****** into this existence
of such recurring pain
a wound that never heals
dull and aching
did i ask for this
in lifetimes i don’t remember?
and will we see each other again
will i be your angel
again
i wonder when this world will end
far after i am gone
but i yearn to be reborn
this cannot be the end
i feel lifetimes inside me
the chemical reactions in my body
remembering every past experience
but i’m forever in a stupor
when will i reach
omniscience
stuck in this existence
of which i did not ask for
that has not much to offer

trying to survive my 20's
i try so hard to forget
everything my eyes have seen
and everything i've ever said

there's no way to tell what's real
when i think back it's all a blur
i try so hard not (to feel
every day) and every word

disconnection from myself
and the reality i've created
and the girl i try to sell
and the things that i've hated

for every thing i've loved
has left me so aware
of who i am the lonesome dove
with tired wings (to tear

a part) of my existence
made most sense to me
now i worry i wasted
the years that i was free

(you) want from me transparency
of which i cannot give
when i look inward the girl i see
is a mystery of wind

how can i explain i'm a ghost
of who you think i am
you love her most
you should have (ran

from me) i have a gift
you're not the only fooled
all the words along my lips
are all survival tools

a creature born from loss
i know nothing else
but to rise (from chaos)
no matter the expense

i wonder how much longer
i can not **** myself
subject to this torture
do i belong among the angels
or in the depths of hell

I feel nothing and everything at once
I feel shell shocked but haven't been to war
The weight of my limbs keeping me here
And the heart beating so fast is ironic
My mind's iconic
I see blue all around me
My eyes are grey
Giving myself a headache
I wander outside of my body
It's scary
And terrifying is the sound of my voice
But I have to keep breathing
In sync with my breath I think
I'm thinking a lot as I start to panic
I feel like I'm dying
Everything in side of me is ultrasonic
I'm crying
And if this is what feeling is like
I'd rather not
An epiphany
Maybe my panic attacks happen
As a result of me not letting myself
Feel

I used to have a diary that I named 'Tina' because somebody told me that it made writing easier. As a way to get me to journal.. ?
Dear Tina,
I feel so incapable and small. I feel like **** for all of my short comings. But more than that, I feel like **** for the **** I've had to go through. I hate how as I feel every feeling and especially when it gets bad, my mind instantly goes to the logical side of things. "You're feeling this way as a result of not taking your medication. You're feeling this way because of experiences you had as a child, and that's completely normal." And I list all of the reasons why I feel the way I feel. Why the **** do I have to make logical sense out of how I feel and not just simply let myself feel?
And none of this matters at all. Because at the end of the day it's still going to hurt, and I'm never going to forget my childhood. And I don't know HOW to move on.
And then there are the good days and feelings of euphoria where I feel the pain and I am able to address it without letting it consume me. I know it's there, but there's so much more than pain. Thank god for the times where I'm actually really happy.
But tonight I feel like ****. And I miss my mom. And I even miss the house with ciggarettes in the flower pots. I just really wish I could hug my mom again one last time. And feel her heart beat against mine again. I wish I could have said goodbye. I'll never have that closure. And I'll never have a do-over.
I only hope to be a better person than I am today, and keep on growing. I hope to be kind and compassionate even when I've grown to be so cynical. I hope to never stop finding the sky beautiful and majestic, or the wind soothing.
And I hope to always be worthy of the love those closest to me give me. Because that really is what keeps me going when it comes down to it.
Those that love me make it all worth it.

i can't make myself happy
when i can't get off this chair
too anxious to stop crying
silently hating my stare

my face is so ****** ugly
i'm shaking, i'm trying to stop
nothing could ever console me
this dark and familiar spot

depression that grabs me is all too familiar
i'm crippled and tired, too tired to care

a few pills will save me from cutting my body
again and again i'll make myself sleep
it's always been there, this darkness and crying
but now i know that it's better to sleep

because it escalates to rage and seeing spots
and punching holes in the wall and filling holes from inside with
alcohol and cigarettes and petting my pride

my egotistical mind that thinks that if i look good
at least i have that, and that's one thing i have

so i spend hours in front of the mirror painting my face and doing my hair and ******* hating my face, my ****** stare

if i look long enough i see myself change and no longer am i fragile, i'm filling that space
where i can't hurt i  just harm and push everyone away
it's harder to ache and to look at my face
than it is to get cold and harder to touch and harder to shove

and i can't replace my face with anyone else's
so i better make it perfect
keep on going and try to calm down
keep myself busy and play music loud

so typical.
it's a cycle.
i'm trying.
still breathing.