So.

You’re isolated now

Even going to the grocery store would be fun

And now that your thinking about it

It’s true what they say,

You don’t know what you’ve got

Until you lose it

You’ve collapsed within yourself

Suffocating and suffering

Isolation isn’t solitude

Solitude revives

Isolation kills

Look into the mirror

What do you see?

A plain girl

Brown hair and a smile

But if you look deeper

Past the makeup that holds her painted on rosy cheeks

Past the smile that is frozen on

Dive into the glassy pool

You’ll see the scars on her stomach and arms

You’ll see the sad brown eyes that glare back at her

Why aren’t I skinnier? She asks herself

Why aren’t I prettier? She says

Why can’t I be like the girls I see in the magazines?

The mirror holds a reflection

Of how you look

And how you see yourself

Hell isn’t a place you might go when you die

Hell is here, on Earth

Hell is a place that my mother dropped me off

And didn’t come back

Until it was time to go

Left me with my dad

With nothing to protect myself

Hell is a place where I accepted

The blood I made drip down my arms

And woke up crying because my body was on fire

Because of the pain I created

Hell is a place that I can’t escape

Dear Universe,

Fuck you. Fuck you for all the pain you have caused. Fuck you for all of the innocent lives that have been taken. Fuck you for the fires that have burned people. Fuck you for the rapists and murders you let walk free. For all of the unjust things that have happened that have passed without being punished. “Life isn’t fair,” they say. Well, you know what? It’s people like you that make life like this. There’s a piece of the universe within each human being on earth. And why, just why, would you let little kids be kidnapped? Why would you let drunken dads abuse their children? Why would you let teens who hate themselves slice their skin until they land in their grave? Please explain why you let mothers hurt their innocent little babies? Why is it every time I look at the news I want to cry? Why would you let people be so cruel? And why do they get away with it? Why don’t you do anything about it? Is this like some TV show to keep you entertained? Is that all we are to you? Fuck you. Fuck you for everything.

I want peace. I want hope and love. I’m not asking for a perfect world. I know death is a part of life. I don’t want evil people to walk away free. I don’t want toddlers to be abused. I don’t want teens to be homeless and cold. I don’t want people to suffer. I don’t want society to oppress those of color, or different religions. I don’t want girls to be scared to walk home. I don’t want people to feel ashamed because of their sexuality. There are so many problems I want to address right now. There is so much that I could blame on you, and so much I want you to change. I want to punch you in the face for all of this. I want you to fix it. Fix the things that you have destroyed.

Sincerely,

Me.

First off, happy birthday. You made it. You're finally 14. The only piece of advice I have for you is to take every opportunity. Don’t let what others may think, influence your choices. You’re only 14 once. Because when you look back, do you really want to regret things you hadn’t done? Sure, maybe you shave half of your head, and even if you regret it at that moment, you can still look back and say, “yes, I really did that”. Maybe you end up wearing an outfit that is fashionably questionable, but the thing is, you DID it, rather than sitting back. Take control of your life, your world, and live it. Don’t live your life for anyone else but yourself. Secondly, (yes, I lied, I have more than one piece of advice) don’t bully others. Be kind. Smile as much as you can. Make a strong group of friends that love you for who you are. Also, I know you won’t always feel like this, but you are beautiful. I know there will be days where you break down, and you hate yourself and the world, but remember you are stronger than you know, you’ll get back up. Happy 14th Birthday, make it the best one yet.

The best thing about being a child, is the color that simply pours from the world. The bright colors that ooze from the cracks in the sidewalk and drip from the sky. Imagination, thick within a child’s mind, shines like golden sunlight through a dark canopy forest. The more you grow up, the duller colors get. Gone away with garnet red, strawberry pink, and amethyst purple, replaced with foggy grey and ink black. Before life was drenched gingerbread brown, seafoam green, and artic blue, but as you get older, your eyes dull, your mind slows, and life becomes a numb cycle of work, bills, and responsibilities. Fingers stained with mulberries, lips red with taffy. A life filled with sweets, coating the tongue with sugar, so luscious and light, it leaves a coating as it goes down your throat. The white lace of a doll’s dress, the hazel wood of a toy truck. Life is seen through rose-colored glasses, tinted with happiness and innocence. Bright yellow daffodils shiver in the meadow. The memories of childhood, rusting away, as you age.

When I was 16, the idea of escaping was an exhilarating thought. It seemed so new, dangerous, and full of adventure, something my life was currently lacking. Life as it was, was so incredibly boring. But no one tells you that, do they? People always say, “Live life to your fullest” and “life is so short” but they never do anything about it. They stayed confined in their own box, their own little world, complaining, and living their same old tired lives. The possibility of running away, of traveling, of finally taking grasp of my own life, was the most exciting thing that I had ever thought of.

It was a destructive thought, though. I ran out of money pretty fast and had to quickly succumb to life on the streets. The adventure had lost its luster. Before the thought seemed so shiny and exciting, I couldn’t fathom where I had gone wrong.

When I was 17, I had seen things no teenagers should ever see and lived through things no teenager should. I was no longer a little girl, with bright eyes and a happy face. I was dead tired and scared, my hair was thin and ratty, and falling off. My body, once full and strong, was now deteriorating and my bones were poking out, like pins inside of a rubber encasing, poking father and father out. My face was sunken in, I looked like one of the monsters from the horror movies my friends and I would watch at sleepovers.

When I was 18, I died in an alleyway. I died in the rain, with my clothes sticking to my body, and I died shivering. I remember thinking that this couldn’t be how my life would end. Alone. Hungry. Scared. I thought of my mother. Hugging me, cheering me on at basketball games, making me cookies after school. Why had I left home again? I thought of the day I ran away. I remembered how I laughed as I got on the bus and sat in the back. I remembered how I used to love the rain. I used to be so happy. I used to be alive.

The turquoise water glitters innocently. The quiet shushing of the waves meeting the sandy shore could lure you into a deep sleep. The velvet blue sky seems to melt into the end of the water, dripping color into the crystal sea. The bright crescent moon hangs adjacently to where you're standing, and if you tilt your head, it almost looks like the infamous Cheshire Cat grin. Everything about the water seems so peaceful and amicable. The harmonious crickets chirp in the background, like the swell of music, before the storm. You take a couple of steps into the water, and the iciness of it shocks you for a moment. The temperature seems strange, in contrast to the warm humidity of the summer night. You wade in further, up to your knees now. You can feel the sand squish beneath your toes, and the slimy seaweed begins to wrap around your ankles. The coldness doesn't shock you as much, your body is beginning to succumb to the numbness. You begin to get so deep, you float on your back, and the stars look so plentiful and bright, they look like a child's art project, thrown silver glitter on a piece of paper, soon to be forgotten and abandoned. Your eyes close, inevitably, and your body begins to sink. You're wrapped in water, it incloses you. The water rushes in through your mouth, nose, and ears. It curls around your lungs like vines, beautiful but deadly. You should be frantic, flailing around, clawing at the water, trying to pull the weight and survive, but instead, you sink further. The weight of the water and lack of air pushes on your lungs, making them feel like collapsing on one another. At last, your mouth opens, to utter your last words, but is silenced by the water. Up above the water's surface, nothing as changed. The crickets chirp continue chirping, the moon shines, and the waves in the water continue to pull itself further upon the land.