Excerpts From A Book I'll Never Write

Broken

***DISCLAIMER: This poem contains graphic content that ranges over many topics such as rape, popping pills, self-harm, eating disorders, and mental disorders.***

    That autumn hurt the most. Sitting in the dark, I found myself broken in pieces on the floor among the tissues already littered there. Forever losing track of time, my tears hit the pillow with intent of causing a never-ending flood. As the saltiness of my tears hit, a sniffle managed to escape against the darkness. Hours upon hours were spent lying in the the pitch black, my mind wandering to the darkest corners, finding the dustiest filing cabinet there is and emptying the contents for me to see. Never had I realized that this would happen to me. That autumn I learned I have depression.

    Eventually, my parents realized not everything can be fixed with a hug and a kiss. I saw another therapist, tears in my eyes when I told her just how broken I really was. The pain tore away what once was beautiful, leaving a hollowed out stranger I had never even seen before. Hours were spent explaining just how hard it was to wake up in the morning...how hard it was just to lay in bed  the middle of the night... how every time I closed my eyes, all I saw was the carpet beneath my bed. How all I could hear during those dreams was his heavy breathing, his telling me he was almost finished.
How all I could feel was his hand around my throat and the feeling he could rip me in two. I sat up at night contemplating something, something that could've destroyed anyone near me. That autumn I began popping pills.

    No matter how hard it got, I still remember every little detail. Those sleeping pills become my closest, dearest friend.
One pill,
Two pills,
Maybe three will cure the pain.
The more pills I took, the less cares I had for the world. No one knew just how many it took to make the hurt and frustration disappear. Just enough to get through the night, but I could always feel the overwhelming pain. When I awoke, I hid behind a smile; one nobody could see through. The pain was my own crushing secret. If only I had told someone what I had planned. That autumn went by slower than expected.

    Suddenly, my parents seemed to care less.
One pill,
Two pills,
Three pills,
Four will do the trick.
Popping pills until I couldn't feel anything anymore...still didn't stop the demons or even the memories I fought to escape. Hallucinations kept me company, for they were my only companions. "Maybe I should cut the dosage back." That would only cause more pain. Those hallucinations costed me my friendships, but, hey, at least they understood my pain. The demons were winning. That autumn caused my destruction.

    Autumn turned to winter, and my demons became a roller coaster. It had its ups and downs, twists and turns, flips and sways, but it finally stayed under control. "One pill a day," I would tell myself. "No more, no less." Some days, I began to miss the hallucinations, and the comfort they gave me because at least they understood just how painful demons really are. I don't see them anymore. Maybe this was worse than my demons ever were. That winter taught me to be strong.

    Thick snow coated the ground, and the wind bit sharply at my exposed skin. Passing cars blared their horns, seemingly worried about the teenage girl walking...walking for no apparent reason other than to find another cure for her pain. I pulled my hood up, shielding my face from the cold bitter wind. My uniform clung to my skin beneath the over-sized hoodie. Long sleeves and pants protected the scars buried deep within my skin. What they couldn't see wouldn't hurt them, but it damn sure could hurt me. That winter I learned how to keep secrets.

    Coffee trickled down my throat. A nibble here, a nibble there...only eating when I was alone. Starving myself through the day because some woman on the street told me I could never fit in the dress I saw in the window. Through the tears and grogginess, a gentle voice drifted through the phone. "You're not alone," the voice whispered. "I will help you through this. This isn't the end of the line." Wrapping myself in the largest hoodie I owned, I listened to that voice sing. I fell into a deep sleep, and the nightmares didn't creep up on me. I felt safe for the first time in so many months.. That winter I found comfort.

    Gentle and quiet, the voice carried sweet sounds...sounds of singing and whispering. I could hear the smile in his voice, the caring nature drifting from his mouth like a breath of fresh air. We spent hours laughing together, exploring the topics of burnt rubber and just how deep a swimming pool goes. We would laugh and joke for hours on end without a single care. The demons only prodded at night when his breath would slow, and his singing would cease. That is when I could cry out in pain. If only I had told him how much it killed me that I couldn't share the same vision of happiness. That winter I became aware of compassion.

    It took months of working it out, months of practice and patience, months of hurting and irritation. Although it was never easy, I worked my way through until it came to the day my strength was tested.
Four pills to say the least,
Five pills to banish the demons:
A quiet scream for revenge. Even if it was a silent fight, the pain was in my eyes. If only you looked close enough—it was hidden among the emerald. It never was easy to bear the weight of the world on my shoulders. That winter I discovered relapsing.

    I was a trainwreck of sorts: popping pills to cure the pain, falling apart at the seams, aching for something else—to be someone else...there was no "finding beauty" in something so beaten...
So bruised...
So damaged...
So unwanted.
I tried to collect the pieces. Instead, I learned to control my thoughts, but I can't drown my demons. They know how to swim. That winter I found out we all have our addictions.

*I never let my addiction get too far. It wasn't worth it in the end because I had myself to live to live for, to look forward to a future I could create myself. It took years of work and pressure, but I managed to kick my own addiction in exchange for one much less harmful to my system. I live on for all 3 of my nephews, my brother, my sister, and my father. They need me more than I wish to see my mother again.*