The Things People Don't Touch.

My Body

Can you stare at me with your eyes?

Can you hear my real laugh?

Do you watch the discomfort behind my dark glossy brown eyes?

My eyes are dark brown almost black as the night, but as brown as the dirt on the ground. The dirt that sprouts the flowers in my soul. My heart are red as roses that will be sold by the dozen. Some have died off some have lived. But what comes with Roses are thorns. The thorns that tears love apart making me lose blood. Blood as thick as sweet honey. Dark as blackberries. I lose blood at the same time I lose the ones I cherish. Love is such a mysterious word. We use it every day.

Do we even mean it sometimes?

We use words like we use our bodies. We say things we don't mean. We express with our lips. Some lips are as dry as the desert, while others are as wet as the beach. My hair is like the waves in the ocean. The ocean is crashing and making huge waves. My hair is a huge storm. The ocean is soothing and calm. My hair is as beautiful as a rainbow. My hair colors change twice a year. A chameleon changes color based on its environment just as I do with my hair. The color of my skin is caramel. Sometimes I'm soft and chewy while, Other times I'm hard all around. I try my best being the sweetest candy but my brain is hard as rocks. I've been through a lot. It was as soft as silk. I can't express to you what I've been through. It's as if the greatest storms in the world coming together as one and destroying everything in sight. As you watch families dying left to right with nothing in sight.

Would you hide from the storm?

I didn't hide from the storm. This is how the roses in my heart die by thinking of the past. The past me was a sad girl who would hold her tongue till her face turns blue. I couldn't think, I couldn't express, and all I could do was be awake. The nerves will be fried to a crisp as I try to gain energy, but at the same will be losing it. I try to remake myself but not change myself. The rest I can't keep up. I won't give up. I'm by myself in my body, in my soul, and in my world. My body and mind are not completed yet. When they're completed, I'll have my whole life ahead of me and know what I'm doing. I got this. I will never give up even if I want to so badly.

Depression

It's a lake that calls to you. The dark cloak from a grim reaper covering your whole heart. Making you shiver in the cold murky water. The sadness is a deep dirty lake. You can't see the bottom of the lake cause the guilt in your heart, but you don't know if there is a bottom. As you take your first step into the lake, you go straight down. As you take your last breath, you sink down into the depth of the depression. People think you look alright on the outside but on the inside, there is no one home. It's like a Godiva chocolate bunny; sweet on the outside, but empty on the inside. People think giving me medicine and sticking me in the hospital I would be cured. I think it doesn't help that much. They think my demons will go away, but only a few will stay. A few you say is like a few clouds. They are still there, but you can't see them.

Why can't it just be a clear sky?

I hate this feeling. I don't want to sink in this lake as I claw for the light trying to swim up something grabs me and yanks me further. I always try to find the light. The light never tries to find me and it's getting harder to reach as I sink. I'm sinking in the Titanic when it hit the glacier. Only a bit of myself will survive the tragedy, we call death. What is left is all the pain of the survivors, but the stories of the love. I see my young self-hiding in the corner. Remembering how quickly we had to mature. To hide the pain, no matter the price. If I could tell one thing to my younger self. I would express in the most delicate voice "It's ok to cry", but knowing myself I would shout "NO, it's not." I'm scared of myself and what I could do. I'm the enemy of my body, my heart, and my persona. It's killing me to see me. I will forever be clean as a whistle. That is the hardest part not to sink. To sink in the world, I would never fall in love with unless I didn't want to feel anything at all. It happens all the time when I don't feel anything. I don't know what to do when it happens, but I do know I will become myself again soon. I want to see me be truly happy again. The past was in the past if I go back, though. There is no turning back. Depression is a bitch.