a chaotic mind

April 2013;
Only fourteen, yet the idea of death
is keen. I have imagined my grave so
many times that I am not afraid to lay
in its confines. I think of death
as a breath, a test, a place where
my fear, a spear, cannot reach me.

The world isn't bad, and is, in fact,
quite rad. I would love to be adored,
to learn a lover's snore, to walk
in the park and feel the starch
within the air. I would love to
brush my child's hair and say,
"I love you, babe."
I would like a reason
to stay.

But my life is a line with
a weak spine and a silent cry.
Each breath a test that goes
through breasts and what I'm
trying to say is
I will not rest until
this body is ashes.
I'm tired of the painful thrashes.

January 14, 2013, 1:34 A.M. I forget things a lot. Time is unimaginable. Days blend incredibly well. Today could be Tuesday, or Saturday, or maybe even jeudi! I've no clue anymore. It's a blend. It's robotic.

- What am I to do today?
I forget.

- Go through the list.
What's the list? Where's the list?

- You lost it.
Yeah, I did. Shit, I'm sorry.

- I know, love. You always are.

April, 2013;
A table, a shelf, water,
water, a table, a strong set of arms
holding up the skies, holding our eyes
attempting to hide what we despise

Do trees grow, or
are they built for us?
Are skyscrapers built, or does
an extra floor grow every time we sin?

Trying to do the right thing,
but going left twice, thrice, and
still not moving in the right direction
Two lefts may make a right, but
two lefts also act as a time machine
As such, it makes you less you,
me less me. Wouldn't you agree?

Middle of the night, January 17, 2013. Found my blade. Been cutting. Feel like shit. Suicidal. I'm suicidal. I need help. I mean it. I see myself doing it all the time. Running out, in front of a car. Slicing my veins open. Hesitation when I take medicine. Three twelve hour midols a day is the limit, and there are ten pills in the box. Three times the daily limit, and then another for good measure. Would that kill me?

How about twenty-seven ibuprofen? I lined them up on my desk last night. It seemed like a beautiful chance. I didn't like the date, and I was tired, so I went to bed instead. It seems funny now.

4.18.13
Everyone I know
is sad. I try to
pretend, sometimes, that
I'm a character in a book.
That we all are. If I blink,
I think, one of these days--I'll wake up.
Stop being stuck. Stop being out of luck. The
wind in my hair, it makes me aware;
I'm not all there.
I just don't care.

January 14, 2013, 1:34 A.M. Sometimes, I love everything as is. Most days, I feel like tearing everything apart and forgetting my own name, and also destroying myself in an attempt to get better. Does that make sense?

Loving myself seems impossible. Everyone leaves. I am a rest stop. Broken down, shitty, but essential. I will fix you up when you are broken down. I will never fix myself up, however. Still nice, though. I am a temporary home on a long journey.

I love you. Could you love me a little longer?

No. You are a swift journey, and you are forgetting me. I can feel it. If I say bye, then you will never say you missed the chance.

Bye. I love you.

2012; The tips of his fingers;
those hands, those palms.
I love him, and I'm bound set
on tearing down his walls.

January 26, 2013, 1:10 A.M. Oh my God. so, it was going very good--I played Minecraft for three hours. I was laughing playing smiling happy. Then I got off and started feeling awful and then very bad and my thoughts went crazy

and DO IT STOP BEING SAD STOP BEING DISTANT STOP

and i'msorryi'mscaredpleasedon'tdoanythingweloveyou
tomorrowwe'llseeanotherskyanotherfloweranewperson

who won? who always win?

I didn't do the plan. I only cut, but I was vicious about it and my blood didn't rise instantly, and my skin was torn and I could see what I'm composed of.

I'm gonna throw up.
I hate this.

2012;
You want to give up?
Too late, there is no giving up
There is no escape
It's summer
You sleep through your days
and never eat until you're full

Jan 26, 2013, past 5 A.M. and before 6 A.M.
The feeling is always there. Sometimes, I just choose to forget it. If I don't get help soon...

2012;
The blood is descending from the waterfall
the countryside is bruised
Fire set to the buildings
Fire set to you

February 9, 2013, 11:58 p.m. - Bert, the ambulance guy. He had a dog and four kids. He thought I was really smart and collected. He stood close to me and wished me good luck when they were checking me into the hospital. You can tell how fatherly he was. I think he had at least three daughters. He was so nice.

2012;
You okay?
- I'm super tired.

Nothing worse? You sure?
- Well, yeah, but...

Anything I can do right now? Draw you a bear in a tutu?
- A what?

A bear in a tutu or something.
- Okay.

I'll murder you in your sleep.
- And also in a tutu?

February 17, 2013, 3:59 A.M. dear god it's scary when your thoughts are racing hands are shaking and you can't or won't or what's the difference

I'm losing it I really am I don't want to be sad. I went to the hospital so I wouldn't be sad like this anymore so I wouldn't want to do it but I do, I want to do it so badly because hate myself, hate my life, and this world is so terrible and yet beautiful and wonderful at the same time

there will always be words like vicissitudes and wisp and tufts and I want to clutch them close and not lose it but here we are

August 2012;
In the way
you see the
stars, I see my
whole life.

With lips that move
and say no words,
with eyes that see
yet never really
understand,

we are all
MONSTERS.

2012;
Don't fear!
Your nightmares are here!

Unmarked. Between Dec. 24th, 2012, 1:57 A.M. and January 1st, 2013, 12:28 A.M. Keeper... If I kill myself, please do not be mad. It hurts so much, all the time.

Dec. 21st, 1 A.M., 2012;

It aches so bad tonight

in a way that

I won't let out

'cause if I saw blood now

I've a feeling I wouldn't
stop until

until

my mattress is breathing
your words are my poison

what a heavy dose

what the hell
do I believe in?

Dec. 19, 2012, some:time

... because there's always this aching...
I'm so sad.

This doesn't look like a possibility;
it looks like an outcome.

Unmarked, between Feb. 18, 2013, 3:30 A.M. and Feb. 26, 2013, 9:56 P.M. Just doesn't matter. I could tell you of loneliness, of sadness, of being crazy. I just don't have the will, or the motivation.

Sometimes I hope for a significant change. I want to start over. I can't.

I wish I wasn't crying.

(crossed out words) sorry