Self Harm,depression, Suicide Quotes

Months

January. this was our new beginning, well 8th new beginning. Shaking from the summer evening breeze  I whisper happy new year to myself in a drunken and saddened haze, my vision clouded with unleashed tears. Happy new year babe you whisper down the phone line to another.  Sorry I'm late to call babe! It's okay, for that's what I always say that makes it okay. Right? January, the beginning of the end. Clenched fists, raised voices. I was enveloped in your natural disaster of a soul. January was filled with our thunder and lightning, for it was our new beginning but it was also our end.

February. Two weeks have passed since I last felt your hands searing  marks on my skin, never to be removed but forever there. Since I heard the soft melodies you whispered in my ear to stop my shaking hands and quaking heart. But I will never stop shaking when I hear your name. Two weeks passed n I still can't sleep at night, you're in my dreams. For they aren't really dreams anymore, some would say .. nightmares. You and her you and her you and her. The memories and words repeating in my mind like a record stuck in repeat. Never to stop. He brought me chocolate and roses for valentines. I thanked him with my body, all I am good for. You got mad. Raised voices, words spoken like knives. Aimed to hurt. The soft words you spoke to me afterwards, enticing me back into your suffocating hold. I never could leave you. February. the last time I ever let you lay your hands on my skin. Burning my body in the scalding hot water of the shower to rid my body of you. You never did leave me. February I tried to rid myself of you, but you never did leave me.

March. tears litter my face like rain, it's been one month since we last talked. I am surviving on coffee, but am I really? My bed smells of cigarettes n over priced wine, stains of uneaten food litter my sheets. when did I last shower? I'm wearing last weeks clothes, although the days all blend together now. I have memorised the patterns of my room. Counted and arranged everything perfectly. Your sweater stays curled on my bed as a pillow, collecting the tears that never cease to glow. I do not care for myself anymore, for I have no reason too. March, I sell my body to boys to be loved. The only thing I knew how to do. Cigarettes chain smoked and spirits drunk straight, classes failed n notes written. I believe I have no worth. March the month where I lost myself.

April my hands shake in his, they're too big to be yours. His hands are calloused and clammy, I wish they were yours. I kiss him hungrily to erase the thought of you from my mind. Feeding of another's soul to regenerate mine. As he whispers I love you I talk about the flowers for I wish I had not heard that. He should not love me. He's clumsy and heartfelt. Everything you were not. I miss the smooth hands, frightening voice reckless actions and cold heart. My Careless actions stained clothes blood red, you will not leave me. He brought me cigarettes, something has changed though. Piercing blue eyes now stand out, I see him differently. My curiosity has spiked as I watch from afar. April, your jumper is still my pillow but he is my goodnight.

May the boy with rough hands holds me as I cry, the storms have come again and it looks like they're here to stay. I whisper on his chest that I can't do this anymore, that was the last time I was ever in his arms. May, the month I broke his heart while trying to mend my own. I am the centre point from where his problems stemmed. Cigarettes are chain smoked and unforgiving actions taken. My hands still shake, I no longer have anyone to hold them. May, the month I moved your jersey into the back of my wardrobe to collect dust and destroyed my room for my life was not in order so why should it look like I was. Your jersey is gone and I can finally breathe clearly again. Your intoxicating smell no longer clouds my senses. May, the month where I took steps forward. You. I. Simple question and a spiral of emotions. May. The month where the boy who brought me my cigarettes, became the boy who I could not live without. My comfort. My warmth. May. The month where I found a little bit of myself again.

June 16. So much pain endured at such a young age. The day I had planned to go out, a clouded mind and incomplete thoughts. Swallowing words like broken glass, I do not speak my mind for no one listens. Tear filled eyes and a broken heart. 16. The day where my mother ignored me After shouting words made from razor blades into my soul. I could never shut her out. June the month where you hardly ever played on my mind, for he was slowly taking over my mind and heart. June. The month where the ice I had surrounded my heart in so it was not to be broken. Slowly began to melt. June, the  month where your jersey sits undisturbed collecting dust at the base of my wardrobe as his wraps around my body like a blanket, my hands no longer shake anymore. June, the month where you became a memory and he became my present and heart.

July brings death and brutality. I no longer feel safe. His arms call my name but my legs are weighted down by unseeable barriers. The harshness of your words crush my chest, I choke on the words I swallow down in fear that worse things are too come. July. The month where Ive fallen In love with the boy who captivated me from day one. My comfort my warmth. My heart. You are now a distant memory, no longer plaguing my dreams and taking over my thoughts. You have lost me. And I have lost you. And for once in 11 months, that thought no longer makes my hands shake and heart quake. For I lost you. But I have gained one of the best people this world has to offer. The storm has passed, and I am ... alive. July. The month where I lost you but found myself.

August. This is our new beginning. For this will be the last I will ever write about you, the past will stay the past and I will not venture backwards. August, the month where I said my final goodbye to you. And my warmest hello to the boy who has my heart