At my bedside there is a journal that I've had for four years. The pages are filled with items from my highschool career, notes from friends, plane tickets, drawings, and the obituary I cannot bring myself to let go of. Most importantly are the entries I've written. In the pages are everything that has affected me. A detailed account of losing my best friend, then the two years later when we finally made our peace. A timeline of my mother's progressing illness and the ways it has affected me. Several poems about my highschool crush and his belief that pedestrians have the right of way, and one entry about how he nearly killed the two of us. I have written about how I have fallen in and out of love with myself like how the seasons change. I write to keep from all the pain from welling up inside of me.

Sad souls seem to love the sea.

I once read a poem about why the ocean was blue, and nothing else I've ever read has ever felt more true.

When sadness feels endless, fathomless. When it touches the horizon, you begin to drown in unknown. Uncharted waters, if you will. It all seems like too much.

The weight is too heavy.

But in the water, the weight is different. The water wears the weight of the world for you, and you're able to move freely. It gives you a sense of freedom, and a sense of longing because you know when you leave the water, the weight will wear you down once again.

Sad souls seem to love the sea.

If you ask me, it's as if that's where heavy hearts are meant to be.

I melt into the water, and it engulfs me.

I don’t have to wonder who to be.

I lay suspended in silence.

I don’t miss sound’s absence.

I can just pretend everything’s okay.

I won’t become worldly prey.

I swim under the surface like I’m flying.

It’s like therapy-I’m forever undying.

Aren’t you scared?” they ask, “of sharks?”

“Aren’t you scared of murderers?”

I’ve hit the mark.

The rippling surface like a stained glass window.

The waves rise in perfect crescendo.

When I emerge, I’m not scared anymore.

Because I’m not quite who I was before.

After a long, restless night, my frail hope was fraught.

And I began my day with a terrible thought.

Even though I knew it was a sin,

I was going to do myself in.

But first, I was going to have to decide

exactly how I would commit suicide.

I could slit my wrists with a razor blade.

I could hang myself with a noose I made.

I could shoot a vital organ with a gun;

if my aim was good, that would get the job done.

I could walk in the path of a vehicle or train.

I could not wear a parachute and jump from a plane.

I could swallow a hundred prescription pills.

I could go where you can't survive without gills.

I could imbibe one poison, or another.

I could insult a body-builder's mother.

I could leave my eyes open when I sneeze.

There were so many possibilities.

Because these choices were weighing heavily on me,

I chose to eat before I became an absentee.

Well, once I ate pancakes I saw more clearly.

I comprehended that I loved life dearly.

So after breakfast I took a long, hot shower

and decided, from now on, I would not cower.

Then I slipped in the tub, and hit my head.

That, Saint Peter, is how I wound up dead.

Baby I tried

Baby I cried

But you still just think the same

And baby you lied

Baby I died

But you still dont know my name

But baby lets ride

Baby lets ride

While my mind stays so tame

Baby lets ride

Baby lets ride

Whys my heart in your aim?

Today I blew

away my true

coat of yellow.

Float, dove, mellow,

lie upon

my dandelion.

I’m pounding on the glass until my fists bleed. I scream until my throat tastes like iron and I cry until the ground around me turns to an ocean of my pain. Nothing does what it’s supposed to. Every help only doubles the hurt.

No one reaches out to help. No one asks about the pain I try and show them. A black hole of emptiness opens in me and everything I loved is unceremoniously thrown in until all I am is what I am afraid of most. It’s quite a long list.

And all you see is a composed girl with nothing beyond school in her head. If only you knew how big my demons were.

"Cover your ears, son." I said as I began to cry.

Because in my head I knew that we were about to die.

"Dad, whats going on?" The screams began.

"Just cover your ears, bud." I picked him up and ran.

The screams so violent, so loud, my ears began to burst.

The pain so bad, I fell and feared for the worst.

My son fell too, and on the ground he laid.

When the ringing tunes in my ears began to play.

"Dad, get up! Whats wrong? Cant you hear me?"

I stared in his eyes, this fear I remember clearly.

I couldnt hear, the screams so loud.

Until I saw his mother standing tall and proud.

"Run, Jason run!" I yelled with a final breath.

I stood and I knew, this would be my final step.

The ringing in my ears, she ripped away my soul.

The cost of love is too high, I paid this at the toll.