it grows in you like fresh moss,

tangled and chaotic until you forget

where your own roots begin and its end.

its leafy vines steal your water, but they grow so

lush and vibrant that you don’t realize.

not completely. you feel your body losing its lifeline,

but suddenly you're too tired to do anything about it.

some people only see some a bunch of moss,

but others, the ones closest to you,

implore you to manage the overgrowth.

but by now your heart is overtaken by the

invasive species, its gnarled vines twisted around your bones.

an invisible master leaving you no choice but quiet submission.

day by day, you let the dark moss consume you.

you become a mere host,

your only purpose to water the plants

until one day,

you just can’t anymore.

I, Kaytrine, accept myself to be my companion in the journey of life.

I promise to allow myself to learn with time.

I will not be my own bully,

and drown myself in my mistakes.

Instead, I will be my own supporter,

and lift myself in my victories.

I promise to love my body.

I will adore the vessel given to me,

maintain its parts,

and drive it with great care.

I promise to nurture those who love my soul.

I will respect the souls that my heart adores,

and admire those that my heart finds worthy.

I promise to always be changing.

I will never stick to the same river,

I will never be one state,

I will always shift forms.

I promise to keep moving.

My feet will not be idle,

My thoughts will not be stagnant,

My soul will always run.

I, Kaytrine, allow myself to live life.

As painful as it may be,

As beautiful as it may seem.

Until death do my body and my soul part.

if only i had taken one more

one more pill

one more and it might’ve

worked

i tell them i’m better now but

i’m so much worse

but “fake it till you make it”

has been my lips’ only truth

i don’t know why i called the hospital when i

couldn’t breathe anymore

i didn’t want to

if only i hadn’t

then maybe i wouldn’t have to still

be here

day after day

minute after minute as i become n u m b

to the pain

i guess now i’m just waiting

until i’m too numb to dial 911

until i’m too numb to think

until i’m so numb

that death will be just another normal day

ocean. the water reaches just under my chin as I climb to the surface, only to be pulled back under. confession:

I am afraid of the water. I am afraid of the force that it carries, the weight that it holds, the children it has dragged

deep beneath itself. I am eight years old and drunk on sunlight and the beach is the closest thing to love

that I have ever experienced. brave moments bring me out into the current and humiliation drags me under again.

it's fear that guides me, always- fear that holds me fast and cradles me like so many waves. you are looking within all of this,

trying to find driftwood to hold onto within this lukewarm saltwater I bathe you in, and I give you this answer- it is the fear of drowning

that keeps me afloat. it is the fear of darkness that brings me light. it is the fear of death that gives me life.

I float, an empty void, except the streams

Sounds are muffled, thoughts stir together

I watch the rivers of color drift by

A particular stream has flown further from the rest, and it grows darker and darker every second.

It swerves suddenly,

darting back to the colors

It taints them, a raging current now

It grows and grows, drowing everything

I scream, I am drowning.

I sink, my thoughts escape me, my sanity leaves me.

The darkness takes over,

I lose the light

My mind covers in shadows

The thoughts consume me

And I cut myself from this world

To save the others from the streams.

I silence myself

To hide the others from my pain

come with me

and i will prove to you that

there is

so

much

more to yourself

than what you see.

I've followed you through the dark,

for you are the

light

at the end of my tunnel

and without you

i would

never

have escaped its

shade.

I guess often those who

light

up the darkness

are so

blinded

by their own glow

that they can never really see how

beautiful

it is

and as you are the

brightest

light

of all,

you are the most blind to your own worth.

As you led me through my

tunnel,

i will guide you through your own

and i promise

no matter how dark it gets

no matter how dim i may seem

that i will be your

light

till the end.

my words do not want to be devoured.

they sit like green bean casserole on your otherwise-empty plate,

asking to be picked at, played with,

eaten in small and delicate bites.

they do not apologize for what they are-

you may find them unappetizing, or simply boring

but they ask only to be read, and later digested,

perhaps leaving you with a somewhat pleasant feeling.

I cannot ask for even this-

-my words do not beg to be liked.

they do not stand up on stage and scream

I-LOVE-YOU, they do not wait for applause,

and perhaps you will find them discarded in the pit

after the orchestra has left.

they will not become youtube sensations,

they will not go viral- perhaps they will not be read

by anyone except for you.

so if you happen upon my words,

pick them up. keep them to yourself,

hold them for a minute and then

blow them into the wind like dandelion seeds.

perhaps some of those seeds will reach soil and grow.

perhaps no one will think they are beautiful.

perhaps my words don't mind.

as I gaze upon this ghost town

we created, I can’t help but wonder,

what was it all for? did we hope someday

to build a metropolis, but stopped halfway?

did we forget to invite people in,

did we lose ourselves

in the planning of it all?

looking back on the blueprints

I see now that we wanted too much

too soon. I spent so long

looking ahead that I forgot to consider

what we would do if it failed,

forced to live in our burning town,

which crackles quietly, crumbles gently

and collapses upon itself. smells less like

arson and more like missed opportunities,

more like those times I could have held you

and begged you to stay, or when you could have

comforted me when I needed you most.

and yet, in spite of everything,

I don’t think I could go back and do it all again.

that is what you want: you want a fresh slate,

but I don’t have the energy to build temporary houses

from straw and mud and everything breakable.

in spite of everything,

I do not feel regret. it isn’t what we wanted,

but I am grateful for this pile of ashes

and broken dreams. it cushions us

as we lay motionless, together yet

so far apart.