My depression is like an animal biting on my leg.

Some days I have the energy to make it go away even for a little bit,

like throwing a tennis ball to a dog, but it always comes back

It feels like I keep throwing the tennis ball over and over again to feel less miserable

but I just make myself tired trying to get rid of my misery. 

My body aches to feel something other than sadness.

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I told you that I wanted to have a baby.

You assumed it was because I needed a new play thing,

or that I needed more attention for myself.

Truthfully,

I wanted a baby

because that meant that a part of you 

would have to love me forever.

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My mom used to tell me that I thought like an artist.

I used to think she meant that

I focused on the details or 

that I was messy or

that I needed everything to be perfect.

I finally understood what she meant

when she said that I thought like an artist.

She meant that my creativity and pain

will always be accompanied with one another.

She meant that I feel everything 

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I wish I could say that I want you to be happy.

But truthfully,

I want you to miss me at 3 am 

when your bed is cold.

I want you to feel sad

when you're in the car

and my favorite song comes on.

I want you to realize 

that I'm not around.

I want you to notice

the traces of me everywhere.

I want you to feel this

just because

I'm too selfish.

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I could grow a garden in a box

If I took every piece of pain and negativity

from within myself

and put it into a seed.

I would have the most beautiful garden;

People will take pictures of my garden

and ask me my trick to get it to bloom...

My only trick

is pretending that sadness

can make something grow.

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Stop spinning me around like a bottle at a party. 

I'm too dizzy to keep up with your late night decisions.

I wish you would stop putting me on the back burner because you have a new meal to eat.

I wish I was the bottle before it was drank and spun. 

I wish I was your only decision.

Make me your main course.

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I am a rum bottle. 

My contents should make me forget you,

but they only make me want to tell you just how bad you've hurt me 

and how I still love you;

but I can't make out the words between the gasps of air from crying.

I can't shake the hangover I get from you. 

I am addicted to myself because at one time, you loved me.

Maybe if I love rum like you did, you'll love me once ...

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I out grew begging for my father's attention.

I stopped trying to make him proud.

I stopped wishing he would love me. 

I stopped hoping he would care.

His other daughter had all of it.

She had his attention.

She made him proud.

She had all his love.

She knew he cared.

There was nothing left for me.

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I can smell her on you.

I can feel your heart beating to the rhythm of her name.

I can see her in your eyes.

You used to smell like me.

Your heart used to beat to my name.

You used to have stars in your eyes.

You are full of her,

but I'm the empty one. 

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your lips are coated in sugar

because your insides arent sweet.

You are pretending to love me

because you think I'll hurt myself.

I want you to be happy, but I know

happiness isnt for me. 

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Today I asked you 

if you were sorry for how you treated me

and you said no

and you said i deserve it.

I have never been so shattered

in my entire life.

You were the one

who was supposed to keep me together,

not break me apart.

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Everyone knew something different 

than the reality.

they knew a student,

they knew the cheerleading captain,

they knew the girl who always smiled.

I know that person, 

in reality.

I know an eating disorder,

I know self harm,

I know pain.

I know

because 

it was me, doing all the thinking.

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You punished me

when I cried for help.

You punished me 

when I wanted to be numb.

You punished me

for speaking up.

So

I stopped.

I stopped crying out,

I stopped feeling,

I stopped speaking.

But now you feel

that I punished you.

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I wonder what you would say

if you walked into the room

with the water turned red.

I wonder what you would do

if all the pill bottles were empty.

I wonder how you would feel

if you were too late.

But I'll never find out;

I'm not that brave.

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I am drowning.

Every time someone grabs my hand to pull me out,

another rock is tied to my ankle.

I sink deeper and deeper.

I am simply too stupid

to know the difference between air and water,

but I keep trying to breathe 

because I believed 

that there was always some good 

in the situation.

But I'm just too stupid 

to figure out how to survive.

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I refuse to be 

the damsel in distress.

I refuse to be 

the princess who waits 

for her prince charming.

I am my own happy ending,

I am my own fairytale. 

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Sometimes I wake up

at 3 am

because I have nightmares

that you tell me you're sorry.

I'm not scared of your apologies,

I'm scared because you lie.

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My idea of hell

is trying to maintain 

a healthy state of mind

when the physical state

of everything around you

is toxic.

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The first time 

you put your hands on me,

you said it was out of love.

the second time

you said it was because 

i upset you.

the last time 

you tried to touch me

i walked away

and i have never looked back

because you do not 

deserve me.

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Girls are taught from a young age

that they should never

wear too much makeup

or wear tight clothing

or wear short clothing

or drink too much

or be too kind 

because 

no one ever thought 

to teach boys

not to rape.

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I did not tell anyone

because you told me

I would be in trouble

I would be unloved

I would be disgusting.

I did not tell

until I was seventeen.

You said

that I lied

that I wanted attention.

You walk free

while I am locked away

in a prison of suffering.

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The men will ask

"why should 

he sit in prison

when he is suffering

for his crimes?"

the women will answer:

because we suffer

for the rest of our lives.

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I have found that 

I am a flower bed

that is unable to grow

the rose seeds 

that have been planted in me.

They sprout,

but they always wither.

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I need to appreciate 

how far I have come

because 

I am no longer 

the girl who lets men

tell her she is not enough

I am no longer the girl

who lets her relationship

with her father 

tear her apart.

Because now 

I am a woman.

I am strong.

I am independent.

I am changed.

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I struggle with myself.

I struggle 

to look at myself in the mirror

because 

i know that 

my insecurities 

and self doubt

will tear me apart

before my day even begins.

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First,

you went after the hispanics

claiming that we stole your jobs

but you never left your couch.

then,

you went after the women

claiming that we asked for it

in our skirts and tight dresses

but you did not accept no.

and now,

you go after the muslims

because of their religion

but your god tells you

to love thy neighbor.

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Por qué

¿No puedo pelear?

Cuando es mi cuerpo en guerra con el hombre.

Por qué

¿No puedo elegir?  

Cuando soy el afectado.

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I remember

watching my mother

fall apart

after what my father

had done to her.

I watched 

a girl die

and saw a woman

being born.

I watched 

the devil leave

and he never returned.

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Thank you

for making me believe

that i was too ugly

to even love myself.

thank you

for making me believe

 that my self worth

depended on how i am in the bedroom.

thank you

for being the worst human being,

that you could ever be.

but truly,

honestly,

thank you

for making me realize

that i am more

than what you ever said i was.

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I wish 

i lived in a time 

and a place 

where the length 

of my skirt did not

measure my self worth.

or wear wearing makeup

was not perceived as

lying to men

about who i really am.

i wish i wish i wish.

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I am an object.

I am pages of a magazine,

that stuck together, so

you need to forcefully,

rip and tear me open.

I am a lawn chair,

so you can bend me over 

whenever you like, just because.

I am a drysheet wall that you

can just throw punches at

and put holes in whenever you please.

I am an object and

I cannot argue with you

or tell you to not touch me like th...

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Simple talks turn into

arguing about mistakes

and 

laughter turns into

burning in our throats from screaming

at each other

hugs turn into 

fists

that somehow...

somehow, they end up aimed at me

everything turns into 

you becoming something

you said you'd never be.

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I have a tattoo.

it's different than a normal tattoo

i have a tattoo.

I have a permanant reminder

of a decision

not my decision.

my tattoo is myself.

i am reminded how:

i asked for it when i was eight.

i asked for it in my pink nightgown 

i asked for it because 

"boys will be boys" and

men will be boys

and boys are "easily distracted"

but i have a tattoo.

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