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Putting my Mind up for your reading

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Your eyes spoke a language that no one knew, and your lips sang a song the colour of blue

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Do you ever hate your self so fucking much that you just want to break down and cry?

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Fuck you, I’m enough.

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He longed to know what happened inside the pretty girls mind. But she knew that was not a path we wanted to walk down. Her mind was like a burning cabin in the middle of the eery wood, Crumbling to ashes by the torch of her father, who’s mouth spit sparks, and anger felt like hot coal. The fire crackling in her ears, scorched memories lay in the embers. Like the cabin she burnt down anyone who got to close, so she lay, isolated in the flame. Little did she know this boy was an Icy storm, who wished to extinguish her burning past.

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Something I learnt fairly quickly being a sick kid, is that the universe has no care for whats fair, whats right or whats wrong. Where your breaking point is or tears you have cried. However the universe, though it cannot speak, has made it fairly clear it believes in balance. And though it may not feel this way at times, things do even out eventually. Another thing I learnt being a sick kid, Is that pain is growth, pain is becoming a newer you, for better or worse. Pain is a sculptor and you are his stone, it will break you into something beautiful. Something I learnt as a sick kid, it that its hard, but its going to work out.

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I am falling apart

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And so the nightmares and flashbacks continue. The smell of tobacco bringing me back to what I thought was love. I feel the need to speak to her, to tell her I’m sorry I didn’t report him, because I know if I did she would be ok. Does she blame me? Does she blame me the way I blame myself?

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You stand three feet a way from the door and BANG, that stinging smell of bleach. You know where you are instantly. Winding walls that have probably seen more dead than living. Cold eyes and worried faces, people waiting, waiting. Time seems to slow in a place like this. Straws buried in arms, at this point I can’t tell if they are putting something in or taking something out. *drip* *drip* a steady drip never failing a beat falls in the pool of the clear chamber below the bag. Mumbled voices, some concerned, some confused, just a plethora of emotions really. Through the halls keeping your head down to not see the next victim of life in their room. The girl with the J tube slithering out of her nose, praying to god this time it stays down longer. The boy struggling for breath with a mask over his face trying its best to keep him going, as his parents converse with doctors and nurses, they all seem at a loss. Head down, Head down I say to myself! The next room has an elderly man looking like the wilted flowers that drape beside his bed, he seems at peace though. A stranger walks in, he looks fed up, his hands as cold as his personality. Icey hands examine me, taking my breath away at first touch, the air in this room is dead, much like the conversation. *breathe in* *breathe out* I just want out of here *breathe in* *breathe out* just tell me what’s wrong. *prick* I look down to see a hot reddish-navy liquid flowing into a tube. It’s labelled and gone just like that, and I’m sent on my way. I pass through the halls and nothing has changed, they are all still there, but I get to leave, I guess you could say I got lucky this time.

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I’m doing it, I’m reporting him. And I’m fortunate enough to have someone by my side doing the same thing. And even more so that he confessed. I’m saddened others don’t have that chance, the chance to be believed. This could still fall through for me but.. just know I believe you, and that it wasn’t your fault, all of your feelings are valid and there is a whole community who supports you. Although, I shouldn’t have to be thankful that someone else is reporting it, there shouldn’t be anything to report. I shouldn’t be thankful he confessed, he shouldn’t have done it. But he did, because that’s the world we live in, and I’m going to do everything in my power to change that, even if it’s just stopping him from doing it again.

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When the moon rises my troubles come out to play. Bouncing around my brain and reminding me of how messed up I am. So I lie on my bed hoping I’ll fall asleep, fly to never land and never wake up.

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I haven’t been writing because truthfully there has been to much. To many emotions that I did not know how to put into words. I don’t believe there are any existing words to describe the ache I felt, and still feel in my heart. But there isn’t just one reason, I mean there never is. In fact I could probably wright you a list so long it could be used as a ladder to the moon. But instead, I tuck my feelings into my pocket and stitch my mouth shut. For I should not be the reason a human feels sympathy.

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Honestly one of the worst few days of my life.

He did it again, he hurt someone else. And I could have prevented it by reporting him, and I didn’t. When I found out I was screaming, I couldn’t breathe I couldn’t move. It hurt so much knowing that someone else is feeling the way I feel, because of me.

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Everyone has left

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It’s getting bad again

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Fucking relapsing.. time to start hiding my wrists and my food.

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Not one of them has texted me, seeing if I’m ok, they all know full well I’m not doing great. But none of them give a shit. Yet if I killed myself tonight suddenly I was they’re best friend and we spoke everyday and they knew everything about me? No. You don’t have the fucking right to be upset, you abandoned me. It’s not your fault I’m dead, but you don’t get to act like you gave a shit.

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Just another sleepless night soaked in bad memories illuminated by the lonely moon.

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