleep deprivation
Without mediation
I look at her and I feel nothing
My my body is at an odds
Begging to feel something
I swear to any and all gods
There is something wrong with me.
She looks at me and laughs
Saying how I look like I want to die
I laugh too
It isn't funny because its hilarious
Its funny because its true.
I don't smell of dead flowers
I smell of the rot I was raised in
All I am now
Is ruin.
I cannot muster the strength to look you in the eyes
To be tell you my lies
Bringing about my demise
My body is falling apart
Deteriorated
And you are angry.
You are upset at the world
Your future taken just as mine was
I have absolutely no idea
I am afraid.

i am not a poet,

nor am i a poem.

i am not a writer,

nor a book.

i am not a painter,

nor a painting.

i am not a sculptor,

nor a sculpture,

i  am not the artist,

nor the muse.

i am an idea,

that exists

only

in your imagination