You Are Nothing To Me

How would it feel to be loved?
To be unconditionally free?
To be accepted as you are.
To be you in your normalcy?

How would it feel if you didn't have to pretend, hide, escape
To run from who you really are
To fix a mess you didn't make?

How would it feel to be loved?
To not be you anymore?
To be someone better?
Who hoped for more?

How would it feel if you didn't have to psych yourself up.
To try to forget the pain, isolation, the secrets you've kept.
If only reality could be as real as you could be
If only you could stand the possibility of who you can be

321 self destruct
I wish my mind wouldn't but it'll concave
Implode on itself
Miss can you pleases behave?

I face myself, put my hands on her shoulders
If  i didn't know better girl you're getting older
older isn't wiser it's more years spent
trying to be that person you always were meant

Failing, hurting, spinning
I can't be here anymore, the depression is winning
I know I'm meant for more and yet I'm stagnant
The beauty is in the eye of the beholder
Fucking blinded

The consistency the persistency of the words on my lips
Is the only thing that's consistent

What if I released those words
And just wrote, felt and hoped
And said fuck the lyrics and the poetry
And just screamed at you what I'm actually feeling
How i can't stand to be myself but  now is when I need me more than anyone else
And so I'm hiding this, me, I'm holding me
I'm so blinded with pain i can't see what's right from wrong

Write from wrong
What do you know anyway
Who are you to say that this is me and how i should be
You never put in the work anyway

And everybody hurts and screams
And feels there's no one by their side
But if they'd only look past my blood shot eyes
They'd realize there's me inside

And I don't know who me is and
I can't see who I could be but
Maybe she'll be better than you
And she'll realize
That her family isn't family
And her friends are fake
and her ex fucked that bitch on your first date

And your gut was right but it brings no peace
I told you so lingers on my lips
But there's no one to hear me say it
He, they quit a long time ago
Alone

But fuck that maybe I'm doing great
And maybe all this shit will build me up
Breaking is not an option anymore
When we break we burst
And all I can see is what's right in you and wrong in me

And people that can't handle themselves
or be themselves become their normality
and it's in you and it's in me and i can't see straight
there's so much fucked in my world
i have so much hate

how do talk about what shouldn't be mentioned
That the life you should have has was stolen from you
Alluding to the truth, tip toeing around the issue
Be quiet, behave

How to do you talk about the fact you never had a dad
All you wanted was a human to put you to bed at night
and wanted comfort and love and yet the house was saturated with hate
and it's not you it's them but it doesn't change your nightmares
that was your life
whether he stays or goes doesn't matter to me
because he never will be, never could be, always will be
Nothing to me
Except the force that made me

Silhouettes, Echos

Just press play.

Song is Silhouettes by Echos. Check it.

Then let's talk feelings.

Like feelings that overwhelm you.

I don't know where to start, let's deal with it later feelings.

Emo, Dashboard Confessional, black nail polish, I never belonged feelings.

And yet I try to adapt.

When I go to write my mind becomes as blank as the page.

Even though I'm exploding with thoughts.

Things I want to share with you.

Things I want to purge.

Things I want to forget.

Things I wish I never thought.

Things I wish I never felt.

Things I can't speak about.

And yet they scream from my skin.
Your traces burn and the smoke lingers.

The only time I feel centered is when I write.

When I rip the words out of my throat and slam them against the wall.
An unorganized, honest attempt at expressing myself.
At making sense of myself.
I dare you to tell me my worst fears.
Tell me I don't belong.
Tell me I'm too much.
Tell me you don't understand.

The memories cut, leaving me vulnerable.
I confess my wrong doings, my shame, my imperfections.

Everytime I write I stutter. 

I speak my truth.
And I want to fix it.

It can be better.

That's what my life has been.

It can be better.

I can be better.
And yet there's a voice in me that wants to accept me as I am.
I want to be as impulsive and imperfect as I am.

Is anyone else as confused as I am?

I feel like the unknown destination in front of me should be exciting.

Should give me hope.

But it gives me dread.

I fantasize about a life that isn't mine.

Toy with what self-acceptance looks like.

I never can escape 14 year old me.

The one who decided that starving herself was the way to live.
Limiting her food, bingeing on men.

And now I'm full of regrets.

I want to be someone.
I want to matter.

I cannot be no one.

Because then I will become as insignificant as I feel.

As deep as the hole in my heart is.

Wanting a father who could never be there.
And a mother who had no more to give.
And it's not fair.

And it'll never be fair.

Because the only person that can make it better is the one who caused it.

All I want is you to say my name.

To see me.
Everyone else saw me but you.
And judged me.
And I was this thing.
This beautiful thing.
That never amounted to anything.

Starved, abused, confused.

You did this to me and now I'm captive.

Held by your actions and impulses.

Held by your sickness and weakness.

I don't want to be a grown-up anymore.

I don't want to have to stand tall.

I want to be held.

I want to be safe.

But my soul is housed in a graveyard.

And my body is my enemy.

And my mind plays tricks.

You stole something from me.

I'm paying debt to your sin.

I will never be safe.

I will never be home.

I will never be who I should be.

Because I can never escape who you made me.

Compartmentalize

Compartmentalize
Feel your feelings
Distract, no distract
Cope, just cope
Be present listen to your tattered breath, feel the cool air, the rising in your chest
Maybe it's The XX
You're dramatic
No genuine
Racing thoughts tug at my eyes
Tears
No not now
You don't have time
Who's kidding you don't have the capacity
Weak
Strong hatred directed diagonally
Is this love or survival
How could you be so twisted
Is it me or is it you
How could you
I am strong, you are weak
But I'm at my breaking point
The cracks show
I'm not ok, it wasn't ok
Compartmentalize...

Shoulders Suffocated.

The bellow is me exploring my feelings about my body and what it means to have one in our society.
About being made to feel like a sex object everywhere I go.
Feeling like it's not ok to take my sweater off when it's hot out because of what I am then subjected to.
How I've been made to feel it's my fault that I get hollered at...or worse.
How it's my duty to put up with cat calls because I have a decent body. And it's my fault that men react to me.
I realize more and more that as years of unwanted advances from men pile up the more I want to hide my style and my body. It isn't fair. It isn't right. And it isn't my fault. And most importantly I shouldn't have guilt or be ashamed.

I have just started to see how fucked up society's messages to men and women are about men and women. And self worth. And self esteem. And more. I really need to do more reading and thinking to develop a solid opinion on this but this video and blog post began to help me believe it's not me that's in the wrong.

Stop Telling Women to Smile and An Open Letter to My Daughter: Your Modesty Is Your Choice.

sunny sidewalk
uncomfortably hot
smooth knees
unknowingly alluring neckline
shoulders suffocated
breath abated
music bumps
windows rolled down
suggestive slang
coil back at the vulgarity
leave me be
redirect
life changed
never ok
sex object
my being is no longer mine

self medicated
doctor's out
head hangs with the weight of it all
knowledge, shame, undeserved guilt
eyes averted
no one look
but someone see my pain

a chuckle
manly grunts
I see them seeing me
naked, vulnerable
I pull my clothes tighter
weights slam
echos reverberate my body
they get trapped inside my head
relentless is the panic
muscles tighten
my vision goes
my heart races
I see only shapes
are they approaching me
fight or flight
flight flight flight

My demon is me.

It is mine.
It was not yours.
And you took it.
It was sacred.
And beautiful.
I worked so hard.
I built it up.
I nurtured it.
I believed in it.
I learned to love it.
And with a touch.
You tore it down.
It it ruined.
It is afraid of light.
It is afraid of love.
It is afraid of life.

She shies at glances.
At the light.
At a simple gesture.
Hardens in the night.
Crushed inside.
Unable to breathe
Each breath is a silent scream.
Arms clutch her figure.
Trying to hide. To hold.
Protect.
It's too late.
She's been seen.

He's here.
He never left.
She's bare.
Unable to hide her rage.
No where is safe.

My demon has taken away my innocence.
My love.
My home.
My family.
And what I'm left with is just me.
And who I have to face in the mirror is my demon.
And that demon is me.

Unwanted Memories.

I am relieved I am home.
I want to curl up in a ball, cuddle with my cat, reflect on the night.
I was brave tonight. I didn't leave when my support system did.
I stayed and tried to make small talk and friends.
I drank more to feel comfortable.
I wasn't out of control.
I saw the kid that was so nerdy and so 'in love' with me and then I was embarrassed to talk to him. I was no longer the girl from HS. I was fat. I had no status. I was just me.
I made new friends and one of them drove me home.
I felt safe. I think he wanted more at the end. I didn't.

Now I'm stripping down. Getting ready for bed. Much needed sleep. So much for that workout in the morning.

And all I can think of is him.

He touched what wasn't his.
He ruined something pure.
I hate him.

I can barely move fast enough to pull on my top as though I'd be seen by him but it's impossible.

Still my mind wanders.

What if he walked in?

As my top is off and my breasts are free. What would he do.

I feel this overpowering urge to hit something. To fight back. To protect myself.

There's nothing that I need protecting from.

It's all in my head.

I live in this fear, this constant nightmare of being seen, being used, being innocent.

I wish it never happened.

I wish I knew what intimacy was and how to show love.

I watch movies and tv and get confused as to what is sexy. What is desirable. What do I want...what do they want?

I'm more fucked up than I thought.

Shouldn't love be simple?

One body moves with the other. You don't think you just feel.