Some words

My lungs are on fire and my mind is filled with distractions, 

Oh why, God, why do I have to sleep alone? For I fear my distractions are like a transparent mask when I pull the covers tightly over my face, my demons still find their way into my cold and lonely bones. 

And this is why I need the accompaniment of others, because only I can prevent forest fires, but only with your guiding hands to stop my chest from burning like a bonfire. 

And it seems like when I'm trying to impress other people, the match is lit and it's under control. But when I flip the switch on my bedroom wall, the light ignites and the reflection in my eyes from my tears only seem to make it spread, burning the tips of my fingers, causing the match to fall and ignite the floor beneath my feet. 

The only problem is, my demons are fire proof, and their weakness is you. So when I'm around you, it's like you put out the fire, and silence the screams in my head even for just one second. 

"But you seem so happy around me!" That's because I AM. And I'm sorry for burning up the whole house, but I just don't want to be sad anymore. I want to be happy. I want to blow out the candles on my birthday cake and not have to worry about the wish not coming true. I just want to be sure of something for once. I want my lungs to breathe in oxygen, and not be suffocated by the smoke of my fear. 

Needles

It's like every night I open up this page to say something new about my unhappy state of mental illness. I try and find words to express how I feel but they all sound the same at this point. And all I'm searching for is some person who cares. Someone who understands. They don't know how lonely it is to be a kid. They can't see me under my blanket fortress the so built around my bottled up screams. They can't hear my bones tremble as I am forced to lay on the ground thinking how much easier it would be if I just accidentally died. Not by my own hand, but if I actually just died on accident. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. 

Night thoughts

Its 2:00 in the morning and I'm giving up. 

Truth.

They say it's easiest to quit smoking after the fourth day of being smoke free. 

I'm hoping the same standards apply when it come to you, because your eyes are like nicotine, as addicting as a cigarette, and I need to quit before it kills me. 

My lungs are a dry forest, and your smoke hitting the ground will set my pine trees on fire, and for some reason, I smell tobacco between my fingers..

Dear Tyler:

I just wanted to say thanks for saving my life every day. I can't even begin to count how many times I think about taking my life every day, and every time, your words have helped me back from the ledge. And I know my demons might not seem like much to people who see me, but my demons are at the center of my heart, and they keep getting bigger, and my heart is about to burst. And sometimes I feel like a kitchen sink. Nobody else knows what that means. But I do. So thanks again, Tyler. For saving me. 

Sticks and stones and my schizophrenic mind.

I wish I was better at letting go. And I wish I could scream at your face, YOU WILL NEVER CHANGE, AND I AM LETTING GO.

But I can't even go 24 hours without a failed attempt at contact, and I'm losing faith. I don't feel holy anymore, and I just want to be loved. 

I hide behind the tears of a clown, and I can't claim "I'm extremely jealous of your happiness," because I can't be taken seriously. Like my mental state is a joke. Or that it's funny that I get trapped inside my brain when I'm alone at night. 

I'm really sad with people always picking me up not to take me with them, but to move me to a darker corner of the room. I just want someone to pick me up and squeeze me as tight as my nine year old sister does when I leave for work every morning. I want to be as happy as the people around me. 

Freckles

I really struggle with not just calling you to tell you I love you. Because I don't know what I'm more afraid of: getting no response, or hearing you say it back. 

Giving in, or giving up. Either one.

I need you, and you need me. We just need each other in different ways. It's almost like I have a piece of your puzzle and you have a piece of mine. And I think we need to swap places for just a second and finish our puzzle, because my puzzle is a heart, and without your piece, it's broken. I've done things I couldn't ever confess, and without that piece, I know I'd do it again. And you see, the problem here is that I'm in love, and you are not. And I love the way you can get the best of me, because what are best friends for, if not to

I feel great.

I really do. Because though duct tape can't fix everything, it can definitely numb the pain for a night.