skin and bone

i’m back where i started.

i’m back to having meat on my bones

i’m back to hating home

i’m back to not being known by my own mother

i’m back to where i started

weighing myself every three days, yes exactly three

back to measuring how far the gap is between my finger and my thumb around my arm

back to being warm all the time

i’m back to where i started

except my collar bones are starting to show more

the gap is getting smaller

the number is getting lower

i am not where i started

i am where it starts to get bad again

i do not know when

but i know the cycle of my own demise

and soon enough i will be back to where i started

i will have gotten to where i have been

and then i will decline

and watch the cycle go on repeat for god knows how long

they say that the eyes are a window to the soul

i don’t disagree 

i just wish that they weren’t 

that every time i am about to cry they didn’t get glassy 

that the tears wouldn’t gather at my lashline

that the green in them wouldn’t turn into a dark brown

that when i am angry, they didn’t shine green 

that when i’m angry you wouldn’t be able to see the fire behind them 

that my hands didn’t shake while i looked you in the eyes in fear you could read mine

that when i’m happy, the sunflowers didn’t come out anymore

you said you loved the flowers in my eyes that grew from the water of my tears 

and that photosynthesized with the light your energy gave them 

i wish i could gain new eyes 

you told me you fell for my eyes first 

did you stop loving them first too 

was i just a meadow of sunflowers and love that you walked through when life got hard 

did life go back to normal when you left

did you ever think about the failing meadow you left behind 

did you ever want to come back to water the plants you left to die? 

it's been a year my love,

since i texted you,

pouring out apologies for what i did to you.

my love it has been a year since i relapsed

im 13 days clean,

what a crazy year it's been.

a year my love,

we've made it a year,

we started out as "i miss being friends" but im so glad we're here.

thank you my love for this incredible year.

i am so glad that i've gotten to know you again.

i am so glad that being broken led me to you.

sex appeal

i base my worth off of sex.

if people want to fuck me, then i am worth something

not if i do well in school

not if i have 3 significant others

but if those significant others want to fuck me

if people outside of our relationship want to

maybe it's the trauma

maybe it's that my mother is the same way

but if that's how i measure my worth

why do i get angry when im called a slut

i know i am a slut

yet i get angry at the word

when i am sent pics of morning wood

i feel special and worth something

when my ex wanted to fuck the first time i saw her

when a face time call turned into a cam session

when im told i could charge and make money off my body

im worth something.

10.

is the number of days until i had planned to die

9.

the amount of people who would be absolutely crushed if i said goodbye

8.

the number of open wounds on my body

7.

the amount of days i will be in the town i was born

6.

the amount of times ive wanted to die in the past 7 days

5.

the number of ways i know i could do it

4.

the amount of times ive tried to do it

3.

the amount of people who want me

2.

how many months it's been since i relapsed again

1.

the number of years since my last attempt

0. the amount of years i used to think i would have past 18

if i wake up tomorrow

the sun will not notice that i didn't want to

if i do not wake up before i turn eighteen,

the sun will not notice that i did not rise with her

if i go to sleep tonight

and i do not wake up in the morning

the sun may not notice

but the brightest parts of my life will

dawson will blame himself

i cannot let him lose another person in his life

ri will fall back into the groove of their depression

i cannot let that happen

tay will freeze into herself and try to fall back

i cannot let her feel like that alone

maybe one day i won't toss and turn every night

maybe one day i will have him with me

or them with me

or her with me

but one day

one day i will be okay and i will be fine

but even so

if i die tomorrow,

i will die happy

that moment when you feel yourself about to push everyone away so they don't have to see u like this

the sun will always find you, and it will get better

you write me poetry

you wrote me poetry then, too

back then it was

blunt i love yous

quiet i miss yous

but now

it's angry i love yous that fill me with hatred

it's loud i miss yous, written and read with anger

i am not the only one angry over the words you write

he is angry because he loves me and knows what you did

they are angry because they love me more than life

she is angry because she trusted you to do right

back then

seeing you lit me up

hearing your voice made me happier than ever

but now

seeing you utterly, and completely, terrifies me.

your voice makes me think back to the soft conversations in the dark

and quite frankly pisses me off.

now

i am doing okay.

(that's a lie)

i am doing better

(that's the truth)

i have so many people around me who love me for me

(not just one anymore)

but then?

i was not okay

(i told you i was)

i was not doing better

(i thought i was)

i only had you......

(that's a terrifying thought now)

i am not writing this for you

i am writing this because i don't know how to cope

i've lost all sense of who i am

and now, i can't cope

psa if you've ever told someone to go kill themselves, you are a legit piece of shit and i wish nothing but the worst for you.

the shit fucks w ppl.

too much.