is what I fear most, when everything fades into the silent caress, of my deepest, darkest. secrets. I have known all along that what awaits and what writes the ever boastful obituary of my innermost thoughts is depression. Sometimes I feel wonderful. with him; A LOVER -- only when he's gone it twists into a gruesome face with knots and a menacing feeling like swallowing a dagger pulls me under and forces my very breath from my lungs. like. nothing, will. ever. make me... happy I am back this time i'm not going anywhere. ----------------EDIT------------------------ sometimes i wonder how my life will be or would have been if i had died. if i had just suffocated. let anoxia take me over. but i know that's just silly to dwell on bad memories of the past. I am confused... What is the date? I guess I lost track of days when they started melting into nights alone with my lover. When things are innocent. unsure fingers graze skin so white. tremors are what those fingers feel, it is like walking into the dark. something so frightening about giving yourself to someone yet something that feels so right, so sinful that it becomes paradise. I guess my problem is that I am afraid to change. I want to rewind to when i was fourteen, listen to the p.a system once more. But now? now...everything is different, the people, the places, the feelings. I don't want those memories to fade away, lose them forever. I want to re-live that time in life when things were so utterly and completely different. from what they are, NOW. -------------------EDIT--------------------- Okay third edit. 3 poems later. I figure I should bare my soul on the internet. On November 15th 2004 I attempted to fly. suicide is an ugly thing, I still have the scar from where the rope bit into me. And the permanent brain damage. that causes my defficiency in mathematics. I know that i had friends, i had my vices, but at that point I didn't really care. My parents were oblivious as ever to my little stunts as they called them. I kept a journal. a very PERSONAL;PRIVATE;journal. that was taken from MY backpack, and passed around a circle of shrinks and nurses, and pigs and parents to read and mock me. My dad says Mum has never been the same since that faithful day. my attempt at flight. I harboured a strong resentment against quite a few people at that time, I was angry at my Father for not being strong and going back to the bottle. I was mad at my Mum for not being there for me at such a turbulent time in my life. I was mad at my best-friend in the world for not caring about my problems too, for being so god-damn selfish! Most of all I was mad at myself. for being so timid, hiding my problems with a blade a bandage and an attitude, for being so naieve. for being so abused, and for wanting to be used by anyone. You must understand I have never admitted that to anyone but it feels so amazing to have released it. Sometimes I miss cutting. I miss the blade biting the flesh, my flesh and the shocking crimson flow that smears my once white as paper skin. I was told when I was in the hospital that if you cut for a long period of time, those feelings take some time to dissolve. well, well doctor it has been FOUR FUCKING YEARS!!! sometimes my infatuation with sharp objects gets the best of me, and i stare obsessively at the shard of glass, or the broken plastic, longing to...release tension that i am feeling. When I was finally done with the hospitals, I had a new house, because a month after my "Leap of faith" our old one burnt to the ground. my mother cried about her fucking cats that were stuck in the fire. I had a new school. They wouldn't let me back to my school, so I didn't attend class, I rebeled for a long time. until I met him. The most wonderful man in the world. the day to my night. I could never top the love that I feel for him. if I fucked it up and lost him. I'd fuck myself up good. I'd do it slow to teach myself that I will be no more than a fuck up, what i've thought all along, so that my mother wouldn't even be able to recognize me. He gave me a new outlook on life, one i like. He taught what it was like to love someone, and i need his morphine drip. it keeps me alive. He smiles and it is like nothing else, he makes me feel like I am standing on the top of the world. I quit most of my bad habits for him, I have been clean and drug-free for almost two years now. I owe him my life. It hurts me that he worries about me cheating on him, or that I will stop loving him, because I want him to know, that he is my everything. my reason to live. -----------------------EDIT------------------------- To reiterate my lust for self mutilation, at one time or another cutting was my only love, but sometimes although I seem to be doing much better now, I sometimes can't resist the feelings. the urges rather to open my skin, and feel better, but I think about the reprocussions, the scars that I already have versus the blood, how can I explain all the new crimson stains? the reasons that I wince in pain when someone touches me. more importantly, I can't hide anything from him. He knows my body like the back of his hands. So I haven't actually given in to my temptations, although I have been rather close. You might say "just across the street" [a bit of cutting humor there] I have seen things that no young girl or teenager should ever see. But I can't help but wonder what life or lack of would have been like if I had made different choices. If I hadn't tried to kill myself that day or if I hadn't snuck out that time in grade 9. one thing is for sure, i never would have met him. these are thoughts that need be forgotten. Night