HERE WE ARE.
how do we look, Adam?
Now that you're gone
do you see us for what we are
or do you
(perhaps)
see us for only
how we treated you?
(it was unfair)
oh, adam, so unfair.
But YOU were unfair.
MEAN
to my brother!
my best friend!
the only person I can
undeniably say
I. Would. Die. For.
(well, maybe Hanne too, but DAMN you left her in such a GREAT position)
hey,
did you ever
I mean, like, EVER
imagine what it's like
to announce to 100+ adoring kids
(and parents)
that their "beloved" swim coach
decided to off himself.
WHAT. THE. FUCK.
Seriously.
How could you do that to her?
Hanne.
HANNE.
hanne.

and yet
i cannot hate you
because i understand.
i know how it feels
to want to die
more than aything
else
in
the
world.
to sleep forever = eternal bliss.
eternal bliss = feeling nothing.
i can work with that.
but you -
so much to give and yet
all i can think is how sorrry i feel
because everyone treated you like shit
like the friend that no one wanted
and fuck it this isnt a poem at all and i dont care but i need to get this out because no one ever dares to say it but everyone say it i mean damn adam, most of the time i didnt know why all my brothers were telling me to not like you but thats the thing they really were telling me it was just kinda this feeling but feeling is the wrong word - i guess this stigma? stigma is also the wrong wrod. i dont know (not that i know a damn thing to begin with , but thats another issue entirely) - see. the thing is, i understand as much as i dont want to understand i understand. because no one really liked you in that group, far as i could tell you were always the friend that  no one liked and i didnt REALLY know why but i just went along with the group mentality because why not? i was young. it was easier that way high school is bulllshit. and im sorry. dammit, im so sorry. for believeing everything my brother told me about you because i know sometimes you were a fucking jerk to him but i also know that mainly came out of jealousy. and trust me, i know jealousy. wish i didnt. i try to deny it like its my job, but it resurfaces anyways. im jealous of my boyfriend, the most wonderful, caring person ive ever met. and that makes me resentful. omg, shouldnt i just be happy for him no matter what? because i love him, i do, oh go i do. more than ive ever known anything else in this world, i know that i love him, whatever love is - and i dont know what love is, but i swear when i hold him and he holds me and we cant really describe it but we both just keep holding harder and closer and tighter because we might be one I'm not sure even that isnt the right description - but the fact that i cant put it into words...thats what makes me think its love. my heart is turning somersaults in stomach acid. no matter how much pain we cause each other, every moment I'm with him i think "damn...we are so fucking lucky"

he thinks the same.
what we feel, this thing beyond words, it's too beautiful anf perfect and wonderful and dream-like to throw away.
i swear.
finally, i have opened my eyes to see what i unknowingly opened my heart to months ago.
please please please just don't let me down
cause a
"love"
like this -
well, it IS love (not matter how much you HATE calling it that)
this love
or
this thing between us
(if that makes you feel more comfortable)

well,
damn.
we are crazy to throw away something so beautiful.
why do i need to drink when i have you?
oh. if only i knew.
oh. if only
oh. if,
oh.

I have a mildly unhealthy relationship with food, but its better than it used to be. I like being skinny.

I have alcohol issues. (shit, this could be a whole category in itself)

I cheat on boys. Even when I love them. WHY?

I don't have very much self-control. I tend to go for instant gratification, sometimes without thinking about the consequences, sometimes ignoring the consequences, often times not knowing what the consequences will be. It's instant, so I don't really think about much at all.

Sometimes I think that if everyday is going to be a struggle like its been for the past year (even though I'm "better" now, its still a struggle every fucking day in my head) then I don't see the point in living, because I can't live like this forever, with this much inner turmoil. It's just not worth living like this. I think that, sometimes.

I self-sabotage. OFTEN.

I'm addicted to cutting. I'm trying to recover.(this could be pages and pages too). I don't know why I cut but I have some theories.

I have anxiety. Only ever had one full-blown-need-to-call-911 panic attack though.

Sometimes, I like to be alone and wallow in my pain.

I have trouble waking up in the morning.

I have trouble going to sleep early enough at night.

I can't seem to get up on time. Or get to class on time. Like, ever.

I drink too much too often.

I like reading poetry.

I love lists. I like making them. I plan my day in lists, and when I have a list of things I need to do for the day and I know that everything is on there, I feel much much better. Even if I haven't gotten a thing done yet.

I like solving crossword puzzles everyday in the DTH.

I don't know what love is, but I know that I love Jo.

I have a horrible temper and raging anger. Often, this makes me violent. I am violent a lot of the time.

My mood is constantly changing. Sometimes, I feel like I run the entire gamete from suicidal to blissful, perfect love all in one day. Other times, I feel numb, nothing, dead.

When I feel dead on the inside, I have to do something to make me feel alive. Like HAVE to. Often, these are reckless, dangerous, and unhealthy behaviors. Often, I regret doing them. But I do them anyways because I have to have some way to silence my Invisible Monster. (I really should give her a name bc Invisible Monster is awfully long to type, but I haven't found a fitting name yet)

I want ass when I'm drunk. I want ass when I'm sober. I'm just generally a very sexual person.

I've had sex with boys that I don't care about. Thinking about it often makes my stomach topsy-turvy.

I recently cut myself so bad that I needed 8 stitches. I've been clean of cutting since mid/late January with the exception of once at the beginning of August, and this time.

I've been wanting to cut lately, really really bad.

I wish I was an artist. I wish I had taken art classes as a kid. I think I could have been pretty good, but now I feel that its too late.

I should be more concerned about my Elementary Education shit. I really should be.

I like bright colors and ridiculous clothing items. I try to pretend like I don't care about how I look or how others see me, but thats complete bullshit. I like to look fly. And when I look good, I know it.

I wish I was an Indian Princess.

I like dressing up in costumes. I like hanging out with kids. I like body paint. I like face painting and body painting and drawing on myself or anyone else who will let me.

I have a tattoo. I want another one.

I don't know what the fuck I want out of my life. or my relationship (lack thereof)  with Jo.

Love is my kryptonite.

I love/hate drugs and alcohol.

I wish I smoked cigarettes because they make you look so damn suave.

I want my room to reflect who I am. And look really badass so that people think that I'm really badass and cool. I like things that look cool and have colors and patterns and stories behind them. I try to collect these things so that I will impress others.

I love modern art. I could eat that shit for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Sometimes, I hate technology. Computers, email, cell phones, blah blah blah. Fuck it.

Sometimes, I love technology. Google, wikipedia.

I wish I could play an instrument. or sing.

I very much want to be artsy/musical or something like that.

I want to write poems and I want people to read them and love them.

I don't know if I'm scared of rejection.

I like reading stories. I like reading some fucked-up shit, too. And poems. I really like reading poems.

I love all things royal purple.

I FUCKING LOVE GLITTER.
pretty much that goes for all shiny things
I swear, if I could get glitter tattooed all over my body, I would.

I feel like I'll never have the emotional capacity and abilities of a normal person, and that scares me a lot.

Goddammit, I'm jealous of Jo.

I think its really un-fucking-fair that I have whatever the fuck is wrong with my emotions and other people don't. It sucks and I don't like it. Take it back please, God.

I don't have a good self-image.Or so I'm told. IDK what the fuck "self image" or "self confidence" really means. I mean, I've always thought of myself as a confident person. And not fake facade-like confidence. There are things about myself that I really really like. But "evidently" I have a shitty self-image. But I think that's just because everyone else doesn't see the ME that I see. If they could, they would realize they are the ones with the wrong image of me.

I want to impress people with my tastes in art and music and my knowledge of books and other obscure things.

I like vintage. and tye-dye.

I'm questionably straight. And I'm perfectly okay with that.

More than anything, I want to know why I don't think I'm good enough or worthy of Jo. And why I cheated on him. And why the fuck his dad doesn't approve of me.

I like tattoos and piercings. They calm the Invisible Monster considerably.

I don't know what the purpose of this list is. No clueeee why I'm even making it.

I have no idea what I want from my relationship with Jo. No. Fucking. Clue.

I procrastinate. I wish I didn't.

I wish I could learn to fucking wake up on time.

I cry a lot. But over legit stuff.

Writing poetry...well, writing in general is my outlet.

I lie to my therapist and I wish I didn't, but I'm afraid she's going to judge me and lock me away somewhere. I wish I could change therapists so that I could start fresh and just be straight up honest about how fucked up I truly am.

I SWEAR I think I'm BPD. I just think my therapist doesn't know because I'm not honest with her about everything. I so so so wish I could be. But its so fucking scary. Not just with her, with everyone.

I NEED TO FIGURE OUT WHY I CHEATED ON JO.

I need sleep.

Sometimes, I wish I could sleep forever.

I fucking hate this gray, cold, damp weather.

I like hats. I like looking ridiculous and making it seem like I don't give a shit what I look like.

I have scars. Lots of them. Mostly self-inflicted.

I don't know what the hell to think about Him. And that he's dead and he killed himself and all of that. A year and a half, and I still don't have a clue what I feel about it. That has to be a problem. I don't miss him as much as I used to. I have this nagging feeling that I missed something in the grieving process. or something. I don't know. It just doesn't seem right. Something's off, but I can't put my finger on it.

Ok AA, I get it, but where is CA?? (cutters anonymous)

I have an addictive personality. Whatever that means.

I'm totally addicted to being beautiful, yet I also hate my beauty. Go fucking figure.

As if it's not already totally obvious, I am a hypocrite.

I'm obsessed with appearing "unique" with a certain image and certain interests.

I don't know how I feel about my past running "career". However, not knowing my feelings seems to be becoming a theme. hmmmm interesting....

Some weird sick part of me wants people to ask me about my scars. Just fucking ASK!