Long distance means nothing to me. 

When I was a child, I had a friend who lived in China.  I am not exactly sure what made us start being friends. I just know that nearly everyday I would try my hardest to stay up so that we could talk. With me being in America and 15, this was not always an easy feat. Still I considered this young man to be my brother. 

He was the kindest person I knew at the time. Even though we could only talk maybe 30 mins or so I still looked forward to our talks. 

Eventually I lost contact with him. I do not know the reason or even when we stopped talking, just that we did. 

I still think of him. He helped me through so much in life. 

I can only hope that he knows I still love him. He was the brother I did not get to keep. 

I love him so much. 

And miss him all the more.

A random status update

I have never been good at dealing with the death of a loved one. I have often found myself to be the only person openly crying at funerals. As everyone is floating around and celebrating, I was always the one calming talking to the body as though they could still hear me. The one everyone felt that needed to baby due to my delicate nature. 

It is funny though cause I actually celebrate death. I do not pretend to be happy with a passing. Instead I let myself feel sad. I do not hade behind perfect smile and tell everyone thanks for coming. No I kneel and allow the person I have lost know I love and will always remember them. I celebrate death once I have grieved.

Not to say smiles or laughter at a funeral should not happen cause they should. I just don’t do it. 

I am not very religious, but despite how some of my poems may seem, I love religion of all kinds. Including Christianity.  I may not follow all the teachings but I do not find it horrible. 

So I can understand how something that is something  we need to sing about. 

I am just quieter…..

Still….

I wish people would stop seeing my tears as a weakness. I wish they would talk to me. Let me tell them that sure I am crying, but I will be on in time. 

Why do people hide death from me? Treat like a little flower who needs to be protected? Has anyone read my poems and stories??? Seriously, I will be ok. Just give me time. Let me vent, let me grieve in my own way. 

Just Saying: The Story Of A School Shooter. 

CW
This is not a poem but instead the ramblings of someone who has had enough. I remember once in high school, I was sitting at my desk when a girl turned to me. She had the most disgusted yet curious look upon her face. I had never really spoken to her before outside of a few hellos and “Here pass this up”, but today she decided to hold a conversation. 

Apparently I reminded her of the type of person that was capable of killing people. It was due to the people I hung out with and the fact that I always looked sad. She then told me that if I had plans to shoot up the school that she rather I not kill her and try to clean up after myself. Basically to shoot people but remember to kill myself afterwards.  She then turned to her friend who in turn stated asked me why I waited, that I should just skip the dramatics and kill myself when I got home. That way they didn’t have to deal with me anymore. 

It was always funny how one was telling to hurt people and then myself yet the other was just like ‘Don’t hurt people we prefer you just off yourself’.

It hurt, of course, it hurt bad. I had never spoken to these girls before and after that moment they proceeded to make my life hell for a few months. 

I had a certain ‘look’ to them and yet they still bullied me. 

I did not harm anyone in that school. Until that moment, I had zero plans to. After awhile I begin to hate people and truly wish I had the balls to destory everyone. 

I love how everyone says that it gets better once school is over. That those four years won’t matter when you are an adult. You will look back on that life and be proud of what you have overcome. The pain you endured that made you stronger. 

That is a fucking lie and we all know it. To some high school was the golden years. To others it was a constant reminder of just how much of a failure they are. Some people raise up and become better while some are still treated like shit. I am one of those that is still treated like shit. One of the kids who had the ‘look’ and still amounted to nothing as they aged. 

Friends are better made online. People are never to be trusted. I may not have destroyed my school or killed myself as they suggested that day. But each day I live is only a punishment for myself. They moved on to better things. A good college and career. Some are even marrued with beautiful children in a wonderful home they own. Some died but are remembered as these amazing people. I am sure that at least one person struggles but they don’t show it. No, they show how good they have it. 

I am the type to feed off of their painand suffering. When their facade melts away I am the one person there to view it. There pain brings me pleasure. Yet I still suffer alone. Every day I continue to live a life I want to end. I always made up some sort of excuse to stay alive.

Currently I only have one and even that is starting to get old. My few pleasures in life are just sitting and watching others crash and burn. 

To be honest…I wonder what would have happened had I taken her suggestion. Had I blown that school to shit with everyone in it. Would it have made life easier? If I wasn’t caught I bet it would have. If I had instead decided to kill myself as well. Taken everyone out with me. Or what if I had just sat there in my home alone and finally slit my wrist. Maybe took a pill  jumped off a bridge. I thought about going some place exotic and getting lost or going on a boat and jumping off in deep water. Watch as people frantically tired to get me out. Slitting my wrist sounds good but lacks the same flair. Unless I was able to watch through the haze as my father stood over me in shock. I would love to see him show the world just how much he hates me one day. 

My whole life is a mistake and  I am forced to live it. I want to die but can’t. Just stuck in this eternal high school mentality that I will never amount to anything and nothing in life is proving different. 

There are times where I wish I could have been a school shooter. Maybe everything would have turned out ok. 

How to ignore those around you

CW: abuse, rape, children hurting. 

(Please be advised and head my warning. )

Father helped to poison me

As we build forts with bloody sheets.

Pile of pillows staind with tears

Turn on the radio

(It helps me pretend this isn’t real)

Loudly sing for all to hear

They smile at the sight we make

Daughter

Father

Picture so fake.

Daddy helped me to poison me

As I lay in bed looking at trees

Leaves sound out across the wall

Music playing down the hall

(I listen because it help me to sleep)

‘Take as long as you need’, they sing

Dancing not caring what midnight brings

Daughter

Father

A kiss goodnight

They ignore the screaming 

Music brings a new meaning

Louder, louder, louder

Teaches them to ignore

All the little girls cries

Behind the closed door.

Blocked Heart

In my home there is a closet that houses the true me. The side not many see for fear that they will leave. Inside this closet, so tall and dark, lies a chest where I have locked up my heart. I pass it often to and hear the beating within. I ignore so my true self won’t win. See it wants out. It is not afraid. It wants to show the world who I truly am. I fight everyday, trying to keep it all inside. Making sure the key is always in my sight. One day I got distracted and someone wheedled themselves in. Took my heart from me and tried to keep it with them. I tried to fight them hurt them in every way I could. But they where strong and never gave up. They say my true self and never judged. Oh did it hurt, to be this bare. To have someone know, to have them always there. Always watching, always listening, always talking, so much noise. I felt like I lost a life I never allowed myself to leave. The true me was content though; my heart was loved. My body may have felt shamed but my heart was loved.

To this very day I fight them. I want it back, while I am happy, I still crave the hate. It is easier to bear. Easier than dealing with this unknown love and having someone there.