please don’t hate me when I tell you
that I need attention
a lot of it
and I know you tell me that I’ve gotta believe you
that I’m yours and you’re mine
but you have to understand that these silences
are the times I got left behind in the cold
the greater the distance
the less they loved me
slowly they all faded away
and maybe you just don’t have a lot to say all the time
and you tell me I’m always on your mind
but I wasn’t on their minds
and while you’re eating dinner
and folding your laundry
and drinking your wine
and taking a bath
they were busy finding ways to erase me
—  I’m needy because I need to know you’re still here
When you left I decided to cut my hair because maybe I was pretending that every strand was a product of the seeds you planted in my head and I was determined to tear out of every “I love you” until my scalp started to bleed.
—  You Were A Piss Poor Gardener

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Let's Talk About The Kids We Don't Talk About

There are so many inspirational and uplifting videos, poems, art, etc. about the depressed kids who get no attention. We always talk about the kids who are ignored, the kids who try to get attention, etc. Well, what about the kids who do get attention, but still find themselves unhappy? What about the kids with a supportive family, friends, good grades, relationships, etc. who still find themselves sad? These kids tell themselves to get over it, too. These kids are filled with regret, too.

I happen to be one of these kids. I’m the kid who has friends. I’m the kid with a long lasting relationship. I’m the kid with a supportive family. I’m the kid who has several people crushing on them. I’m the kid with good grades. I’m the kid who is extremely privileged. However, I still find myself completely miserable. I have so many people asking me to hang out, yet I involuntarily make up excuses and stay in bed. I have so many people waiting for me at school, yet I still feel too sick to go every morning. I have so many supportive family members, yet I still have panic attacks over the holidays. I have always had good grades, yet I still find myself moping around about them. 

Don’t get me wrong, I have had a good share of hard times. My dad was never around and he eventually turned to drugs instead of me, I was bullied up until junior high, my step dad physically and verbally abused me, etc. However, if I think about it, my life is not that bad. It could be so much worse! I’m no longer bullied, I have plenty of friends, I have a great boyfriend, and my family is still here for me. I know people who have nothing and they’re still happier than me. I’m depressed, and I’m also on Tumblr. I naturally turn towards inspirational posts. However, all I seem to find are posts about the kids who are ignored. Then I’m just left wondering, “What the hell is wrong with me?” I’m filled with guilt and self hate. I’m filled with sadness and madness towards my ‘irrelevant’ depression.

So I’m making this post for the kids who have people, have money, have an easy going life, and they still feel like shit. This one’s for the kids who aren’t alone but still feel completely ignored. This one’s for the kids who don’t go to the parties they’re invited to because they feel alone in crowded rooms. This one’s for the kids with cute relationships who still don’t feel loved or cared about. This one’s for the kids who get told, “I love you,” daily but still feel chastised. This one’s for the kids who have so many people thinking they’re perfect but they still feel insecure. 

You are not over dramatic, your problems matter, and you deserve to be heard.

Your love left me bone dry,
On the floor of my parent’s living room,
Throwing up sob stories of Eskimo kisses
And the last time you said my name.
I was left skinless - raw -
The caves in my ribs ached
And the dips in between my fingers missed you.
You put me through hell and I still wanted you,
Because baby you have home on your lips,
And I need, I need.
—  Honey, You’re Home

Christmas Night of ‘62

The following is a poem by Confederate soldier William Gordon McCabe giving his thoughts on Christmas Night 1862.

The wintry blast goes wailing by,
the snow is falling overhead;
I hear the lonely sentry’s tread,
and distant watch-fires light the sky.

Dim forms go flitting through the gloom;
The soldiers cluster round the blaze
To talk of other Christmas days,
And softly speak of home and home

My saber swinging overhead,
gleams in the watch-fire’s fitful glow,
while fiercely drives the blinding snow,
and memory leads me to the dead.

My thoughts go wandering to and fro,
vibrating ‘twixt the Now and Then;
I see the low-browed home again,
the old hall wreathed in mistletoe.

And sweetly from the far off years
comes borne the laughter faint and low,
the voices of the Long Ago!
My eyes are wet with tender tears.

I feel again the mother kiss,
I see again the glad surprise
That lighted up the tranquil eyes
And brimmed them o’er with tears of bliss

As, rushing from the old hall-door,
She fondly clasped her wayward boy -
Her face all radiant with they joy
She felt to see him home once more.

My saber swinging on the bough
Gleams in the watch-fire’s fitful glow,
while fiercely drives the blinding snow
aslant upon my saddened brow.

Those cherished faces are all gone!
Asleep within the quiet graves
where lies the snow in drifting waves, -
And I am sitting here alone.

There’s not a comrade here tonight
but knows that loved ones far away
on bended knees this night will pray:
“God bring our darling from the fight.”

But there are none to wish me back,
for me no yearning prayers arise
the lips are mute and closed the eyes -
My home is in the bivouac.

It smells like you
Feels just like you
And oh,
I’m an aching mess
And every breath I take seems shorter
And I’m asking for more this time
I can taste you in my sleep
The walls unfold around me
And soon
I’m back in your bedroom
And nothing makes sense
But I wanna claw at you
And hiss
And bring you far deep inside my mind
I want to escape into another place
Without you
And hide below the mountain tops
That always scare me away these days
It’s all cluttered
And clouded and messy
It’s difficult for me to explain myself
Isn’t that obvious?
Tear away another page in my book
And continue to decipher what is missing
And what isn’t
It’s just a hollow cave
Or another disappointing Friday afternoon
I’m just here
And that’s all I’ll ever be.
—  12:45pm