Thursday, December 8, 2011

the one i gave to you

& i don't know what i'm doing in this broken world anymore,
i've been pulling at the seams for far too long
and i'm inches from falling off,
falling away and down,
down,
down,
or up,
if i'm lucky.

& i've lost the pieces that i tore off
when i just couldn't handle the pain,
left them lying on random sidewalks in random towns,
sprinkled across this nation
and this state
because i didn't know where else to put them
other than all over this god forsaken world
where you can make me cry
by telling someone
my greatest secret.

& thats just not cool bro,
do you realize how much pain that caused me?

i know that you want to fix me,
i know that you want to sew me together again
and find all of my missing pieces,

but you just made another piece go missing,
the one i gave to you.

messed up, fucked up me

& i can't handle the pain,
the pain of losing you
because i just can't let anyone into my
messed up,
fucked up
head.

i'm sorry that i can't let anyone in,
i'm sorry that i'm too scared to let them pick me apart
at the seams
& gaze into the messed up chaos that is my mind,
i don't want them to tell me everything thats wrong with me
because, baby, i know whats wrong.

i know that its wrong to act this way,
to do these things,
but i can't just walk away like you did,
i've invested so much into this life
& i almost don't want to change,
even for you.

cause, baby, i'm scared of the doctor,
i'm scared of their institutions & their pills,
i'm terrified of the truth, of trusting.

& baby i'm so very sorry that i can't be what you wish i could be,
i'm sorry that i can't do what you wish i would,
i'm sorry that i'm so afraid,
i wish that you could understand.

i'm not ready for this yet.

don't worry

when i wrote myself onto paper
and exposed every last flaw and imperfection
you asked if it was true
and i said don't worry,
its just fiction.

when i sang myself into the breeze
in my effort to fly away
you held me down and asked me
where i was going
and i told you don't worry,
its just a melody.

when i danced myself into the ground
so that i could hide myself from the world
you pulled me to the surface
and asked me why
and i told you don't worry,
its just a movement.

when i wrote myself in words
and showed you the truth in letter
you asked me how
and i told you don't worry,
its just fiction.

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

stitch me together my love

i wish that you could fix me,
stitch together my broken pieces
and glue all of the leftovers
into a masterpiece
created from beautifully broken and shattered
me.

i wish that you would be around to
hold me together
with an infinite amount of ductape
and spider's thread,
replacing every stitch i break through
when i just can't handle the world
and so i cut it away.

honey, i wish that i could be
sewn back together
and held together with your love,
but i'm married to these
razor blades
and i will forever be slicing through
my pale skin and, in turn,
all of your efforts to pull me back
together.

but keep stitching me together my love,
keep me from pulling at the seams
and breaking away
because i'm inches from the edge

of breaking.

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

a look into my insanity

so I'm gonna be straight with you guys, even though I don't know if anyone actually reads my blog anymore anyway, but whatever. I need to get this off of my chest, I need to tell the truth.

I didn't cut for 5 months [I know, I couldn't believe it, it seemed to good to be true. it was.] and then I broke down and started up again. my tumblr for the last month and a half has basically been all about the fact that I think I am ugly, fat, worthless, alone, I don't let the good thoughts into my head. When someone tells me that they think I'm beautiful or that they think I'm amazing, smart, any compliment they give me I immediately think is a lie, same with when someone tells me that they love me. I let all of the bad stuff in, but I won't let the good stuff get past my ears or my eyes and that is really bad.
I know it is.
And so I was cutting and then, somehow, I stopped. It was great, I didn't have to worry about scars and new cuts anymore, I didn't have to hide. I was getting better. I didn't need depression meds and I went to a counselor every other, sometimes every, wednesday. Life was good, but I was still in pain. Just because everything seemed okay didn't mean that I was okay on the inside. I was just pretending, everything internally was still the same. I still didn't trust, I never spoke to my counselor about anything really personal, and I still wouldn't let anything good inside.

So after 5 months I gave up and started cutting again.
I stopped trying.
I stopped living.
I gave up.

And I got caught and told on, but I lied my way out of it and ended up not going to inpatient therapy for it and I convinced everyone that everything was fine. It wasn't. I was still cutting, but hiding it better than I had before. I did it [do it] on parts of my body that are not seen and almost all of my cuts are deep and bleed a lot.
I even passed out after cutting on Thanksgiving.
That is how bad it is now.

I have given up trying at this point. I'm so fucked up inside and I will never be able to let anyone in to help me. Ever.
I wrote a suicide letter a few days ago and I look at it a lot. I really have been thinking about that recently. I have been thinking about killing myself and everyday it seems like a better and better idea, but at the same time I am afraid that I will mess up my little sister's for life.
How am I supposed to know who would find me?
And there are these 4 brothers who I am really close to and they are like brothers to me and I was talking to their mom who told me that it would kill them if I killed myself and I would hate myself for doing that to them, but at the same time I think that the world would be so much better without me.

Well, that's my little "what's been happening" segment. Sorry its so goddamn depressing.

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

nothing more than nothing

& i just want to be called beautiful,
to be compared to the stars & the sea & the first snowfall.

i just want to feel like i'm not nothing,
that maybe i'm a little bit of something
& not just some cluster of meaningless energy
being tossed around in the breeze.

i just want someone to call me beautiful
& tell me that i matter,
maybe then i won't be cutting through these stitches
& picking at these cracks in my soul
because i just can't see myself as any more than nothing
& anything less that nonexistant.

but then again,
i'm not beautiful.
_________________________

i have low self confidence. for the rest of the week i'm just going to be posting a poem and maybe a little explanation if i feel like it is needed because i'm trying to post more. :)

Monday, November 28, 2011

i am not my name

it feels like my name is not my name,
not anymore.

i've lost it in my constant twirling,
whirling,
swirling
of thoughts and words,
what i once was and will never be
again.

it once felt right to think of myself,
defined by a name that i did not pick,
did not choose after months of deliberation and late nights
watching tv shows for inspiration
while drinking luke warm coffee
and watching fireflies in the arms of a lover, husband, friend.

now i can't see myself as more than this something,
this someone,
defined by a name that has been lost
in the words that i have tried so hard to define myself with
because i had nothing left to question,
but everything to wonder.

because i am no longer this person,
no longer this girl with blue eyes and red hair and countless smiles.

i am not the one you have defined by a name, by a thousand and two labels.

i am late nights watching fireflies and drinking luke warm coffee,
blue skies and sunsets of purple and pink and orange,
rainy days and rainbows filling the open sky,
questions and answers,
thoughts and imaginings.

i am words and letters and sentances and paragraphs,
but never a whole story
because my story has not been written,
yet.

i am a lover and the one they love,
the pulsing of two hearts against each other and the lingering smokey breath in cold winter air.

i am the ocean waves and the calm lakes,
the hunter and the hunted,
the fixer and the breaker.

i am all these things.

and i am more.

i am not the one you have defined,
can't you see?

this name is not mine because my name has not been written
in the dust and the dirt and the mud of this earth,
my name has not been spoken by the lips of the people of this world,
yet.
______________________

yep, i'm back!!! [with a new name and everything]
i missed posting so much and i'm going to do my best to post more often okay? :)

Monday, March 7, 2011

Ode to Molloy by Samuel Beckett

<dedicated to Molloy by Samuel Beckett - my english project>
I was told that you were challenging and that I wasn't ready,
but I didn't listen and when I was given an extension to change books
I stuck with you because the language was beautifully chaotic
and reminded me a little bit about myself.
I thought that maybe I would learn about myself
by reading this book that every teacher said I was too young for
and I wanted the challenge
that books stopped presenting to me when I turned 6
and read chapter books without pictures that were hundreds of pages long.
oh how wrong I was.
At first the going wasn't easy,
but not hard,
it was an experience and I loved the ways the words twisted around me
and made my mind swirl
unlike any other book that I have ever read.
And then deadlines began to draw near and I couldn't keep up
with the time that I had left,
I wanted to savor the words as I read them
and now I only have 4 days left and I'm not even half way through,
my mind can't keep up with the words that are being thrown at me
and I think that I might literally die
because of the effort that I am putting into this one book.
You have taught me so much,
more than any other book I have read,
but I really wish that I could go back and read a different book
because I have to admit that my teacher was right,
I'm not ready for this book,
at least under a deadline.
I know that I could read you if I had a year,
but a month wasn't nearly enough.
You have changed my way of thinking,
but I regret choosing to read you for this assignment.
The thoughts you present me make my mind swirl
and I don't know if I can function anymore.
I do have to say though;
if I do die reading you,
at least I tried and even a few pages were enough
to make me rethink everything I have ever thought.
Thanks for the learning and the torture,
you have taught me much,
but I wouldn't recommending reading you in only a month.
_______________________________________________
this is dedicated to Molloy a novel by the writer Samuel Beckett which I had to read for an english project. I regret that decision everyday :) but it was totally worth it in the end because it was a good book ♥

~AT

Thursday, March 3, 2011

A Tale Of Self Discovery (Sad)

She hadn't written in months, too consumed by self discovery to take the time and release her emotions onto a blank page, or maybe four.  Too busy, she explained to the inner writer that was screaming to be released, too occupied with the world that she so much wanted to be admired by.
Once, long before, she didn't care about trivial things like make up and style, preferring to wear jeans and a baggy shirt instead of mini skirts and tight shirts that fell so low they didn't count as clothing, revealing too much of nothing. But now she wears the scanty clothing and just like she ditched her old clothes, she ditched her old friends too; trading them for girls who got drunk on weekends and had sex on weekdays.  What once sickened her now drew her into its clutches while her friends and family stood by, unaware and helpless.
She fell to society and hated every minute of it, wishing that she could just walk away, but never able to. 
She lost her virginity at 13; too young to understand, too young to comprehend, too young to be anything yet.  Years of scanty clothing and getting drunk on weekends changed her, made her unrecognizable from the 12-year-old nerd that she used to be.
And she became the girl who everyone worshipped to her face and called a slut behind her back.  The Queen of broken hearts and stolen innocence.  She became nothing but drugs, sex, and alcohol and nobody seemed to care.
I did.
I used to watch her in class while she passed notes and giggled under her breath, making jokes that only the victims like me could hear and the teacher couldn't.  I didn't care, I could see the broken girl inside and I wanted to fix her, mend her, bring back the girl that she once was, the girl that still was screaming inside to be let free. I was told that it was impossible, but I never gave up.
I tutored her in math and said "hello" in the halls and placed notes in her locker about her beauty and strength.  In the end she told me everything and I listened, determined to fix the broken girl that stood in front of me.
It was an obsession, a thought that consumed my mind every day and night until one day when I woke up to birds singing and a sun shining and a hole in my heart.

She had comitted suicide the night before.
I went to her funeral dressed all in black, but not shedding a single tear.  I stared at her smiling picture and wished that I could have fixed that broken girl who had only wanted to find herself. I paid my respects in silence and turned to leave, but someone stopped me.  I looked into the red, tear stained, and empty eyes of her mother who handed me an envelope addressed to me in her neat, curly handwriting that I had grown to love. 
I didn't read what she had written for weeks to come and when I finally opened that neatly addressed envelope I held the pages and pages of her last outpourings of her heart and read every word on every page until my eyes blurred with tears and I cried for the first time.  I unfolded the last page of her writing that held only a few lines and then I let myself sob and mourn the girl who I had tried so hard to fix. 

You tried to fix me when I was too broken,
the only one who ever tried,
and I thank you.

I still find myself, years later, opening that envelope and shuffling through the pages until that one, short poem and I read it over and over again, never failing to shed a few tears over my lost and broken friend. The girl who though she was nothing, but really was everything.
____________________________________________
sorry it's depressing and sorry that I haven't posted in FOREVER!!! i wasn't getting comments so i didn't take the time, but then i figured that no comments didn't matter to me, but writing did, so i'm BACK :)

~AT

Monday, January 17, 2011

It feels like I have been a part of this world for my whole life,
that I was born into these twisted words
and thoughtful imaginings,
thinking up the story of my life before it even began.
My mother assures me that I kicked in the womb
like any normal baby,
but I wonder if I was really kicking
and not throwing notebooks of unfinished pieces
in complete fustration
at their failure to get across my feelings and emotions.
I wanted out of that balled up space,
into the open air of the world where I could breathe
and comtemplate my thoughts,
your thoughts,
the actions of that man who just knocked my mother over
in his desparation to get away from the store that he had just robbed a coat from,
for his little daughter.
I wonder if I know her,
have ever seen her before,
bumped into her in the never ending hallways of high school.
I remember kindergarten and preschool
where the teachers rules ment nothing,
nothing
to me and I broke them over and over and over,
all the while moving ahead of my friends and classmates,
I could read full sentances and chapters of old english
way before they could
and I was writing sonnets and love poems
before they could ever begin to fathom the depths of high school love.
I grew up before they could even form one cohesive thought.
I've been called "normal" by some,
but what is normal?
and do I really fit that category?
How many of you were righting on the inside of your mother's womb
and leaving messages for the little siblings you knew would follow after?
And while my peers spend their time trying to understand each other,
I am trying to understand the world.
I mean seriously?
why are teachers paid so little and treated like nobodies?
because people must notice that the sombodies would be "nobodies" too
if it wasn't for them.
and what about this racial prejudice and hate of anyone whose different?
don't tell me that it doesn't exist anymore,
look around you.
Terrorist jokes?
Gay intolerence?
Political assassination?
people have views and they show it,
but is the way they do it really necessary?
and then people call me insane because I question society.
Well I have a word for you,
you nonrespectful, hating, prejudiced, animals
acceptance.
And I don't understand why or how or when,
all I know is that all this time I have been putting these thoughts on paper
and fighting for what I believe in.
I think my mother was wrong,
I never kicked in her womb
because I was too busy writing and chucking unfinished notebooks
in pure fustration.
______________________________
yep a new poem, at last!!! :)
i just wrote this on a whim, no thought or anything behind it really
hope you liked it :)

~AT

Sunday, January 9, 2011

To The Writers (Keep On Writing My Friends)

"I love it when I can watch my writing flow across the page
like a never ending waterfall
creating colorful rainbows of imagination
& pure blissful images of beautiful skies and fields at dusk
on a late summer's night."
i.
Writing is about so much more than what people believe it to be,
it is imagination and cutting all the way to your very core,
spilling out your deepest secrets and darkest desires
in a way that is so uncomprehensable to anyone
but those who share a place in this world where reality doesn't exist
and everything is beautiful,
you only have to find it and then write like a demon-possessed lunatic
(except it is good possession and lunacy,
because writers are anything but sane and that is a good thing,
sanity is so boring)
ii.
Believe and Imagine and write it all down
because your thoughts are valuable and your opinions are priceless.
iii.
Let those coffee stained notebooks be your life
because there is nothing better than to bringing a character into existance
who is your best friend and witnessing them defeat all odds
because writing the story is just as much fun as reading it,
you just have to pick up a pen and let it flow
(you never know what might emerge)
iv.
Writing can teach you things about yourself and life
that nothing else could teach you because the answers you seek
are always inside and by releasing it onto the paper you are letting yourself free
and paving the way for others behind you to reach into themselves,
the discovery is the best part.
v.
And there is nothing like sitting back after you've written a particularly excellent piece
and feeling the pride spread through your whole body,
leaving a pleasent feeling of purpose and happiness,
nothing can make a person happier than seeing their work on paper
that the whole world can read to better understand their thoughts and dreams and desires
because writing opens a window to your soul.
So my friends I urge you to keep writing and never stop
because I can garuntee that you won't regret it,
writing is a part of everyone,
you only have to take the leap
and pour yourself onto paper,
a true masterpiece will form before your very eyes.
________________________
i wrote this piece to inspire people to write, i hope it works :) (there wasn't really any more of a story behind it than that)

~AT

Friday, January 7, 2011

Inexperienced Lover

so i know that i never say anything before the poem that i'm posting, but i feel like i owe you guys the reason for why i haven't been posting that often so you don't think that i'm abandoning you.  
school- midterms are coming up and so are sign ups for next year classes, i am also starting to get college stuff and am trying to keep my grades up for a potential scholarship
life- just recently Kace asked me out and so i have been dating him for about a week now, he is amazing and awesomely cool AND i am in the process of getting the book i wrote published as well as writing another book (not related to the one i just wrote, totally different plot)
sports- i was placed on varsity for the nordic ski team at school and so i have been training hard to stay on varsity (i have a race tomorrow) 

sooo i have been VERY busy, as you can tell and i haven't had much time to even write, which was killing me, and i apologize profusely. please forgive me!!!

(the poem is something i wrote about Kace and i - there will be a lot of sappy love poems in the coming weeks, i promise, but i will still spice it up with other types of my poems and maybe some excerpts from my book/the book i am writing now)

These feelings are so strange and foreign;
pounding hearts,
beating in unison
as you hold me to you and whisper in my ear
and I wonder if you can feeling my heart pound
ten times faster with longing for this moment
that will last forever.
 
I've never felt this way before,
I am so small and inexpierienced compared to you,
with 2 years more experience than me
and you still take it slowly for me ,
I can tell that you love me just as much as I love you
and I can feel how our hands fit together perfectly,
like puzzle pieces,
reunited at last.
 
All I can think about is you when your not there
and all I can think about is you when you are,
you are perfect
and understand my fear of taking it one step farther,
I'm terrified of kissing you,
but I want it so bad
and I long to get rid of this irrational fear
because I know you won't judge me
and that you will still love me just as much as now.
 
You have changed me so much;
making me fear these foreign emotions
because I never knew someone who mattered that much
and you convinced me to go to the dance in the end of January,
I can't wait to go now
and have my princess moment that I have longed for,
you don't realize how much I hate dances,
but I love you and will go,
if only for you.
 
I want our first kiss to be at the dance,
it seems just fitting for us because you waited for me
for months
until my parents met you and got to know you,
finally giving their approval
and then you asked me out and I said yes,
I stuttered and you didn't care.
 
I can't believe how much I still need to learn
and you are the perfect teacher,
before you I was afraid to try things that couldn't be described in words
and you have opened my eyes to a whole new world
that I never could see before,
I want this to last forever and ever
because you are amazing and I love you more than any other.
 
You let me be me and you still are yourself
and I appreciate that so much more than you will ever know
because you don't rush me and that means the world to me.
 
♥ ♥ ♥
 
~AT