It is hard being the outsider. It is hard for me to stand behind the glass. Watching all of my friends moving on without me, being happy, and having fun and I am here stuck watching from a distance. I hate that I have purposefully let go of people I love and care about because it hurts too much to be so far away from them. I hate that the hurt was too much to deal with. I try not to think about it so much anymore, but it sneaks back in my train of thought every now and again. I miss some of them. I try not to, but I do. Just because I have let them go doesn’t mean that I don’t care. On the contrary, I care a lot. I care so much that not being able to actively participate in their life has pulled me away. I feel like they deserve friends who can be there. I seclude myself in hopes not to hurt myself or any other person. I may have done just the opposite. But I can’t change things, I can’t perform magic tricks or miracles. I don’t have a private jet, and I certainly don’t have a set of wings to lift me up and get me there to apologize. What is there to do. I try to reach out and pull my hand back before they notice. I guess the fear that my hand will be rejected if they did see it weighs me down. But maybe I worry too much over nothing. I don’t see anything on the other side saying they feel the same as I do. I don’t see a hand reaching out for me. I haven’t seen a spot of effort on their behalf trying to get ahold of me. Maybe I am just blind, or maybe I see things clearer than the glass I hide behind. I miss things, and people, and conversations. I miss the pictures and the memories, and the texts. I miss getting out and actually seeing people smile in person and not through a facebook post. Part of me just wants to be on the receiving end of everything. I put myself here for a reason, but even I don’t truly know that reason anymore. The glass has fogged over from getting to close. My visions have blurred and my words are muffled. I stand here and the only thing I see these days is a rugged reflection of myself beyond the smoke and mirrors. I no longer see things for what they are. I suppose maybe I am jaded, fading into a vaste array of self pity and loathing. Maybe I am meant to remain on the outside. Perhaps this is as close as I can get. I wipe away my thoughts and wants and wishes with every wipe of the glass. I guess I will pull up a chair, I am going to be here for awhile anyways. Staring, wondering, just how it feels to be on the inside.
No inspiration
Lately I haven’t been angry, or happy, or sad. I have just been. I am here, existing in a dull little bubble right now. I find no inspirations, no words fit to put on a page. I have no idea when I will be back to writing anything worth reading, but hopefully its not forever. Thank you for sticking with me for this long. 
Again…
I am losing grip again starting to slip again I trip over my words over and under under and over my thoughts flow like water through a sieve drip drip drip I am but a blip in the radar just a ship amongst the sea and I am losing grip again starting to slip again beginning to tear again to rip apart my seams nothing is as it seems my lips say nothing until I am stripped of everything
Remember Forever
That Christmas was one I will remember forever. Santa didn’t leave anything under my tree. We didn’t sing carols with our loved ones. I didn’t enjoy the wonderful Christmas feast before me, and there was no figgy pudding. I wasn’t alone, but I felt like I was. I felt an overwhelming darkness seeping into my skin. My own hell was warm enough to melt the freshly fallen snow. I tried to be festive. I put on my mask, the one with the plastic smile. I oozed fake joy and happiness, it filled the room. I was burning on the inside, but I stayed cool as ice. My thoughts held my tongue still.
Not a single damning word left my lips until I felt safe. Until I was somewhere I knew I wouldn’t be judged. With the car pulled over so I could let my words flow free, on the side of the road. I could have been in a room with ten thousand people and I would have been alone. I cried out in pain as my tears broke free. I thanked him for being there, for holding me, for letting my irrationalities take hold of both of us momentarily. He knew me well. If he hadn’t been there, if he hadn’t understood me, I’d have been a broken mess.
Holidays never sat well with me. I never understood them, and they never understood me. I had contemplated many a time about my departure. That Christmas was no different. He knew. I was the type that felt like I had nothing to live for, that wanted to cut out early. He knew that that day was worse than every other. He held me, reassured me it was ok. It turned out I was going to be after all. So he held me and I slept. Soundly, safely.
Christmas was over and I was still there. I had made it through the darkness in my head. Safe and sound. My own Christmas miracle perhaps. My phone rang and I answered it. My world cracked. In the midst of my own depression I forgot about my mother. I thought she was ok, she seemed fine three days before. But I suppose I seemed fine to her as well. The disbelief of the news dropped me to the floor. Drowning in my own tears, I called out for her. She was gone. Those same demons poking fun of me the day before had been poking fun at my mother as well. I should have known. We were more alike than I knew. Similar in feelings, and thoughts. My demons had been beaten, but that day she lost her battle.
She lost and I lost, we all lost to her demons. I couldn’t save her, I couldn’t even save me. It hurt. It still hurts. Pieces of me died with her. They lie beside her, in her box made out of wood. I oft wonder if they have rotted away as she does. I try and hold on to her smile in my heart. Sometimes it’s hard. Other times I think she reminds me. There are many things I have forgotten in my few years that I wish I could have held onto longer. The good memories are scarce. But the memory of that Christmas is strong. It is bittersweet. I won and lost all at once. Part of me died that day, but the rest lives on. She lives on, metaphorically. Forever is such a long time, and I still have so many years left to go, but I will never forget. I will never forget those feelings, the demons, the fight. The win, the loss, the life I still have.
That Christmas was the one I will remember forever. I must never forget…
Dedicated to my mother whose demons proved to be too much for her. She lives in my heart, and I miss her.
I Am A Statistic
- An estimated 60 percent of teen girls’ first pregnancies are preceded by experiences of molestation, rape, or attempted rape. In one study, between 30 and 44 percent of teen mothers were victims of rape or attempted rape. Up to 20 percent of girls become pregnant as the direct result of rape. Source
- In the United States, one of every ten births involves a teen mother. Source
- The children of addicts are 8 times more likely to develop an addiction. Source
- Losing a parent to suicide makes children more likely to die by suicide themselves and increases their risk of developing a range of major psychiatric disorders, according to a study led by Johns Hopkins Children’s Center that is believed to be the largest one to date on the subject. Source
- On average, a woman will leave an abusive relationship seven times before she leaves for good. Source
I am a statistic.
I can be categorized.
These things have made me what I am.
Today…
I am broken,
Shattered even.
I am missing pieces of myself.
I have lost control a time or two,
Maybe more times than that.
I have pushed away anything
Everything
That looked promising
That was good for me.
Out of fear,
Out of love.
I have been consumed
By my demons.
I have given up
More times than I can count.
I have Lied,
Cried,
Tried to move further down the road.
Sabotaged myself
Over and over again.
Picked myself up
After falling.
Dried myself off
After drowning.
Took a new breath
After suffocating myself.
I am a statistic.
My chances of making it past my past were slim.
Memories of it still haunt me.
Taunt me.
Fuck with my head.
BUT…
I am resilient.
I am stronger than I thought I was.
I am still here,
When statistics said I could’ve been dead.
I still live.
I still try to love.
I am holding onto hope
And wishes that may never come true.
I will still wish
And hope
And dream.
If dreaming is all that I have.
I am still lost,
But I am searching.
And someday,
When I find the right path,
I will find my way.
I am a statistic,
That made it to see another day…
The Tide
I watch the tide rise
and I watch the tide fall
burying the past
pulling under
everything
That I have ever had
Drowning
in the ocean
buried in the sea
of memories
and lost chances
smoothing stones
as I tumble
underneath
the surface
down
where no one can see
drowning
in the ocean
buried under the sea
I dig myself a grave
of dirt
and muck
and sand
of all the things beneath
you’d never hold inside your hand
digging holes inside the ocean
buried deep within the sea
waves shall come
and waves will go
push and pull my heart
no longer does it flow
into the ocean
there is nothing left of me
Shhh…
I am my biggest secret
you will never know who I am
You will never hold all the answers
within the palm of your broken hand
broken smiles on fake ass faces
like the one I used to show
the face of all those people
that I thought I used to know
truths you could never fathom
lies you’ve always feared were true
stories I sold as memories
ones I never really knew
Hiding inside the shadows
trusting the light to never show
but in the darkness
my lies will only grow
Go ahead and try
figure me out, you will not
because everything I am
is everything that I’ve got
And…
I am my biggest secret
You can never know who I am
none of my broken answers
will fit perfectly in your hands
