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

Friends

Friends
Where are they

Are they found in the
Fake
Surface relationships
Of the people
We randomly meet

Are they found in the
Random
People
That attend
The same school as us

Are they found in the
People
Who we
Sometimes call
Our friends

Are they found in the
People



I never finished this poem...and I have no clue where to go from here...

Wishing

*note to readers*
This poem was written during part of the healing process from the SI. I kind of wrote about my pattern and what I would do. Some of this is exactly what I did while some of it comes from friends stories.
*end note to readers*

The razor blade
Slides
With a will of its own
The skin
Separates
Slowly
The blood
Bubbles
Through the space
Then
Trickles
Down my arm

I watch
But it is not my arm
You see
It’s not mine,
Not until the pain comes

Then
Then the arm becomes mine
And I realize what I have done
The blood flows
I quickly grab some
Toilet paper
And press it against my skin
The toilet paper turns red with my blood
But I am alive
I know this…
I know this because
Dead people don’t bleed
The bleeding slows
I remove the toilet paper
I begin cleaning the wound
I’ve done this nearly every time
I’m no even sure for how long

Good it’s clean
Now for the gauze and tape
And on top of that the wristband
No one will ever know
…sigh…
Now there is relief
All I have to do is press on it
Ouch
But dead people don’t feel pain
And that is all I need to know
--for now

A Rant

I am so confused…
A friend telling me things
That I am not sure if I want to know
She comes to school stoned
And tells me about the
Bowls (of pot)
That she smokes
And the
Boats (of ecstasy)
That are going to be at the party
Then she tells me
About a prank she is going to pull
She says she is going to tell this guy
That she is pregnant with his kid
And just use it to play a practical joke
And then she
Mentions
That she was pregnant
And had a miscarriage
And then…
She says she’s been pregnant
THREE
Times
What do I believe?
I just don’t know…
I am so confused
How do I deal with a friend like this?
I just don’t know…
Is she making it up?
Or telling the truth
Why did she never tell me about the miscarriages before?
Why?
And I don’t know what to do
Because I really care about her
And I don’t want to see her doing these things
But I don’t know if there’s anything I can do to stop her
Tears come to my eyes
As I think about her
The things
That she’s gone through
(If she’s telling the truth)


A scary thing
Is that sometimes I want to join her
I want to…
Be with her at these parties
I want to smoke a joint with her
Just once…
I want to know how it makes me feel
I want to know why she does these things
I want to be able to understand where she’s coming from
But at the same time I don’t ever want to do what she’s doing

I am so confused
And I will say it again
I am so confused
I am so confused
I am so…
And you’ve probably heard it enough
But it’s the truth
I don’t know how to deal with this
I don’t understand
Why she feels the need to do these things
(I couldn’t with *name ommited for privacy* either)
At least I know now
What she’s doing
And can understand
The physical part of it
But I have no clue
What’s going on in her mind
I just don’t understand
And I wish I could
Even just a little bit

And I wonder if it’s possible
To know
Even though I don’t
Truly understand
I’ve never been in her place
Never had someone
Hurt me
In such a horrible way
But if I had
Would I choose to try
To block all those memories out
And fill my life with
Meaningless things
To push those horrible memories
Out of my head

But for now I am stuck
Not knowing
Not understanding
And remaining confused

So maybe I will talk to some people
Maybe I will get some advice
From *name ommited for privacy*
Or *name ommited for privacy*
Or *name ommited for privacy*
Or *name ommited for privacy*
Maybe they will be able to help me
Understand


As of now
I feel
numb
And absolutely
bewildered






some changes May 5, 2008