5:29 AM Easter Sunday 2015

I haven’t slept and the supplements really don’t work. I can’t really have justly expected much, either, because nothing really works for me.

My body doesn’t work
My lungs don’t work
My brain hurts
My chest stings
Everything doesn’t work

But I cannot cry and call myself the victim
For although it’s twisted,
This is fate
I am a pawn in it’s hands
it’s twisted, yes, but so am I.


It only seems fitting;

I wish I could write (beautiful) poetry 
Or make art. 
But those are beautiful things 
And I cannot do beautiful things
When I will never be beautiful myself

My mind is dark
And overpowered by self loathing 
I want to be good
I want to be that girl that everyone loves 
Whose beauty everyone envies
Whose modest confidence radiates 


But my mind is dark
and I’ve become terribly bitter 
My own face scrunches up at my ways
Everyone agrees that I’m a terrible person

I was not made for this world 
The one with people, at least


People, I cannot connect with 
I am too far gone and too irrational

I feel connected in the wild;
The sun warming my skin in moderation
feels like the only hugs I have no discomfort in,
the winds are the only soft caresses I’ll allow,
the sights of the forest and it’s creatures 
Are the only eyes I can unwaveringly look back into. 


I belong in the wild

When I go it will be in the wild
I will break free

I was not meant for people
Or interactions
They want beauty;
That I cannot give. 
My bitterness has overpowered me
And one day I will return to the wild
That is what I am
That is where I belong
this body was a grave mistake
And I will return
Rotting and transforming in the ground. 
Only then will I be at peace.