#spilled writing

I wrote the following six years ago when I was 15, my dad was abusive and my mom ignored it I just found it in an old notebook. A child should never feel this much pain and fear. Someday I hope I can make this little girl proud.

Yellow Oak Tree:

The sun is hot and burning

The earth is cruel and harming

Fear surrounds the innocent

Can nothing be saved?

But as I lay beneath you shade a cloak of serenity cascades around me

I am safe

Under the yellow oak tree

Free from judgement

Protected from ridicule

Safe from death

Under the yellow oak tree.

All I want to do is close my eyes and when I open them be somewhere far away from where I am right now, where no one knows me but everyone wants to, and I a chance to finally be something.

To my love

Thank you for always being by my side

When everyone in my life would leave me

I knew I could always trust you

And that gives me hope for a better future

One where we can be happy

I know I haven’t always treated you with kindness

You’ve seen parts of me that no one else has, yet you still want me to be happy

You want me to be a better me

I love you

So from me to me…

Please be my Valentine

I’ve decided to go to war.

Not with anyone in particular but with my life.

For too long I have just followed life wherever it led me,

My life took away friends, family, and opportunities from me all while I was too busy being at war with what what going on in my own head.

Now, the fear, anxiety, and depression I have that were once my enemy have issued a treaty.

And we are going to take back my life,

Together.

It’s 2AM and I just cut all my hair off because I felt my life spiraling out of control yet again and I wanted to and I wanted to feel in control again. Now I’m kinda freaking out but I also kinda love my new hair!

Be proud of the ones you still have hope

Be proud of the ones who are still trying

Be proud of the ones who refuse to give up

Praying that their is a beautiful future waiting for them.

I keep wanting to live my life in the past while everyone else is heading towards the future.

All the while I miss out on the goods things I have right in front of me in the present.

Why does the sun set?

The night lasts so much longer then the day.

Even though I know the sun will always come back,

The night frightens me.

As the darkens creeps in I lose sight of the future.

This all encompassing darkness hiding me from my loved ones and passions.

Still, at any moment, I know, the sun will rise.

So I will be patient, and have hope knowing that soon sunshine will wash over me again.

I have spilled pieces of me that no longer breathed. I feel dead, inside and out. Yet I try to smile because I don’t want anyone to ask me what’s wrong. If only I had known what’s wrong, I might have done something about it. But I don’t know. So I live –like a burden upon myself.

I have to dream it all over again. I have to murder the old characters —the smiling faces. I have to envision a different story and paint a new picture. Same place. But a different soul to bond with. I have to let go of the part of me that existed in micro moments and flashes.

I chose a wrong path to infidelity. I tied my limbs to unbreakable bonds. I lost my breaths over moments that did not exist. I let myself burn in ashes and smoke away in ghosted air. I have been my own enemy.

a dream so beautiful it aches.

I have this vision that encroaches my mind like a pandemic. I am looking out the glass window -upon the tall buildings and bright, flickering lights from a dark bedroom dimmed with pure darkness. You walk to stand behind me, wrapping your careful hands around my timid waist. Your chin on my shoulder as we hear the entire world going silent. Everything in slow motion, everything vanishing in the background. It’s us against the world -just as we craved for. A dangerous feeling that makes us feel safe for the one and only time. We are here every night resting our realities to a graveyard where dreams live.

I am the sinner and the saint. I am the broken and the healer. I am the whimper and the laughter. I am the ocean and the sky. The day and the night. I am nothing. But I am everything.

I thought I had a shoulder to cry on.

Until I woke up and realised it was a frozen plank.

I am ashamed that I cannot figure out yet what I want. What I have always wanted. Because what is life without longing?

She drew in trouble wherever she went. There was something odd about her. Maybe it was the way her eyes laid on anyone. Or it was the way she couldn’t let anybody help her. They all thought they knew her. But it wasn’t what it was. They only knew what she wanted them to believe. Nobody knew her. So when she disappeared, she left no traces behind. Some say it was a getaway. But I know. I know she was taken.

I am throwing my own body in the ocean full of giant whales with sharp teeth to rip my body off as if it never existed. I want to let the wolves have the big sacrifice and feast on it as they’ve been longing for. Here, in this place where they kill, I found love. I’ve found it where it wasn’t supposed to be.

The last time I saw her she was blooming like daisies, wearing a weary smile, cloaked in hopeless gown of despair. She told me she was scared of something -or someone. Her dreams caught the best of her, fell down trying to fly so high. She told me she had left God behind and she was ashamed. The last time I saw her, she was fading but she was alive. They killed her. Piece by piece. Second by second. The last time I saw her I could hear her breathing ashes of her broken soul.

And you don’t even like me. But you like the idea of me —the idea of having me.

I need somebody to save me -literally.

From this point on, I need someone to hold my hand tight, hear my heart breaking, let me cry with my head against their chest. Sit with me in silence, for a little while.

I need someone to do a ritual, cleanse my soul. Bury my sinful soul and burn it. To help me get out of this vicious cycle of addiction. I cannot do it. If I could, I would. But I have certainly crossed the point. 

I am unaware of the days and nights. I am unaware of my whereabouts. I don’t know who I have talked to. I don’t know the people I see everyday. They look like walking corpse to me. I am already living in an apocalypse. And I need help.