I wake up each morning, questioning why God wasted the materials to create me.
I look in the mirror and wonder how my reflection got inside.
I touch my stomach, arms, legs, face-- wanting to rip them off and start from scratch.
I panic when I start to feel happy; I know everything has an abrupt way of ending.
I look at my scars and pretend that my fingers are razor blades.
I read my bible and cry because it doesn't make sense.
I drink water because it's the only thing that's keeping me alive.
I read books and tear out the last chapters; there's no such thing as happy endings.
I take pictures and wish I could freeze time forever.
I wash my hair and wonder why I even bother.
I drink liquor and feel betrayed when it does little for my mood.
I look through old albums and want to scratch out our happy faces.
I hear stories and wish I had the balls to do what they do.
I sit in the dark and pretend no one will find me.
I talk to the trees because they're the only one's reaching out to me.
I write poetry to ensure that I have a way of speaking.
I cry in private because I stopped cutting.
I dream of St. Vincent's and wish they would have kept me.
I question everything because I've learned that nothing is what it seems.
I don't like men and I don't like that no one believes me.
I write names on paper in case someday I'll need to change my identity.
I crave intimacy. I crave flattery. I crave love; The three things that cause insanity.
