“Distance, like the stars from our Earth, the very same distance from my heart to yours.”

The twinkle in her eyes isn’t from stardust, diamonds or pearls; Her eyes shine from her own wonder, her curious nature for everything around her. A polished stone set in metals pales to capture the allure her eyes hold, for her eyes are to alive for such similes to hold a sliver of justice.

She is not a star, some solar entity floating in space, whose light takes lifetimes to reach those around her. She is home, in that comfortable sense of belonging to something that means everything. She is the familiar creak of decade old stairs in the way her smile crinkles around the edges of her mouth, she is both the soft touch of pillows you used to build forts with siblings and the firm cushion that captured so many tired tears…

A stare from her is the reflection you saw in the mirror when you were 10, before the world and the nightmares turned all thoughts dark and your image into a shadow, something to be feared and despised. She isn’t…she wasn’t just some pretty face, some human body to pass the time with, to float through life with. She was…brilliant in how she tricked a boy into loving himself, into thinking he had a real shot..I can never hate her…I can never hate anybody because she made me focus on me..and now I can’t look away, but I don’t like what I see..and she isn’t here to quell my demons, and I’m so tired of living in the dark…I’m tired of fearing death and fearing life, of being empty of anything aside from fear..I’m running on autopilot, and I just can’t do this anymore..I need someone to save me..somebody please tell me they can save me..

Every day is a cloudy day when you can’t even be bothered to open your blinds.

I love the smell of water in the air. It’s so fresh, and it makes the air feel soft as I take a deep breath. That scent adds some sort of fluffy tail to the lasts wisps as they trickle in, tickling the back of my throat, making my lips curl towards the sky. It’s amazing how different my entire body feels when I’m wearing a genuine smile. It’s a feeling I recognize and cherish.

But just as quickly as that familiarity invades my bones, it also begins to seep right back out. That smell of water clicks with other wires in my brain, and I’m rushed into a common scene; me, in front of my bathroom mirror. My clothes lie all around me, and my eyes are focused only on my reflection. I’ve done a good job hiding the scars for years and years, but I can’t hide them for more than a day from myself. And the image I see in the mirror, it always hurts so much…

I love the smell of water, because I love being in water. I love swimming and floating in a lazy river. I love cannonballs and diving into the deep end and going down the waterslide 1 million times. I love playing catch, making insane dives off the pier thanks to the soft landing the water provides. I love relaxing on the beach, sprawled out on a towel, working on my terrible tan lines. I love chowing down on watermelon and popsicles and cans of root beer. I love all of that…I loved all of that…I loved the water when I was a kid. I looked forward to going to Turkeyfoot Lake every weekend. I couldn’t wait to spend an entire day swimming, followed up with barbeques and backyard baseball. I loved catching fireflies at dusk, and lighting sparklers when it finally got dark. I loved my summers.

I loved being in the water, so of course I love the smell of water. But now those memories make my stomach cave in, because I know what will happen now, if I tried to relieve any of those moments. So many questions would be asked, and I wouldn’t be able to answer more than a few.

“When did this start?”

Before my first trip to the lake, I was already cutting, but I was just starting. I made sure to keep things small and in more hidden places, like my thighs and legs, places people wouldn’t see so readily. I already understood at 9 exactly how fucked up this shit was.

“Why did you start?”

I don’t have a good answer for that. The best I can do is this: I started cutting after I stopped peeling my skin and biting my nails. I would pull the skin from my fingers in 1st grade, I remember. I peeled that skin until they would all bleed, and it drove my parents and teachers insane. So, to avoid being yelled at, I progressed to more subtle, accurate methods. A pen prick here, a tiny slash there. It was just easier to maintain.

“Why do you feel the need to hurt yourself?”

Does a cut hurt? Honestly, I don’t know. I’m sure a deep cut would sting. I’m sure if somebody stabbed me, or a samurai sliced my stomach open with his katana, I would be in pain. But these little lines running the length of my arm? Those don’t hurt. They are shallow, hardly breaking the surface. They look worse then they are. But to answer your real question, I don’t know why I feel like I have to hurt myself, especially when I know my scars will hurt others much more than they hurt me. Lately I think it’s because I know the more scars I have, when someone finally does see them, they will see so many scars that the hope they can help me will immediately be lost. Basically they have become a sort of insurance, a fail safe to ensure that I fail.

“Why do you want to fail?”

Because I want to die.

“And why do you want to die?”

Because I can’t fix me. I can’t fix who I am. Dying won’t make up for the horrible existence that is me, but I can’t make up for it by continuing to live either. So my choices are to either keep going, or call it a day. I need to call it a day. It’s what’s best in the long run, for the world and me.

“Then why are you still alive?”

…because no matter how hard I try, I can’t completely give up dreaming that I’ll find a way out someday…

“So what will you do next?”

I’ll think about change. Then I’ll talk about change. Then I’ll plan some changes. Then I’ll make some changes. Then I’ll slip up. Then I’ll slip up again. Then I’ll give up on changing. Then I’ll find myself at the bottom again, in awe of how the bottom just keeps getting deeper, and I’ll start the whole process over again.

“And what happens, when the bottom never comes?”

It will mean I’ve either grown some wings and taken flight, or I hit the bottom, broke both my legs, thus making it impossible for me to ever climb back out.

“And when you can’t climb back out?”

I stay down there, and I starve.

“And then?”

And then…. I can finally accept myself…. and I will finally be able to die…

Come join me on Facebook!!

I have made the decision to finally create a Facebook page to help spread my blog! I currently have “0” likes, and I don’t see that really changing beyond a few people. Still, I think it’s a space where better conversation can occur (I read every comment I get, but I’m not the best at always responding!)

If everyone could do me a favor and please share my blog and Facebook page with your family, friends, or strangers who look like they’d enjoy a trip through my head, I will be forever grateful! And while you’re at it, please also follow me on Twitter!

http://www.facebook.com/thatlittlelightfromyourlampshade

Twitter – taylorfinn0810

My body is ash, saturated gray, invisible on cloudy days, and blown apart with a single puff of wind.

Now, right now, I cannot focus my eyes. They water in the bright light, damaged by any image aside from the pitch black. My feet are cold under my white and gray socks. I am shaking. I feel sick. I want to run, far away, but find myself captured in a million different social situations. Talking; I can’t do it. My mind draws a blank as my dry mouth fails to produce a word. It’s strange; I fear being alone like this but cannot stand looking at anyone else. A broken mirror, which is what I am. Shattered, unable to find any hint of what I once truly was, only these pieces that could be from anyone, anything…

It takes some time, and then some more time, and even more time, and even more, more, more… I just have to believe it’ll get better in time.

There was a girl I loved, in a way I can’t really express in words. More than just pretty, beautiful, stunning; she was light itself, curving around galaxies to catch my eye. She had the kind of voice where you never deleted her voicemails – no matter what she had to say, it was something I wanted to live. I never felt like I had to pretend, so I would say every joke that would come to mind, and she would laugh with me and laugh at me. For the first time in my life I could smile to myself, knowing someone adored my terrible British accent and was impressed with my encyclopedic knowledge of all things Hayao Miyazaki.

Not every moment was perfect; fights happened, and we both cried, tore up our throats as we woke up every neighborhood stray, went to bed after a sunrise wishing we could take back those words, as if they were accidents. Words are deliberate, and nothing can be erased, but everything can be fixed. So maybe we weren’t always perfect, but every moment, the highs and the lows, as long as they were with her it was still magical.

Perhaps I’m placing those feelings onto high a pedestal, and maybe I’m just seeing things in rose-tinted glasses, but even knowing everything I do now, with 20/20 hindsight, I wouldn’t change the course of my life – Because if I did, I probably never would have met her, and everything else could have ended up the same regardless. So even knowing how this ends, I would still pick her all over again…I’d pick her over me Every. Single. Time.

It’s not that I dislike silence, but sometimes I wish I still had the strength left to scream.

Sound is so light, breathing like a morning cast in fog

Hold your breath now and wait for the fall

All along the sweet castaway, sweet darling of mine

Watched ever so quiet in the back of my mind

 

Sound is so soft, breathing like a mouse in the walls

Hold your breath now and wait for the fall

All along, these lights that surround me

Are they lights to guide the way or lights to set me free?

 

Sound is so bare, breathing like a broken clock

Hold your breath now and slowly turn the lock

All along these sweets that I desired

They taste so bitter, bitter pills from bitter liars

 

Sound is now gone, breathing alone in this empty room

Hold your breath now; it will all be over soon

All along, you longed for that sweet embrace

Silence wraps its arms around you and begins to take you away