I want to know you

I want to know you. Learn of all your little things. Please, open your heart. 

Let me in.

Tell me about how your family blames you for everything that goes wrong. Tell me about the time you were five and you lost your shoe. Tell me about how sometimes late in the night and early in the morning you lose yourself. Tell me how you're scared of spiders and falling in love. Tell me how  you love the water and music that is too loud. Tell me how you eat your sandwiches and make your coffee(one sugar or two?). Tell me how you miss the people that have gone away. Tell me about that time in the dentist office you laughed so hard you almost swallowed the tooth they were yanking out. Tell me about your favorite flower. Tell me about the day you couldn't stop crying. Tell me about the demons that haunt you, the ones that carved those lines into your skin.

Tell me about the ex that broke your heart and the one you're still not over. Tell me about the time you went to the beach and stepped on a jellyfish that washed up onto the shore. Tell me all of the hilarious drunk memories you made with you friends. Tell me what you think about. Tell me how you learned to ride a bike; trembling and fearful. Tell me about your first time. Tell me about your favorite little cafe and how you get the same drink there every time you go. Tell me how much you hate spinach. Tell me of the song that gives you goosebumps. Tell me about the shittiest concert  you've been to(you still loved every moment didn't  you?). Tell me about the day your grandpa died. Tell me how you're still not used to him being gone. Tell me how you miss him. Tell me about the time when you were ten you first kissed someone. Tell me how much you love pizza and hate sushi. Tell me about how you chew your fingernails and shake your leg. Tell me how your heart beats faster when you walk into a room of people you don't know. Tell me how it beats faster when you hear my name. Tell me about your favorite book and how it makes you shake with anger and cry from joy. Tell me about every little part of you. Tell me the words you're scared to say. Tell me you love me. Tell me. 

Tell me everything.

her ghost, his mansion

and i cannot compete with her ghost.

she haunts his mind like a mansion long abandoned,

stirring its contents into a whirlwind of miserable anger and tearful why's,

tearing down its walls and ripping open its floors like they were his heart she destroyed long ago.

i try my best to repair the damage;

picking up the broken pieces.

but you cannot repair something that refuses to let you inside.

home

hearts are like homes;

they can break

and shatter

and turn to ash,

to nothing.

they can be hollow,

empty.

or full

with regret

and sorrow

and pain

but,

they can also be 

whole

and beautiful;

full of love

and care

and peace

all of this

broken or whole

empty and bitter

or

whole and beautiful

all of this

the choice of its owner.

Just for you

     Your eyes open, your heart pulsating in your chest, your lungs collecting and dispelling air.

     You're alive--physically.
   
     Mentally, emotionally, you're a step away from death. Just barely clinging to existence. Your feelings consist of a devoid air most would consider empty, but not you. No, not you. You know empty all too well and this slim air contained in your soul is not empty, just barren of any consciousness, any emotion. It's back. That feeling of hopelessness, loneliness, nothingness. Depression. Far from sadness. Far from sanity. You climb into your cold, slender bed alone, too many thoughts pushing themselves against your head, creating the constant throbbing migraine that never seems to cease. You shrivel into yourself, your rustled movements reverberating through the silent room you call home. You try to find yourself in the darkness, failing you flip onto your other side, then onto your back. You can never decide what you want, even concerning the most simplest of tasks. It's devouring you whole. Every part of you is consumed by it's constant presence in your life, in your body, in your mind. You try to fight. Every day, every night, you fail. You just can't seem to help yourself and constantly give up, thinking this fight is impossible.

     You're wrong.

     Depression is a sickness inside you. Inside your mind. It convinces you to your very core you have no hope, you have no future, you have no home in this world and no one. It's a monster trying to drag you down into the pit you have dug yourself to curl up and die in. But you don't really want to die. You don't want to suffer like this. You want happiness. You crave it more than society craves success and acceptance. You think it's unreachable. That you cannot obtain the dreams you've dreamed of for so long. You think you'll never conquer your fears this sadness has created, that you will never amount to anything or anyone, that you don't matter.

     You're wrong. 

     You can defeat this disease of the mind, body, and soul. You can make your dreams reality, you can be happy. You can. All you have to do is discover hope. Discover faith. Embrace them both and never let go. All you need to do is find yourself. Accept yourself once you do and never allow the negative thoughts to creep into your mind and overpower the positive. I'm not saying this journey will be easy, I'm not saying you won't relapse, that you won't cry or try to give up. You will, I know you will. But I also know how much you want this. You desperately want happiness, and that's how I know you will not just give up, curling into a ball of disjointed disbelief and grief. That's how I know you will make it through this. You are strong. Your soul is strong, and your mind. You think you're weak but to survive this monstrosity is one of the hardest struggles in life you can face, especially on your own. But I believe in you. And I love you. So darling, have hope. Grasp happiness and live.

Chanceful Change

Chanceful Change

Crumbling hope,

Diminshing smiles,

You're lost inside yourself.

The darkness grows,

Demolishing the essence of life;

Of light.

You grapple for a sense of security,

Purpose.

You find none.

There is nothing.

Only you.

You weep,

Wailing for help.

You are given none.

Alone in the bleak dusk,

You whisper,

Praying,

Crying,

For something.

Anything.

A chance.

A change.

But only you can save yourself.

Only you.

Hope

Running, running, running. There's no escape. You can't breathe. You start to panic. What do I do, you think to yourself. There is no hope, there is nothing. You crave freedom, sunlight, fresh air. But you're stuck in this miniature corner bursting with stench and failure, sobbing silently as you cling to yourself for some comfort that never comes. You start to pray to a God you never believed in, hoping he will forgive you for your neglect and ignorance. You curse when nothing happens--exactly what you expected. You scream to the heavens you realized aren't in the sky but in the arms of the lover you lost long ago. You have nothing. You become a pathetic ball of self-pity and deprecation. You pull out your gun covered in grime and blood of the fight fought before. You straighten your clothes and brush your tears away. This is all that's left for me, you tell yourself. Death; the only escape you can find in this dark hole. You cock the gun, readying yourself for what crime you will soon commit. Your hands shake and you sweat. As you slowly hold up the gun to your head, pressing it so gently against your skull, a strange peace overwhelms you. This is my destiny. You gingerly lay your finger on the trigger, but it slips off due to the sweat perspiring from your jittery hands. Can I really do this? Be this selfish and uncaring? Yes, you whisper to yourself. Yes you can. You hold the weapon tighter, setting your finger back onto the trigger that will soon lead to your demise. You take a deep breath and... Boom. Light spreads throughout the room and you drop your gun to shield your eyes. Someone, something, drags you out of this cornered cage and out into the light. You sob in relief, glancing up to see just a shadow beside the sunlight and trees. The shadow moves, kneeling down next to your torn, tattered body then you feel it's hand on your forehead, then neck, and wrist. It leans down farther, and you see the face of your lover, come back to save you from the hell they shoved you into you. You cry harder and grapple onto them, you hold on then slowly pull away as they come closer, leaning in to kiss you. You let them, feeling their soft lips on yours; you have your heaven back once more.

CNF: My face (old)

Always changing eyes beginning at the blue of my great grandfather’s, then morphing into a stranger’s color. Thick eyelashes concealed by mascara surround them; brown eyebrows arched at the right point above. A small, childish nose stuck in the middle leads down to a straight, pink mouth full of stories,secrets, and silence.  Strangely attached to that mouth is a birth defect come to life, starting at the corner of my mouth and trailing down towards my neck. A slightly wrinkled forehead connects to a mane of different colors and shades. Covered by that mane are ears, gauged and pierced in defiance. My face is beautiful in its own way, or so I am told. My face, plagued by a birthmark, is otherwise “beautiful”. But in a way, that mark defines me. It’s a difference from normality, as is the rest of me. I am Callie Ollie Gail Atkins, and am proud to be so, and look so.