"The Bridge"

I don't really know what I want to do with this page, I started off with just wanting to be a place for me to post my poems, but I am not sure now. I don't really want this to be just a blog either though. Like I said, I have no clue what I want. But right now I just want to write about a documentary that I went to last night. The documentary is called "The Bridge"

*taken from the website www.thebridge-themovie.com*
The documentary was very interesting, I went with my RA, one of the sophomores from my floor and a couple of people who my RA invited to come along with us. The documentary was very touching and it really made me think. I wonder how many people we walk by or stop and talk to each day who are contemplating suicide, or feeling depressed, there has got to be a lot. Anyways this post isn't going to be mainly about that, though it was what let up to what we were talking about on our walk back. On our way back from the documentary my RA was talking to one of her friends, another RA from a different floor, and was talking about how we had had a movie night in the lobby and hadn't known what movie to watch and she said that one of the guy RA's from our building had told her that she should play "Wristcutters: A Love Story" (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0477139/) because he thought it was so funny. She had decided against it, because she didn't feel that the movie was a good one to play (which I am so thankful for). She was talking to her friend and was telling her about how one of her friends actually "does that" so that is partially why she didn't feel comfortable with the movie.

But anyways, I am thinking now that I may just be able to talk to her, she has someone who she calls a friend who harms themself. Maybe she understands. This really made me excited because now I feel more comfortable telling her.

Anyways I should go work on my paper and studying for my test.

Emmy R.

some poetry from today

*note to readers* so I am feeling a little stressed out today, I have a paper due wednesday and a test on monday, and I am also stressing about other things. Let me give you a little background to these poems, not this past week but the week before I made an appointment at the counseling center at my college because I want to learn how to talk about my history of SI with other people. I just want to learn to tell my story. My RA has been to some counseling sessions at this place as well and she is kind of the one who encouraged me to go (she mentioned one day that she was going there and i asked her about it so that is why she knows that I am going) anyways, I am not sure if i want to go back, though she is encouraging me to go, but it is really a very scary concept. I am off to dinner now, later! *end note to readers*





Worried
Worried
Worried
About what I have done
And what others would think about it
If they knew
I went to a counseling appointment
Because I want to learn how to tell my story
I want to be able to help others
Through their own suffering
By telling them about mine
My parents would freak
I am sure about that
What would everyone else think?
Would they agree?
Would they call me a psycho?
Maybe I am a psycho,
But I’m not,
I have stopped
But was I?
Was I a psycho?
Was I a psycho for doing
What I did?
Or did I only do it out of necessity?
I have no idea…
I have no idea…
I have no idea…










*name of my RA, removed for privacy*,
I want to tell you why
Why I really haven’t made the appointment
To go back to *name of the counseling center at my College*
I am scared
Scared so much!
This guy, a stranger
I told him so much about myself
If I make another appointment
When I arrive I am scared they
Will call a cab
To take me to the loony bin
Because who does what I did?
Cuts themselves to rid themselves of pain
I must be psycho
Right?
Right?
I know I must be right

But…
He didn’t treat me like a psycho
He treated me with a ton of respect
He acted like he understood
He never called me crazy
So why should I be scared
That it would change if I go again?
I am scared because…
What if it does change
What if he had a change of heart
And decided that I am a crazy person

I make myself crazy by worrying about this
It felt so good to release
To tell someone the things
Which I have held buried inside me
The fact that I used to harm myself
To deal with the things going on in my life
I wanted, needed, a physical pain to help me cope
With the emotional pain
Which I didn’t know how to express

I just get so nervous,
He is a stranger
I have no clue who he is
And all he knows about me is what I tell him
He doesn’t know anything else
And to tell him would take forever

But if I were to tell you, *name of my RA, removed for privacy*
I don’t know how you’d react
You have told me
That you are here to listen
And that you won’t judge
But what I have done is something
That so many people already have their judgments about
What if you already have judgments that you have made
About cutters
And then I tell you,
And your judgments surface
And you just don't understand
You don't care to
Because of your preconceived notions
I love you already; you are such an amazing person
I don’t know if I could deal with that

I just don’t know.
I don't know
I don't know
I don't know

Pictures

So I was bored, and I decided to go through my photobucket account and post some of my favorite things that I have saved on it.































So there you go, a whole bunch of pictures…

Oh and just so you know…I never know when I am going to be writing a new poem…many times poems just bubble out of me, and I can never really chose when I want to write one, at least not a very good one. But I might go through more older poems and type them out some day when I have more time…

Emmy R.

I Wonder

*note to readers*
I am not sure when this was written, it was just on a random sheet of paper that I found in the back of one of my journals...
*end note to readers*

I wonder
If I told you
About the stupid decision
I made
How would you react
To the fact that I did it
When I said I wouldn’t
Would you be hurt?
Would you be angry?
Would you speak to me again?
Would you grab me
And hug me
And tell me it will be okay?
Or would you
Look at me in disgust?

I don’t know if I should tell you
You’re leaving tomorrow
And you’ll be gone for a few weeks
So I guess
I guess I have a while
To figure out what to say
When I had the chocolate on my
Arm
You asked “what is that”
It was so close
To the cut
And I thought that is what you meant
And I was almost relieved
That you’d caught me
But then you pointed at the chocolate
And I realized
You hadn’t caught me after all
And again I somehow felt
Relieved
Because I can continue living
My L I F E

To tell or not to tell
That is the question

My Writing

*note to readers*
This is another poem that I have no clue when it was written, I believe that this one was within the last year.
*end note to readers*


My writing
Is a way
For me to understand
What’s going on in my life
A way for me
To
PRIVATELY
Organize my thoughts
When that privacy is
Breached
I lose myself
My one thing I can call my own
STOLEN
From me
My words,
They are mine
Why can others not understand
Some things that are written
Aren’t meant to be read
Except by the writer
The written word
Is so powerful
Sometimes when I write
The words are caught with the moment:
Deep, rich words,
Full of anger
Full of lust
Full of joy
The words hold only truth
But the truth
Held in emotion
Passing
Fleeting by
And then it’s gone
And all that’s left is the words


If others read them
They won’t understand
They’ll take the words literally
Instead of just as emotions
The words can cause worry
When none is necessary
And scare
With no reason

A Battle

*Note to my readers...just in case anyone actually reads any of this*
This poem was written fairly recently, as you can probably see from the date this was written on. I was having a rough day and the concept of just going back to self-harm seemed so wonderful and it seemed like it would make my world so much better. It was a hard battle but I did not end up harming myself (which I mention in the second part of the poem). I am very proud of the fact that it was hard but I made it.
*end note to readers*

I sit
I imagine
Sharp, silver blade
Blue veins showing
Through my pale skin
Silver presses against white
And makes red
The lovely crimson red of blood
And I imagine
The relief I would feel
The rush of it over my whole body
My problems would melt away

But no
I won’t
I don’t need it anymore
I have better ways to deal
Now
I won’t
I don’t need it anymore
I don’t need it anymore
I don’t need it anymore

Rampant Emotion

Rampant emotion
Completely out of control
Unstoppable, it seems to be
Running unchecked
Through my soul
Causing extensive damage
Irreparable, it might seem
In a wild storm,
Damaging everything
Rampant emotion