Conversation with My Reflection

I heard you
You kept saying it would turn out alright
You kept repeating the word 'fine' to other people
until your lips bled
Like,
You knew tears couldn't get dry but everytime you felt like crying
Your eyes shed dry dust
And tonight, I know you rip at your wrist again,
watching the drops of your blood dancing in your dark room
Twinkling innocently under the moonlight
as if saying "hello, old friend" to you shyly.

And I know,
you're only trying to find the monster inside you.
I know you scratch
and you cut
and you claw
and you stab
only to try to kill the monster in you.
I know you pull your hair out
cry a river
scream like the dead,
trying to get that beast out of your veins.

You tell yourself,
You're not hurting yourself
You're only trying to protect whatever left in you.

Honey,
go face that mirror,
see your reflection,
look at every scar, every bruise,
look at the dark blue paint around your eyes,
and say,
"This is my skin,
this is my body.
No one has the right to rule it but me.
No one has the right to sneer at it as if it were a disease.
No one has the right to comment on it as if it were a youtube video."
Point at your chest,
feel your heart beat,
hitting the chorus of life,
as if that life of yours
were a song,
and say,
"No one has the right to play it like it's a stupid game.
No one has the right to  break it like it's a glass.
No one has the right to step on it like it's a carpet."
Now look at your trickling blood,
say,
"This is my blood carrying my poems.
This is my blood carrying my soul.
This is my blood carrying my passion.
This is my blood carrying my music."
The blood that's sprouting from one single cut
you've carved on yourself tonight,
screaming out your rhythm.
As if that life of yours,
were a literature masterpiece.

And trust me,
no matter how battered you are,
you are the protagonist of this story God has written for you.
No matter how beaten up you are,
you are a God's masterpiece.

19

I was four
When I discovered I could sing my heart out
My mother used to video-tape me singing
My father used to take the pictures
Because human brains, they say, can forget easily.
I was six
And I was already great at reading
I beat my classmates when it came to reading
And boy was I great at writing too.
But it was when I was six too
When I discovered I was dreadful at drawing
My teacher told the class to draw a fish and I couldn't do it
I remember crying when I told my mother I couldn't draw
I was horrified there was something I was horrible at
But then I learned no one could master everything

It was two years later, I think
When I decided relationships were stupid.
Because my older childhood friend got a boyfriend
And she spent less time with me,
while I spent more time with my books.
And once she came back to me,
she was crying and told me her boyfriend broke up with her and hurt her.
I didn't know what that meant,
so I just offered her my book.
That was when I swore to myself that,
along with relationships, falling in love and boyfriends were a stupid idea.
And then I got back to my books.
I was thirteen, I guess
When a boy told me he liked me and asked me out
I freaked out and told him no immediately
I know I hurt him but hey, I said sorry
And I still believed falling in love would be a dumb move.

But it was four years after that,
I was freshly-just-turned-seventeen
When I stupidly made that dumb move,
and fell disgustingly in love with a guy
It was, dare I say it, my first love.
It hadn't felt anything like a stupid idea at that time
Until I got my heart crushed, of course
That was when the thought of 'falling in love is a bad idea' came back
And, boy, did that thought come along with streaming tears and a heartache.
I am nineteen now
And that first love is stubbornly still there
Like coffee stains on my shirt when I accidentally spilled it
Like blood stains on my pillow the first night I ripped off my skin
And that makes me think again that falling in love is indeed a godamn dumb move.
And relationships are stupid as fuck.
And books are still my best partner.

My brain, is one hell of a place
Jumbled words and memories,
questions and answers
anxiety and imagination,
opinions compared to facts,
book world and real world,
I'm trying to build them neatly
I am nineteen now,
And I still get lost while building my mind

I am nineteen

And I swear I still can't draw
I can't paint my mother's warm eyes the exact shade of hot chocolate she used to make me
But I sing to the flow of my blood in my veins,
Noticing how every beat is a love story about God gives me another second of life
And I still sing,
but no longer in front of my mother to video-tape me,
no longer in front of my father to take pictures of me
I'm nineteen and I still feel pride in my reading habit
Human brains, they say, can forget easily
But it's been already eleven years and I still stubbornly think,
"Holy shit falling in love is a dumb idea
and relationships are stupid
and so are boyfriends"
And with that thought,
I get back to my books.

I'm back?

So yeah, it's been like forever since the last time I actually wrote something. The last time I posted was like, a few months back? And it was about me relapsing so it wasn't really counted as a poem or something. I noticed the last time I posted a poem was more than a year ago.

And that, somehow, made me sad.

I didn't really stop writing, I posted short stuff on my path or line account every once in a while, or just scratched  something on my textbooks. But they were never a long one. I tried but it turned into something I despised once I reread it, so I guess I just kind of stopped writing long poems.

But I hope I can get back on track soon.

So, so much has changed in a couple of years. So much happened in 2 years. Friggin' avalanche of problem happened in family, family got torn, heart had fallen disgustingly in love, the fallen heart got broken, mind was screwed, mental was disturbed, self harmed myself, wanted to die, depressed beyond belief, family reunited again, family problems solved (kind of), depression healed (hopefully no relapse again), the broken heart slowly mended itself (like, really REALLY slow I swear), I graduated from high school, I moved out from home (I HAVE TO LIVE ALONE NOW??!!??), met new friends and new people, looked at my scars and thought 'whoa I was a fucking trainwreck', well maybe I still am but somehow I can manage it so far.

And for that I am forever grateful for God, my family, and my close friends.

I'm not gonna write my bloody autobiography on my blog I swear if I did I'd make a series, not a post. So the point is, in my 19 years of breathing, I've been trough hell. I've seen my darkest hours. I've suffered something that no one ever deserves to suffer. But I made it out alive, I made it out with scars and wounds and some of them still bleed but I am alive, and stronger and more grateful than I was before. I'm still mentally screwed but I'm far much better than I was.

I didn't know what will happen later in life, like, maybe I'll see darker times than I've seen before. But if I could survived the last one, I hope I will be more prepared for next ones (which, hopefully, will never have to come for a visit)

There are some of you who have experienced something like I did and survived. Cherish yourselves for you are warriors of life.
There are some of you who are still suffering, still thinking that you're not worth it, that you don't deserve anything, that you'd be better off dead. Who are feeling like you can't get through your situation, feeling the worst feeling ever; numbness. If you ever come across this post of mine, remember that you can make it. Hold on tighter, be closer to God. Believe that you're stronger than your problems. Remember that it will always get better. Maybe it'll take some times for it to get better,maybe it'll take longer than 2 years but trust me, it will. I, honestly, am still fighting hard my mental illness. I know relapse is ready to attack at any time. But I'm trying, you should too.

It's not easy but, it is never easy. Sometimes the thought of being dead seems like a better solution but it is really not. If you ever feel like you should kill yourself, don't. Suicide is an answer but it is never a solution. I know it is damned hard, but if I can do it, than you can too. If I can survive than you can too. Remember that God is always close to you, you only have to reach out further to God because you are the one who is rarely close to God.

So for you, whoever you are; you, who is fighting for life; you, who has suicidal thought; you, who is fighting mental illness; you, who is in recovery or in relapse; you, who is facing a hard problem; you, who is self harming yourself tonight; you, who stumbled upon this post, I know you can get through this. I know you can make it. I believe in you, and you should believe in yourself too. It will be worth it at the end. Trust me someday your scars will be proof of how strong you really are, how you survive everything, you'll be able to look back, look down at your scars, and think "I made it."

Love,

Me.