Fuck you

I can't help it, I can't help how I feel. I can't help that I don't want to try.

Take away my hope and fuck you I can't move forward now, there's nothing to move forward too,

Yes I'm pathetic,

I'm hurt, fuck you, there is no light in the dark.

I am so afraid of this.


You are moving in today, because I cant leave you out in the cold. Fatal flaw in my personality? Maybe. I save everyone and maybe I don't have time or energy to save myself.

a curse, a blessing, a curse, a blessing

this is not what i want


I used to be so attached to someone that after awhile I didn't know where I ended and he began, moving in with him was how that started.


But you are lost, and I have a home, and what if it was me? WHAT IF IT WAS ME? and my moms so gungho on it, I cant bear to take it away from her, and how selfish would that be?


But I don't want to lose myself again, my safety and own personal space are always being taken and I wonder if that is no ones fault but my own. I over extend myself to others and yet at the same time expect to have a place I call home, I have learned these things cant co-exist. HOW DO YOU HAVE A HOME, WHEN YOU ALWAYS GIVE IT AWAY TO PEOPLE THAT HURT YOU?

I share myself too much, share my safety, share my insides
blood splashing on my car window, every fucking time

I don't want this to happen again, and now by giving you my personal space, I am in danger of that.

Where do I begin to start saving myself, instead of everyone else?
why does it feel like I'm saving myself, when I'm saving everyone else?

I CANT LEAVE SOMEONE WITH NO HOME, SOMEONE I CARE ABOUT,SOMEONE THAT I'M SUPPOSED TO PROTECT, A HUMAN FUCKING BEING.

But is this good for me?
Does it matter that its probably not good for me?



the trade-off, the trade-off, the trade-off.

I took a deep breath


"my baby? Her name was hope."

Easier

Maybe it's easier to focus on someone else's story because that makes yours easier.

Makes you forget,

Makes you feel like you don't have to change your own.

Makes you feel like you aren't responsible for how bad things ended up.

Free

Not anymore, no more tears, no more.

3 days later and I am

Finally free, can breathe.

YOU ARE DESERVING OF LOVE. THE DARKNESS HAS NO ANSWERS.

I FEEL LIKE IM STUCK HERE STANDING STILL






I have to pull out of this one soon.

i've been selfish looking out for no one but me,

and im tired of feeling bad okaY? id rather feel nothing.


i am tired of the things that ive lost,
the water and the deep and all of that,




fuck people that can get past that,
fuck people that can bury it


hope has been carved out of my gut,

i am yearning to be punished,
eeven half of the way im punishing myself inside,


i want someone to tear up my skin,
so at least that would compare to how bad i feel inside,

i want a deep ending,
proof somewhere that this is what has happened
and this is how bad i hurt
and this is what i fucking deserve


i want someone to rip my skin from my body.



I WANR THIS TO MATTER

I WANT THIS TO MEAN SOMETHING


THIS HAS PROVEN
ONCE AGAIN
I AM NOT GOOD ENOUGH
NO MATER WHAT I DO




nail marks on mr arm arent even good enough

there is something I need to say,


i walked down the path, of heat and lillies, and i was giving up on myself.

I walked down the path listening to this music of sadness and weight.

I stopped at the end and saw all the bugs flying and the water and i thought about how God could make such a beautiful thing outside when all i felt was terror and ugliness inside.

I held my phone in my hand and i looked down at it and i read the message from her,
a soul with depth and weight, a soul with pain and tragedy trying to hold on,

and i read it and i felt it deep inside, someone that made me feel not so alone, someone that made me feel like i could keep going and it would be okay because i wasnt the only one in the world feeling this way.

I cried deep tears but not because of the sadness but because of the compassion,

because she was something that God gave me inspite of all the terror and tragedy,


you think that hope is everything external: things, places, when really it can be as simple as someone on the other end of the line.


she was hope,

in a time of no hope.


YOU MAKE ME FEEL BEAUTY, HONESTY, EVERYTHING THATS IN MYSELF, EVERY SINGLE ASPECT OF GOOD. YOU ARE EVERY SINGLE ASPECT OF GOODNESS, HONOR, AND BEAUTY

I felt like I had one last shred of hope left.

I wonder why God dangles something in your face, only to take it away.

FUCK YOU I DON'T CARE IF I BLAME HIM.
HE COULD FIX THIS.
FUCK YOU I DON"T CARE IF ITS HIS PLAN.


I have moved out of sober living in to my parents because I was going to school in 2 months and moving there. I was going to feel young again, I had something to hold on too. I was going somewhere. I was going to feel new again. I was going to feel alive again. I was going to feel as if I had a purpose, I was excited. I was stoked, I valued it. I was going to learn and I was going to teach and I was going to meet new people. I was going to finish what I started 3 years ago, I was not going to give it away again. I was leaving my old life behind, I was starting a new one. I was not going to be stuck in my dead end job, I was looking forward.

I called my school yesterday, I don't have good credit, my parents can't help with money, I have no Cosigner. I cant get any loans to go.

Everything was planned,
and now its all changed,
and i have nothing going on anymore,

I'm giving up,


fuck you God if your just going to take it away.


I have no hope.


SO I ASK YOU
WHATS THE FUCKING POINT ANYMORE.

Is this enough for you?

IS THIS ENOUGH FOR YOU?



HOW MUCH IS ENOUGH?

how much do I need to give to you? to prove that I am yours, to prove that I am putting my walls down, to prove that I love you?


how much do I have to give away?

my body, all of it? the intimacy?

or all of my thoughts, and my dreams?

all of it, every single bit?

how much of me is just for me then?

how much of me is left?


all the time, everytime

how much do I have to prove?
like im moving up to this invisible finish line?


I opened up this morning, about my dreams last night, and I didnt want you to get close to me cause it was so much just to be telling you it, add on the intimacy and it scared me. So i pushed you away,

"I dont like when you do that Dena"

"do what?"

"push me away"

I got angry, because I am opening up all I can-which is alot for me, and you say that its not enough, not enough.

I rolled over on my side, away from you.

you said "come on dena, dont be like that, tell me how your dream made you feel."

"you think im going to open up to you now, really?"

WHY IS IT NEVER ENOUGH?

I ALWAYS GIVE MYSELF AWAY

Why do people cheapen what I tell them?
Why is it that when I finally open up, someone decides to take advantage of it?

I sat with my feet in the beach sand, hot air filling my lungs at midnight, staring up at the stars.
The whole trip I felt like I couldnt talk to anyone,
travis walked up and sat next to me, and I spoke: hot fluid and burning words out of my mouth. Disdain, fear, sadness-god, so much sadness- and everything I saw, and wanted, my life, where I am going, how much I see, how old I feel.

and he was suprised, and intrigued. I kept talking, by the end of the conversation- he was so intrigued he said that he was going to marry me. He asked me If he could kiss me- I said no.

and i felt cheapened, why does it always have to be something more?
where is the face value?

Why do I have to be intriguing or lovely because I feel deeply?
Why can't someone just want to be friends and not try to claim me?

Why is that when I finally open up, someone see's the special and wants to shit on it by making me solely and only theirs?

Why cant it just be one deep meaningful conversation?

I am tired of being cheapened, and feeling dirty after I talk. I am tired of someone looking at me like im a shard of hope in their life because of whats inside me, I am tired of being gold among the dirt,I am tired of being the protector when I want someone to protect me. I am tired of being taken advantage of, I am tired of how i feel i have no one to talk to, and everytime I do it turns into something else.


I want to be listened too,
I want simplicity,
I want face value,
I want calm,
I want someone to take me for me

and to not cheapen it in the end.

The weapons an author has at her disposal are flawed. There are words that feel shapeless and overused. love, for example. I could write the word love a thousand times and it would mean a thousand different things to different readers.

What is the point of trying to put down on paper emotions that are too complex, too huge, too overwhelming to be confined by an alphabet?

Love isnt the only word that fails,

Hate does, too.

War

and hope. Oh, yes, hope.

So you see, this is why I never told my story.
If you lived through it, you already know there are no words that will ever come close to describing it.
And if you didnt, you will never understand.

-Jodi Picoult.



There are a million things I wish I could change.


I wish I could walk down the street and tell him hello, and that he would say it back.


I wish I could kiss him one last time, just so I could remember it again


I wish I could see how my life would have worked out if I didnt do drugs, if it would have turned out better or worse.


I wish that I could burn an image in my head of the stars on the river at night,


I wish I could drink alcohol again so I could remember what it felt like not to feel,


I wish I could fast forward a couple years, to see where I end up


I wish that I could erase the hurt that resides inside me,


I wish that things were easier,


I wish that I could capture him one last time, looking at me like I was the only thing in his world,


I wish I didnt wish these things,


I wish that just for once, wishing on a shooting star would come true.

Family

I hate family vacations, for me it's like being stuck with the people I've tried to untangle myself from for years. I feel stifled here- like I can't be myself, like I can't express myself- like my sensitivity and reactions aren't warranted. I am not validated- I feel like poison, I feel like someone else. I don't like who I become here because i become someone else- someone less- so they can feel better, because they don't Like me- and I don't know why. I used to think there was something wrong with me, now I just think it's them- their naive, lying tongues. Life isn't about letting things slide, it isn't about pleasing everyone else, it isn't about making things perfect, it isn't a present with a neat little bow. It is messy and it has feeling and depth, And I am messy and I have feeling and I have depth. I hate living naive, and gullible, in bubble wrap. My life has been rough, frayed at the edges and I have bled and for that I'm not accepted among them. But this is me now, i wont trade in, i wont become someone else anymore, I won't come back, I'm leaving my family behind. They think I'm the tragic one here, when I'm the only one who doesn't lie to myself.

I sat under the stars and thought about how much I wanted to shake you when I saw you. This is what I was after. You looked at me like I was a stranger, The blood in my arms, the fear, faster and faster. You turned me away, I look at myself in this moment over and over, the pain in my eyes- the shred of hope I had that somehow maybe you still cared about me, only to be proven wrong-only to have you literally slam the door in my face. Oh how I wish this was different And I refuse to see you in my mind anymore (I wish this was a choice), I can't believe I loved you