You Make Me Feel Less Alone

"They dont see how much I’m pretending."

2011-10-02T14:40:00.004-04:00

Alone in a Crowd of People
Jessica D. Vega, age 22.
Jersey City, NJ.

Alone in a crowd of people
They see me
but they don't see the real me
They see my smile
but they don't see how fake it is
They dont see how much I’m pretending
pretending to be happy

Alone in a crowd of people
Knowing I’ll never belong
never fit in to any group
always alone
always forgotten
always invisible

Alone in a crowd of people
Wearing this mask so well
hiding all my emotions
hiding all my doubts
hiding all my fears
hiding all my scars

Alone in a crowd of people
no on really knows
no one really cares
no one really understands
how I feel
how I really feel
and the way I feel
is alone in a crowd of people

I feel like I've been wasting time.
Jessica D. Vega, age 22.
Jersey City, NJ.

I never got to do the things
that I really wanted to do.
I wonder if it’s to late to start now.
Even if I did start now,
I wouldn’t know how or where to start.

I feel like I’m trapped in a box
that’s sealed tight.
I can’t get out.
I can’t move.
I can’t breathe.
I’m suffocating.

I scream,
but nobody hears.
I cry,
but nobody sees.
Because I’m trapped in this box.
And they can’t really tell what’s wrong with me,
because all they hear from me is silence.

So, how can I do the things I really want do,
when I can’t even get out of this box that
I’ve been trapped in for years.

"Flawless. It means everything to me."

2011-10-01T14:46:00.001-04:00

Flawless
Anonymous, age 15
Brooklyn, NY

Perfect
That's all I want to be
Flawless
It means everything to me

Not many understand
The need
The want
The strive
To be better
Perfect
Flawless

Need to not be me
Need to be you
Need to be different
Not myself
When I am
Oh so broken
Oh so flawed

Not perfect
Not how I want to be
Not flawless

"I don’t need to be the hero."

2011-09-30T14:50:00.000-04:00

Spoiler
Carolyn Ursabia, age 28
Toronto

Tell me how the story ends
I just want to know.
It’s hard to see beyond the moment
when you’re dealt another blow.

Tell me I’m the distressed damsel –
a knight in armour on his way;
The Deus Ex Machina ’round the corner
to materialize and save the day.

I don’t need to be the hero,
or the star that steals the show.
I’m not desperate for attention
when I’m feeling really low.

I need help because I’m cracking
under the pressure of the weight
of every little tiny thing
with which I’ve struggled as of late.

So don’t tell me I can do it.
When what I need’s a helpful hand.
Not just empty, pleasant words
that suggest but don’t mean you understand.

Oh but in the end, I know who’s the hero
The rising star that saves the show.
I asked you how the story ends,
but I guess I damned well know:

I’ll suck it up, and take the hits.
Maybe a couple times I’ll fall.
And when they ask me “How much credit…”
I will say, “I take it all.”

"I have this power to overcome."

2011-09-29T14:53:00.001-04:00

Confidence
A.M. Young, age 22
Jenkintown, PA

Lonely and abrupt
I sit waiting for the corrupt
The one to take me away
From the simplicities of my day
To complicate things

To manipulate my mind
I climb and I climb.
Out of this depression
I have this lingering confession
That this will be different

I will be no more
From what I was before
Like a flower
I will conquer with a shower
To cleanse my soul

That clean embrace
From my mother’s face
I have this power to overcome
All these things that I have committed and done
That will haunt my thoughts

But won’t bring me down
I no longer hide like a clown
I am a bird, free
I am myself; I am here and I am me

Funny little thing confidence

"He has made me promise to not burn myself."

2011-09-28T14:56:00.000-04:00

Nicole Easterwood, age 20
Jacksonville, AL

His hands are smooth,
uncalloused,
as they touch my skin.
At the beginning of each
of my phalanges
lay thick calluses.
My thumbs,
and sometimes index fingers,
are torn up
and bleed from picking.
I can’t stop.
I’ve tried so many times.
I’ve thought of him
and pleaded with my mind
to stop.
I’ve tried.

His arms are free of scars,
so strong.
I look at mine and am ashamed.
Reminders of cold bathroom floor,
mixing with the flame of a lighter.
So many sleepless nights.
So many days of curtains drawn.
So many panic attacks taking over me.
I’ve tried to be calm.
I’ve tried.
I’ve tried.

No one seems to understand
how it feels to think
that you are alone.
But when his hand brushes mine,
breathing ceases
and I am not thinking
of how I can make it stop.
It culminates and I am fine.
Nothing matters
except simply being.

He has made me promise
to not burn myself.
To stop
inflicting pain.
I promised.
And I will
keep my promise.
Because he’s worth it.
Because I’m scared
to say I love him.
To tell him
he deserves someone
who is well.
To tell him,
“You make me
feel less alone.”

Winners: National Poetry Month Contest

2011-05-06T16:38:00.001-04:00

I am thrilled to announce the three winners of my National Poetry Month Contest. I got loads of submissions on all sorts of topics: relationships, self-injury, depression, anxiety, medication, self image, violence, racism, and more. But the common theme was hope...and that things get better.

Check out all the submissions here on my blog. And, of course, take a moment to read the three winning poems below.

The grand-prize winner is Anonymous, age 22 with "Fall."

She'll be getting a great prize pack of books including: It Gets Better by Dan Savage, I Don’t Want to Be Crazy and You Are Not Here by Samantha Schutz (signed by me!), It’s Kind of a Funny Story by Ned Vizzini, Cut by Patricia McCormick, and Talking in the Dark by Billy Merrell.

Anonymous, age 22
Fall

I try to suppress the grin on my face
As I rush, alone, to my next class.
The campus is graceful in its nature
and colors and I’m alone, not
lonely, thanking the empty sky for
getting me to this place.
I’m in awe of the bag on my
shoulder, heavy with overpriced
books. Proud that my four successive
classes give me some place
acceptable to be.
I take notes and study and wear a genuinely
rehearsed contemplative look. I can’t understand
the groans around me at another assigned chapter
or announcement of an upcoming test.
This is it.
What I’ve been struggling to attain for four
excruciatingly long years.
To sit in a class and learn, to abandon my corner
of safety and pain and thoughts designed to
derail me at every haphazard venturing out.
I spent the better part of my first two adult
years screaming on a locked ward,
but the piercing shrieks have faded,
and I don’t think I have to be so afraid
anymore.

I don’t think they can control me anymore.

* * *

The two runners up are Anu B., age 18 and Stephanie Faith Sizeland, age 19.

They'll both get signed copies of I Don’t Want to Be Crazy and You Are Not Here by Samantha Schutz (me!).

Anu B., age 18
Maybe

Maybe I’m not who you want me to be,
But I’m me. Incorrigibly, irredeemably, painfully
Me.
Maybe I’m not where you want me to be.
Maybe my hair is too long for your liking,
Or too short for your delicate sensibilities.
Maybe my pants hang a little too low,
Or I hold my books a little too close.
Maybe my eyes are too sad for you,
Or my hips too wide,
My arms too long, my smile
Too blithe.
Maybe it’s just that I’m too tall, too short,
Too skinny, too fat, too strong, too smart,
Too loud, too quiet, too immersed in my thoughts.
Maybe.
Maybe I’m not everything you want me to be,
But I’m me. Incorrigibly, irredeemably, painfully
Me.
But, maybe it’s not me.
Maybe you’re too…too.
Maybe you’re heart isn’t big enough,
Maybe your heart only feels its own pain.
My heart will have to be big enough,
I will survive your incorrigible, irredeemable,
Painful Disdain.

Stephanie Faith Sizeland, age 19
Stop the bleeding

As she heads for the book shelf
She apologizes to herself once more
“I’m sorry, I can’t take it anymore.”
She lifts up her book titled “Glass”
“Story of my life” she whispers…
Underneath hides a secret kept from the world
The story of a broken girl.
She picks up the translucent piece
Sharpened edge
Sharper than the rest
In need of one more release.
Glass to skin, she carves
Another scar
One more line to match the rest
Closes her eyes and lets it slide
“This is the last time.” She lies.
As the blood runs, she weeps
Always abides by her one rule
“Never too deep”.
The lines are straight
She holds her arm to the light
Studying the horizontal cuts
Always left to right.
Never does it for attention
Or sympathy from anyone
Does it for herself
Because she feels she has no choice
Not tonight, not ever.

It’s about stopping.
It’s about having the courage to stop.
Having the strength.
Relief is possible without the knife.
Don’t cut your life short.
Make an effort to stop.
Make an effort to get better.
Tell someone you love.
Help someone you know.
Stop the scars.
Stop the bleeding.

Nat’l Poetry Month contest submissions

2011-05-01T23:15:00.000-04:00

All of the entries for the poetry contest are up! Check them out! Winners will be announced this Friday. Who do you think should win?
http://samanthaschutz.net/site/?p=612

2011 Nat'l Poetry Month Contest & It Gets Better project

2011-04-02T14:36:00.009-04:00

Hey friends. I wanted to let you know about the It Gets Better project. It falls right in line with the goal of YouMakeMeFeelLessAlone. Sparked by incidents of LGTB kids being bullied and committing suicide, Dan Savage (the well known sex columnist) created the It Gets Better campaign of video diaries from LGTB people who are speaking about how life gets better after those wretched teenage years. I am honored to know several people that have contributed videos. There is also an It Gets Better book available now! Check out the videos, the book, and the site. Maybe you'd even like to contribute a video. http://www.itgetsbetter.org/

The sentiment of It Get Better doesn't have to be limited to LGTB issues. To celebrate National Poetry Month and get the word out about It Gets Better and YouMakeMeFeelLessAlone, I am holding a POETRY CONTEST. Contribute your writing to YMMFLA and give others hope that dealing with issues like mental illness, addiction, sexuality, and relationships GETS BETTER!

Click here for info about PRIZES and GUIDELINES.

100th post to You Make Me Feel Less Alone!

2011-03-08T10:09:00.004-05:00

This is the 100th post to You Make Me Feel Less Alone! Thanks to everyone who has submitted, read entries, and commented. Keep the submissions coming!

Karissa Doll, age 18. California.

Just Another Drink

Just one more sip
But somehow the bottle's already gone
It never stays full for long
She lays in her room
She knows nothing's okay
She knows she's right
But it's all wrong

Through a nights sleep
The day disappears
It just disappears
It's already gone

Just another drink
And another bottle
Things fall apart
The roots so deep
What you've come to be
Just another drink

So unforgiving
It won't leave her glass
This isn't her
It's all just a blur
But I see so clear
The ending so near
Of my loss of faith

Another drop
And my heart stops
It can no longer feel

I've become so numb
I'm just too young
To know who you've become
Would you want that for me
To do as I see
To give up everything
For just another drink

"I'd just stick with you If it were up to me."

2011-03-08T10:04:00.002-05:00

Colleen, age 15. Kentucky.

Poem: Too Many People

Their is too many people
in this world I see
I'd just stick with you
If it were up to me

Exposure Therapy I might need
but, even after sessions
I still believe
that their's

Too many people
& I feel like I have
no room to breathe

So many people
that I block out
So I can't see
because it causes so much anxiety

If it were up to me
I'd just stick with you
I don't like being alone
but, I would be okay with finding alone with you.

Poem: His Kind of Red Sky

Lying in the grass
Staring up at the sky
I got a glance
Of his kind of red sky

Poem: He Comes Close

You're a fighter
& you've come so far
Holding on
So don't let go now
No one will ever understand completely
But, he comes close
With your thoughts & your feelings
You may be alone
& in severe pain
But, tomorrow's a new day
& it's never too late
To begin again.

Poem: Though You Hurt

Though you hurt
Though you suffer
Though you may never be the same
You are constantly picking yourself back up
& trying again
'Cause all you really want
All you really need
Is happiness somewhere in between

Things are starting to change
You're realizing you won't be the same
Though you hurt & are afraid
Who says things haven't ever been this way?

Poem: To Make it Make Sense

To make it make sense
You call it beautiful pain
Is it possible the sun will come out tomorrow?
Will the moon & stars show again?
Does something beautiful end?
------->YES<-------

"Like a captured rabbit I pounce at a chance of freedom."

2011-03-07T21:14:00.004-05:00

A.M. Young, age 22. Jenkintown, PA.

Pain

Reality flickers on and off
Like a lamp in my mind
Sacrificing sanity in the process
I am lost
Anxiously breathing, heart pitter pattering
Like a captured rabbit
I pounce at a chance of freedom
But I am lost

I am unsafe alone
But worse crowded within the mob
Reality an occurrence
I am uncomfortable
Now a light which once flickered
Is the spotlight on my mind
I am forsaken by my spotlight
Still I am uncomfortable

My spotlight shines
When it once flickered in and out
Now blinding my eyes
I am in pain.

At last, new poems!

2011-02-24T14:34:00.005-05:00

Sorry, folks. It's been a really long time. But here are several new posts for YMMFLA! Check them out. Post comments about what you think. Send in your own work!

Anonymous.
[break her down]

Like a flower in the sky, I fall gently, creating disturbance beneath me and natural disaster across the seas. I take my place on the stone ledge, fixing my eyes on the edge, begging some part of me not to go through with it, all the while knowing I won’t do it. I witness fear enter in, starting to call revenge my closest friend, daring the eyes to see all they have done. I pinch myself, this is no dream, catch a deep breath, finding in me, searching deeper for more meaning – nothing. Getting closer, feet are trembling, my heart keeps beating; now its racing, somehow being torn between, never knowing if it is worth it to stay alive. I hold my head above the water, those who follow, somehow stronger; though they stumble they find footing absent from my own. No one sees me, the sun betrays me, I jump into the black beneath leaving behind my last words and a final goodbye - not even a shadow. I am beauty, see me falling? Catch me.

Latoya Brathwaite, Age 18. Barbados.
Suicide

I smashed the mirror on my bathroom wall
And watched my reflection shatter
Depressed, sad, ugly girl...she was gone
The memories, the revolting pain, it all ceased to matter
I smeared on some makeup
I dyed my hair red
And that night...that night,I left her behind
Lost within the sharp shards of glass, her face, once was mine

My words dripped with forged bouts of happiness,
Sentences punctuated with the whitest "Oh-emm-gee"
Ten, eleven, twelve...ficticious tales of a wild, exciting life
I laughed until I cried, I cried on the inside, inevitably
I signed on to Facebook
I added my new "friends"
And when in pain I told myself, she would fade after a while
So I drowned her out in sleeping pills and bullied my mouth to smile

The moon hid behind the cloud, the crickets screamed
The night I lost my virginity
When it was over, he pushed me off the bed and laughed when I started to cry
Where were my friends
I felt ugly again
Depressed
Lonely
In my hand, the butcher knife gleamed
Before I could carve a line on my wrist...I saw her reflection
The knife distorted the image but I recognised her
Clarity replaced insanity...the wrongs I did to her,came flooding back to me

I made her overdose on the wild life
Evertime I pretended to be like them, the noose tightened around her neck
I stabbed her in the heart when I gave away my innocence
Clarity.
Her reflection would always be mine
When the knife slid from my hand...I realised, I had already murdered
Me.

Joshua Diehl, age 18. Denton, Texas.
Concerning Inadequacy

Inspiration,

How you torture me as a flipping switch
Turning swiftly, repeatedly, from marriage to suicide
Between art and happiness, I cannot decide
But sorrow never seems to kick me into the ditch

My heartstrings have become sanguinary
But this could never be a fault of yours
Lord, I do not think this has been a dream of sorts
Although I am not certain of anything, anymore

No longer shaped like a cradle, both hands on the rusting rail,
Barely shuffling up perished steps
I forgot to take the time to reconstruct a liar’s bed
No wonder I come home only to the coffee she left

Time will spread her wings and fly
If you let her stare too long into the sky
I do not think your love will fix everything
But God, how I would quite love to try

A.M. Young, age 22. Jenkintown, PA.
Molestation

Binds me to the past, like a pair of steel clasped hand cuffs
Tightened to my wrists, I feel them squeezing the blood
Blood that should be flowing from my hands to my heart

My heart beats rapidly as I am linked to the past barely surviving
Laughing at the notion of thriving ever even considered
Soulless it seems from the lies of the deep abyss

Light indigo lines ran rapid in the child’s eyes
Or were they dark like the color of the soil
Forgotten now the simple description of the doer

Look what ignorance has done to the Molested
Ignorance of the molested and the doer
Ignorance of the guardian, the watcher, the closeness

Binds me to the past, like a shackle of a slave
Crippled I am soul, body, and mind
My innocence forced out

Driven out of the soul like a whipped, beaten horse
A stallion beautiful once, but now a simple ass
Loaded with the stress of a strain not its fault

HA! Says the molested, HE! Says the ass
I am wounded, forgotten, overlooked
I am bound to this past, the emotion of a tumultuous storm

The storm rages on and pours down over my body
Cleans dear lord of all my oppression
“Blessed are they who mourn,

For they will be comforted”
I can only pray
The binding of the my soul to the molested

Anonymous.
Little Word

If I were going to write you
it would only be one word—
hi.
I’d print it so small
that it would be barely
visible, just a whisper
of lead on paper
saying
I am still here.

"I look in the mirror and I see a stranger."

2010-11-08T10:14:00.002-05:00

Nicole Easterwood, age 20. Ohatchee, Alabama

I can feel the heaviness again.
I am driving down the road
at ninety to nothing,
flooring it so I can get home,
so I don’t have to do this
in the middle of the road
alone.
My sister’s there.
She knows what to do,
what to say to me
to make me begin
to calm down.
Even if I don’t tell her
what’s going on.
There is nothing here,
but blackness
and my mind
is pacing back and forth.
I keep trying to figure out
what triggered it this time
so I can know not to do
whatever it was again.
But each time
it’s something different.
Each time the “thing”
that makes me feel like I am
losing
control
changes.
I can’t pinpoint anything anymore.
I can’t figure out what it is this time.
All I can see
when I turn around
each corner is
fail,
Fail,
FAIL.
Like nothing I’m doing matters
and the sea of brackish water
is consuming my lungs
when I am mute.
Like all it would take
to make all of the tension
and pulsating stop would be
making a stop by “Blunt Guy’s” house.
I could waste away
into the pot
and the alcohol and,
for a little while,
I wouldn’t feel like
I was dying.
The offer is
so tempting.
Then I think of Jake
and my mentor and
what they would think of me
if they knew all of this,
but I can’t take all of it anymore.
I look in the mirror
and I see a stranger,
someone who
could not possibly be Nicole,
someone who should not still
be here in this town,
someone who should
be gone by now.
And Jo is the only one
who really understands
that I can’t be
in this house anymore.
That even driving is a task
and my chest is still heavy
and stomach churning
as I pull in the driveway
and try to breathe,
breathe,
breathe.

"The knowledge that I’m not alone helped me find balance."

2010-10-27T13:59:00.003-04:00

Amber McLain, age 18. Michigan

Panic rises and grips my throat, my heart. I feel like death has his arms around me, waiting for just the right moment to move his hands around my neck. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. Why does no one understand that? Can no one understand what’s going on? I’m too shy to ask for help, but is it really not obvious? Mom, dad, sisters one, two and three – do you not see how much I’m suffering? No one understands, until…a book. A book gives me hope. Many books, actually. They help me realize that what’s wrong isn’t that I’m crazy; what’s wrong is that I’m depressed; I might very well have panic disorder. This is oddly calming; just knowing that I am not alone in this struggle helps. I don’t feel as bad, don’t feel the need to hide, don’t self-medicate. The knowledge that I’m not alone helped me find balance.

Ned Vizzini and It's Kind of a Funny Story

2010-10-07T19:57:00.017-04:00

I am so excited to be posting this next submission. It's from friend and fellow young adult author, Ned Vizzini. His most recent novel, It's Kind of a Funny Story, was adapted as a film and hits theaters across the country TOMORROW (10/8/10)!

Read more about the film and its outstanding cast here. And more about Ned and his infinite awesomeness here. Finally, Ned and I will be doing a reading together on 10/26/10 at Barnes & Noble in Park Slope, Brooklyn at 7pm.

Ned Vizzini, age 29. Los Angeles, CA.

"When I went into a psychiatric hospital for a week-long stay for depression and 'suicidal ideation' in November 2004, I found myself with a lot of time on my hands. Although I'm a writer by profession I decided to try and do abstract art. I limited my color palette and tried to just make pleasing shapes with Cray-Pas on paper. The goal was to see the colors blend well and to bring motion to the composition. I ended up really liking these drawings, and I used the art-therapy angle when I made the main character of my subsequent novel It's Kind of a Funny Story draw 'brain maps' during his own hospital stay. In a real way, these are the drawings that inspired the brain maps."

On sale day and PHOTO CONTEST!

2010-10-01T15:41:00.008-04:00

The awesome-ness of on-sale day is not just limited to my new novel, You Are Not Here, coming out. I am also launching a photo contest!

Entries will be accepted until 11:59pm (EST) December 20th, 2010. Three winners will be announced January 10th, 2011.

Check here for how to submit, guidelines, and more!

----------

Here’s an idea of what an entry might look like.
(Keep in mind, your pic doesn’t have to be in a cemetery.)

Name: Samantha Schutz
Age: 31
Location: NYC
What inspired this picture: I love how a cemetery can be beautiful, but at the same time, really depressing.
What quote from You Are Not Here is associated with this image:

“Nothing grows here besides grass.”

"She colored her world outside the lines."

2010-09-27T21:19:00.001-04:00

klp, age 18.

[I found her in the midst of my struggle] :

“She smiled, I smiled. Her eyes wondered where mine once strayed, and her feet stepped where mine once stumbled. I watched as she made believe, tarring up pretty little pictures into tiny little pieces, cleaning up the mess she made. I saw her gentle smile as she colored her world outside the lines, unafraid of getting hurt, yet maybe a little too wreckless and flawed. As she starred at the image in disbelief, I recognized the pain behind her eyes as she started to believe the lies that she was not enough. I always knew she was just a little bit too much like me. If I could tell her one thing, it would be to be beautiful just the way she is.”

"This tunnel has been dark but you showed me light."

2010-09-27T21:17:00.003-04:00

Colleen, Kentucky. Age 15.
Song: Road to Recovery

I felt good today
I haven't felt like this in awhile
You were walking with me
You have a way of making me smile

(Chorus:)
We've been on this road together
It's been a long journey
But you've held my hand this whole time
On this road to recovery

I don't know what I'd do without you
You've saved my life
This tunnel has been dark but you showed me light
And stayed by my side

(Repeat Chorus)

"The silence was too thick to be cut. Too hollow to be filled."

2010-09-01T10:48:00.004-04:00

Jamie Lynn Cox, age 18. Fresno, CA.

Sorry

I had a dream last night

That I boarded a train

To nowhere in particular

But I was not alone

There were several people there

Just as bewildered as I

All were dressed in thin clothing

And shivering

Ill-prepared for the cold climate

There were no tickets

No assigned seating

No listed destinations

It was as if it were a one-way train

That would sleepily continue into the infinite darkness of night

The silence was too thick to be cut

Too hollow to be filled

I stumbled to my seat

Trying to recall where I was and why

Suddenly I spotted part of a name tag on one of the passengers

Shamefully trying to hide it in the breast of their coat so I couldn’t read it

I realized that every nameless person had one

Whether or not they knew about it

I frantically searched for mine to no avail

I wanted to know who I was!

There was a drunken vagrant sleeping in the back

Who reeked of his own piss and filth

I didn’t want to touch him

But I had to get closer

I had to know his name

I saw the rectangular sticker displayed right on his chest

As if he didn’t realize it was there

Or as if he didn’t care to hide it

His name was Responsibility

And I was in disbelief

How could Responsibility just let himself go like that?

As my search progressed

I discovered a name for everyone

Worry sat in the front row

Rocking back and forth next to Fear

Who held his head in his hands

Beauty’s makeup was smeared across her face

She was crying

She stared relentlessly into the dark windows

Trying to get a glimpse of her reflection

Hope was an elderly man

I’d assumed he’d been riding the same train for a very long time

Patiently waiting for the train to stop rolling so he could get off

He wore a smile

The only one I’ve seen yet

There was one girl who never looked at me

She just gazed towards the front of the train

Lacking the curiosity of everyone else

I approached her

Touched her cheek

And turned her face to mine

Her eyes were blue and clouded

She reached out awkwardly

To find my hand, I assume

Across her hand I found the name tag

Hello, my name is Blind

I sympathetically held her hand

And wondered if she knew her name

Though she couldn’t read her identifying label

Without locating my own,

I still didn’t know what to call myself

She cuddled up to my arm affectionately

So beautiful was she

Like an angel

I instantly grew close to her

As I watched her snuggle into my side

I saw my name tag across my shoulder!

I read it and a wave of guilt washed over me

My name was Sorry

I realized then and there

Through the silence that could not be broken

There was no way for me to introduce myself to Blind

I realized then and there

The warmth of our embrace would be the only communication her and I could ever share

I awoke and cried.

How would she feel if she knew she was cuddling next to a person with a name like mine?

I felt like Liar, taking advantage of that sweet girl

Someone like Trust should have held her

Not me

I wish there was a way for her to have known the truth

I wish there was a way I could have told her

I never wanted to hurt her

For all she knew, I could have been Love riding next to her

A person worthy of such compassion

I’ve never known a feeling like that before

She held my arm without ever questioning who she was holding

She just did it because I was there

Whatever I was

She didn’t care

She held my arm tightly

Scared

And clinging to the only person she knew

Unfortunately

I was Sorry

And she’d never know it.

My first novel comes out in Oct!

2010-08-30T11:38:00.003-04:00

To celebrate the 10/1 launch of my first novel, You Are Not Here, I am going to write 10 new blog posts in the next 30 days. Check them out starting 9/1.

Among other things, they'll be about my writing process, inspiration, and my favorite: behind the scenes photos of the real places the book is based on.

More to come soon!

Pre-order here.

"Can I heal?"

2010-08-06T17:15:00.003-04:00

Colleen, age 15.

Genre: Song

Title: Circles

Verse 1:
Everything is in circles
Around and around
I’m seeing pieces
Of my mind running around
They would just disappear
So I knew they weren’t real
And it’s only a matter of time
Before I realize
It’s not real at all

Chorus:
The way I feel (I feel)
Can I heal?
The way I feel (I feel)
Is it all real?
The way I feel (I feel)

Verse 2:
Everything is in circles
Even in my mind
Around and around
All the places you can’t find me
All the places I hid above the ground
I remember when I first realized that something was wrong
With

(Chorus)

Last Verse:
There’s a place I could go
And you’d never know
That I’m there in circles
It hurts over and over again
Because it’s around and around
My tears
My fears
Are in a cycle of coming down.

"I write to let go, to feel, to express, to cope..."

2010-08-06T09:53:00.001-04:00

Katie K., age 17. Florida.

When I "grow up" I want to be a writer. Whether I’m writing a memoir, a childrens book, fiction, non fiction, whatever it may be. I want to write. Because it is the only thing I feel I am good at. Even on those very frequent days where I feel almost as if I am on mute; like I am at a loss for words that need to somehow be verbalized. Writing is joyous to me, but more importantly it is and always has been an emotional outlet for me. Something that I have always managed to be able to turn to. Even with writers block. All my life I've been blamed for pretty much bottling things up or not telling everyone every detailed aspect of my life, but this is because I write. I write to let go, to feel, to express, to cope, and even sometimes, to just let someone else know “hey, I know what you’re going through, look at me. I’m a mess, too. We all are in our own ways, really.”

Point is, I just hope to someday reach out to others with my writing. More than I already have. If there is anything I want out of life, it’s that. Because I know that personally, I’ve gotten through some of the most challenging parts of my life because of a book I read. And no, I’m not asking to be famous. I sure as hell don’t want to be the next Stephenie meyer (mostly because my forte isn’t sparkly vampires, anyway) but I am asking to be heard. But mostly, I want to make an impact and leave my mark somewhere, anywhere, on anyone in the world.

"The tears flow but they do not over power me this time."

2010-07-29T10:51:00.003-04:00

Cathy R., age 34. Brooklyn, NY

I am trying to make life simple again.
The panic is constantly taunting me.
Threatening to show itself to company.
This feeling is unbearable.

I haven't felt this way since I was 16, and then 22,
and then now,
and all of the times in between that I blamed it on life being difficult.
Circumstances forever changing. Relationships ending.
The day to day tasks and obligations that others seem to navigate,
but make me freeze.

The walking in circles.
Back tracking my steps.
Misplacing things.
Forgetting details as soon as I allow my mind to wander.
Trying to figure out why I am here and not there.
The constant worrying.
Is just time consuming.

My chest feels like it's going to cave in.
My stomach in knots.
The comfort of having water close by at all times soothes me.
And antacids in my bag.
And the ability to phone a friend.

It is difficult to grasp because the highs are so high.
And the lows are terrifying.

I am unsure if I should go on medication.
Psychiatrist thinks I should.
Therapist thinks there are other ways.
I just want to be uncomplicated.

Do I really need them?

I function, I create, I am a friend, a daughter, a coworker, I get through my days.
I also cry, panic, hoard, have rituals, and I am afraid.
It's all very confusing.

Everything is sitting on the surface and I feel naked and exposed.

When I'm not productive,
it makes me feel invisible.
I am wrapped with guilt.

All I hear is my head telling me that I'm not good enough,
Not strong enough,
Not talented enough to make this life.
And though I know different,
It makes everything black and makes me grip onto nothingness as if it defines me.

This weeks challenge is allowing the emotions to happen as they come,
instead of suppressing them until I cannot breathe.
The tears flow but they do not over power me this time.

It was not always like this.
This will pass, again.
It has to.

"The lines once created were easily torn."

2010-07-27T09:36:00.002-04:00

Sarah Pepper, age 20. Detroit.

Change

What is my life revolving into?
I do not recognize people anymore
they are different and I am hazy
this one I used to love and adore
is confused and hurt by what Ive become
we all change some time
I take my turn
you take yours
We cant not be equal to understand
Change causes the once funny to be nausiating and cold
the lines once created were easily torn
I have crossed to the side, a side of just windows
for watching and hoping "He" will put in a good word for me
or that the vibes of nature, all interconnected,
will reach out to each other and help.
In here I see only the feeling is there
but meek then blowing
My days of fear are over
I must take this challenge
this battle, with no ending,
battle it with my courage, laughter, and love
one day the spinning and changing will go
and I will still be here, forever a glow.

"Thoughts of you are forever in my soul."

2010-07-26T15:59:00.002-04:00

Caroline "ButtaBRn65" Davis

I Found

Inner most wanted desires come and go, thoughts of you are forever in my soul...sweet whispers of love gather around my ear,...I listen with joy, passion. My heart dances to the sweet songs of you and I...never will a day go by without you knowing how much "I love you". I have seen, and heard of magic, now with you I feel it, over and over again each and every day, keeping you close for always and forever

"Someone please tell me where to go."

2010-07-06T16:16:00.001-04:00

Joshua Diehl, age 17. Nocona, Texas.

Spit In My Face

We all drive or ride to the healers
In beat-up brown Buicks
With blue signs hanging from our rear view mirrors
So everyone knows that we fit in

Every goddam spot is marked with blue lines
But I still don't know where to go
Someone please tell me where to go
It is infinitely ironic that no one knows

There are no staircases, but concrete paved smooth
I can't use this body, so take away my dignity
I would be content if I had nothing to lose

"Am I caged or am I free?"

2010-06-10T09:00:00.000-04:00

Leigh, age 36. Australia.

Leigh's Lament

My life flashed before my eyes
I was taken by surprise
So much has led me here
All the pain and all the fear

I’ve been down and I’ve been out
I have had no voice to shout
I’ve been cut and I’ve been torn
I have wept and I have mourned

I have begged and I have borrowed
I have hated all tomorrows
I have wallowed in the dark
I have grappled with the spark

But I am wise and I am strong
And I can push forever on
For courageous is my will
Though my insides seep and spill

I climb the wall that is myself
To sit upon the shelf
And peer into the crowd
Beneath their hazy shroud

Is that me I see beneath?
Will this knowing I bequeath?
To the girl I used to be
Will I tell her what I see?

If I do, will I be false?
Will I eradicate the choice?
That led you here to me
Am I caged or am I free?

"I am proud to say that I am a fortunate homosexual man. I am very blessed to be who I am." Ricky Martin

2010-06-07T09:00:00.001-04:00

Ricky Martin comes out on his website.

"A few months ago I decided to write my memoirs, a project I knew was going to bring me closer to an amazing turning point in my life. From the moment I wrote the first phrase I was sure the book was the tool that was going to help me free myself from things I was carrying within me for a long time. Things that were too heavy for me to keep inside. Writing this account of my life, I got very close to my truth. And thisis something worth celebrating.

For many years, there has been only one place where I am in touch with my emotions fearlessly and that's the stage. Being on stage fills my soul in many ways, almost completely. It's my vice. The music, the lights and the roar of the audience are elements that make me feel capable of anything. This rush of adrenaline is incredibly addictive. I don't ever want to stop feeling these emotions. But it is serenity that brings me to where I'm at right now. An amazing emotional place of comprehension, reflection and enlightenment. At this moment I'm feeling the same freedom I usually feel only on stage, without a doubt, I need to share.

Many people told me: "Ricky it's not important", "it's not worth it", "all the years you've worked and everything you've built will collapse", "many people in the world are not ready to accept your truth, your reality, your nature". Because all this advice came from people who I love dearly, I decided to move on with my life not sharing with the world my entire truth. Allowing myself to be seduced by fear and insecurity became a self-fulfilling prophecy of sabotage. Today I take full responsibility for my decisions and my actions.

If someone asked me today, "Ricky, what are you afraid of?" I would answer "the blood that runs through the streets of countries at war...child slavery, terrorism...the cynicism of some people in positions of power, the misinterpretation of faith." But fear of my truth? Not at all! On the contrary, It fills me with strength and courage. This is just what I need especially now that I am the father of two beautiful boys that are so full of light and who with their outlook teach me new things every day. To keep living as I did up until today would be to indirectly diminish the glow that my kids where born with. Enough is enough. This has to change. This was not supposed to happen 5 or 10 years ago, it is supposed to happen now. Today is my day, this is my time, and this is my moment.

These years in silence and reflection made me stronger and reminded me that acceptance has to come from within and that this kind of truth gives me the power to conquer emotions I didn't even know existed.

What will happen from now on? It doesn't matter. I can only focus on what's happening to me in this moment. The word "happiness" takes on a new meaning for me as of today. It has been a very intense process. Every word that I write in this letter is born out of love, acceptance, detachment and real contentment. Writing this is a solid step towards my inner peace and vital part of my evolution.

I am proud to say that I am a fortunate homosexual man. I am very blessed to be who I am.

RM"

"Life still goes on."

2010-06-04T09:00:00.005-04:00

Anonymous.

leftover.

“Tower your last chances, make them endless; draw the line, limitless, and pretend the world goes to sleep when you do – stare down and confess your fear of heights, of everything – because you need rest. Your body is its own worn ages, matted at the seams from attempted war's rages, stringing comfort like a chandelier. Light up this tower, with smoke blowing aimlessly in any given direction, whichever way you speak to it; letting you and yourself know you are all alone in this darkest night as the world falls asleep. They make it through the night and you just breathe in the familiar taste of fear, which lingers on like a slow song, playing to remind you life still goes on, even if you stop breathing. Even after your heart stops beating and this tower falls, they will dream of your endless, limitless fear and pretend like it isn’t real, like it won’t be there when they wake up. As fear fills everyone’s cup, you tell yourself once more that you are alone and allow yours to overflow.”

"Drooping like a flower gone without water."

2010-06-02T15:00:00.000-04:00

Gabrielle, age 26. California.

“Captured One Hot Summer Day”

the look of her, mouth twisted
down at the corners, drooping like
a flower gone without water.

it was taken years ago - at a party,
too much ego trapped in the clear line
of her throat.

the day before she opened the
length of her arm with a paring knife
her mother left sticky with apple.

the blood (a frothing sea of it) must be
there, you can see the waves coming
in behind the slope of her shoulders.

the thumbprint smears make her eyes
shadowed caves, poring over one moment
where her bones delineated themselves.

if you look long enough you can
see the whites of her eyes, like an
animal caught in a snare.

if you look long enough her mouth
reflects back the desperation in
hot summer days where

she was captured, drawn and quartered
into a reflection that would
last a lifetime.

"Rap was my drug. It used to get me high and then it stopped getting me high." Eminem

2010-06-02T09:00:00.001-04:00

From MTV's website.

Eminem almost died.

The iconic MC tells Vibe magazine in its forthcoming issue that during a relapse, he overdosed on pills he acquired from an "acquaintance" and almost became one of music's greatest casualties.

"My doctor told me those mysterious new pills were methadone, which is used to wean heroin addicts off dope," he told the mag in its forthcoming "Real Rap" issue.

"Had I known it was methadone, I probably wouldn't have taken it. But as bad as I was back then, I can't even say 100 percent for sure. My doctor told me the amount of methadone I'd taken was equivalent to shooting up four bags of heroin. Even when they told me I almost died, it didn't click."

Em admitted to the publication that he was an addict and through his uncontrolled dependence, he began to identify with his mother, with whom he's had several public battles over the last decade.

"It's no secret I had a drug problem," he said. "If I was to give you a number of Vicodin I would actually take in a day? Anywhere between 10 to 20. Valium, Ambien, the numbers got so high I don't even know what I was taking."

After suffering a knee injury that required surgery, he was not prescribed painkillers, which led him to search his house for drugs he'd hidden.

"I started looking around my house to see if I had a stash box of Vicodin," he said. "I'm ransacking my house, finally find something in the basement, in a little napkin, seven and a half Vicodin — the big extra-strength ones — and a few Valium." He relapsed, and soon admitted he was an addict.

"It never once hit me that drug addiction runs in my family," he said. "Now that I understand that I'm an addict, I definitely have compassion for my mother. I get it."

Eminem told the magazine that he's been sober for a year, and that making his forthcoming LP, Relapse, due May 19 — from which "Old Time's Sake," a new song featuring Dr. Dre, leaked on Monday (May 4) — "I wanted to make an overall statement — I'm back. It was a slow process. You gotta remember I hadn't recorded a song sober in seven years. So it took me awhile to even feel like I could record a song sober ... I don't know the last time I shot a video sober, without drinking or taking anything. It's been years.

"I almost feel like a little kid again with rap," he continued. "I wanna play around with different flows. If I don't feel like it's what I'm fully capable of, if there's one weak line, I wanna change it. Rap was my drug. It used to get me high and then it stopped getting me high. Then I had to resort to other things to make me feel that. Now rap's getting me high again."

"i am not hungry. i already ate."

2010-05-26T09:00:00.002-04:00

Anonymous, age 18

circulation

twenty three beads on each side. forty six in total. red beads; red is a primary color. a bracelet, my bracelet, tightly surrounding my wrist. i am not hungry. i already ate. i do not feel well. i will eat later. i tell myself what to believe, tell everyone the familiar lies that are supposed to disguise my hunger. the number changes as i feel the release, running miles around my subtle disbelief that maybe i am already enough. following the rules i have applied to my life. collar bones are beautiful, my legs are fat, the feeling after not eating for a day makes you stronger - imagine the feeling after going on longer, running on empty, pretending like you are not wasting away. count the calories. calories in, energy out. burn more than you eat. one hundred is a big number, do not break one hundred, you must weigh ninety five when you graduate next fall, i remind myself over and over, the memories from back when i was only ten. you need to eat. they remind me of why i am so weak, so cold, so drained of life, so on the edge, to tired, so consumed with sickness. i have a red beaded bracelet with forty six beads that fits around my bony left wrist and subtly reminds me that all my thoughts are disordered, and i eat weird and that everyone is right. that the mirror is lying and that i am making myself sick, dying to be something i have always been. it reminds me of the fear of becoming fat, but it twists it around, making me feel like i already am and that i have to take control before i lose it all. it is not all about beautiful. it has never been only about beautiful. it has been about control, when i became a vegetarian five years ago. it has been about being accepted, feeling like skinny is all i have. it is about fear, of self and of growing and of getting older. it is about the voices from my childhood that replayed over and over, never letting me forget, giving me something to hold onto when i felt like i had nothing left, that turned into lies i find hard to turn away from. it is about feeling, about dealing with everything, about living life with a sense of belonging, even if i only fit into the statistics. it is about a story, my story, of how my life began: three months too early, one pound and six ounces, and how i survived, even though the doctors doubted. my life story about where i am today, how i got here. a story i am willing to tell four hundred times more, because maybe someone is listening and maybe they will see that i know what it feels like to desperately try to change the reflection, and i know the hold it has, but i know freedom exists on the outside. i have a little red beaded bracelet as a reminder of who i once was, of the anorexic sickness that i lived, but that was never really me, that was never all i was. there is more to the story, my story. there is always so much more than the skin and bones, or the red beaded bracelet cutting off her circulation.

"I literally wanted to disappear." Portia de Rossi, actor

2010-05-25T09:00:00.000-04:00

"[While anorexic] it just seemed like I literally wanted to disappear. And now I would like to reappear.” Portia de Rossi, actor

Read a great interview with here (the bits about having an eating disorder are on pages 3 and 4)

Look out for her upcoming memoir in Fall 2010. Read more about it here.

"He says please don't give up on me yet."

2010-05-24T09:00:00.003-04:00

Colleen, age 14. Kentucky.

GENRE: SONG
Title: Beautiful Sight

I can't believe what I see before my eyes
It's such a beautiful sight
I can finally sleep at night
and I'll be alright

(Bridge:)
Healing is hard
and it takes a long time
but you just got to try
It's hard to make it on your own
It's easier if you have a hand to hold

(Chorus:)
It's not so cold
and it's the last day of November
I've realized now
That I've made it so far from so close
It's not so cold
and it's the last day of November
I've realized now
That I've held on for so long
instead of letting go

Maybe it's his eyes
or his crooked smile
that makes me believe everything will be alright
and tonight I'll fall asleep into a dream
of an almost reality
because I finally believe that I can be happy

(Bridge and Chorus)

He says please don't give up on me yet
Makes me want to cry
I finally realize
I have a purpose in life
Oh, and it's such a beautiful sight.

"I can't get through a day without an OCD thought. I wish I could." Howie Mandell, comedian

2010-05-20T09:00:00.004-04:00

"I can't get through a day without an OCD thought. I wish I could." Howie Mandell, comedian

You can read about Howie's experiences with OCD here.

Also check out his book Here's the Deal: Don't Touch Me.

"Where hope grows."

2010-05-18T09:00:00.000-04:00

Sarah Plumb, age 31. Ontario, Canada.

My brain is chaotic...it never stops...it chatters incessantly...lying to me. I need peace but I'm often on the edge of insanity..SCREAM, CRY, LAUGH like mad. I know I'm in here somewhere but I'm lost in a sea of sadness, obsession and compulsion. Where did it all start?
I see a tiny soul, fresh, new and bewildered by her surroundings. Danger, rushing, fear, cries. Her mother disappears...little soul didn't get to touch her. She was floating in a peaceful ocean then ripped out and damaged. Fear, FEAR rules her life now. Even sleep no longer calms. Such fear, of abandonment, loss, even fear of fear. It's all consuming. Such a change from ocean to sea--nightmares, no peace.

Then finally a light--a hot pink ray of hope. She can't always see it but it's there...always waiting to be freed. It's her natural, pure state. So close yet sometimes so far. So much ground covered but so much more yet to be travelled. The hot pink hope will find her...or is it she that uncovers that hope? There's so much unexplored but life gets in the way. Life is exhausting...too much. She needs balance. The edge can reveal beautiful scenic views. Maybe the edge of sanity and insanity IS the balance. Maybe it's where hope grows.

"Suffering will molt itself completely from your calloused, broken skin."

2010-05-14T09:00:00.000-04:00

Kina Nicole, age 17. California.

Ssself:
So, you’re a sick little girl, eh? Think you’ve been broken? Well, when you get to have has many scars as I do, understand that any suffering will molt itself completely from your calloused, broken skin.. Snakes are vulnerable when their vibrant patterns- the diamond back rattle snake: like a vintage disco shirt, bold paisley stretched across a young woman’s blooming breasts; begin to stretch and fade. Its then though, you realize this stop was well needed, a time to let go of everything that once inhibited you while sober and conscious. It feels good to pick off those remaining dermis flakes, still clinging onto the old you, the you that no one liked. Get that last one, DNA attainment isn’t a deciding factor, the flicks of emotion pressing against the naturally enunciated lining on your soft, unspoken lips will deteriorate when this earth is moist and ready, along with the rest of your insecure self. New, tight confidence suffocating tender muscles. When you coil in anticipation; pseudo-anxiety fumes leak between your scales, compensating the lack of what would be there had you raced to the finish line-genuine fear, the predator is led under false pretenses and is oblivious to what his imminent actions would cause. Only a short breath away, his malicious intent sent chilling vibrations into the innermost backbone you just grew and you bit off the man’s prick. Confidence tastes good, you sense the air with forked hissing around the wounded thing, and you decide that you're going to swallow his, whole.

"The heart puts the head to work "

2010-05-11T09:00:00.000-04:00

Nafeesah Haliru, age 17. Nigeria.

LOVE SONG
Under the moonlight
Without a prelude
Our hearts formed chorus
In rhythm of ecstasy they beat

Descrescendo to crescendo
Bounding in harmony
In the gentle breeze
Our fears blew away

In speechless melodies
Our hearts kept racing
Love flowing in high tempo
We gave in

In duration of interval
Our hearts reached out
With no doubts
Hitched we re in love s chord

In the mist of stars
In unison they sang
Triad (passion, dreams, desires)
Magically turned into reality

Passing throuph dried leaves
Hearts met in the middle
The highest pitci of emotions...
Flowing through

Under the moonlight
Differences we let go
Passionately we held on
To the slow music we danced

IN YOUR EYES
The fire of my desire
In your sight all are quenched

The power of your gaze
Cleansing thoroughly my heart doubts

Crystal clear...So pure
With a free mind I live

Star-like...ever sparkling
It bauble me with rays of hope

Perfection I've seen...
That motivate the soul

Inspired by a glance
The heart puts the head to work

Out and about
Sights I've captured but no similarities

The future is not certain
But confidently I passed moments of uncertainty

Lost in mystery
I remain calm like the deep blue sea

Bewildered by ways of life
Steadily...pieces found their places

High have gone the pace of time
Smoothly I sailed

The light that shines...
Through the thick nights and heavy days

All I found
In your eyes

"Feeling like i can break free."

2010-05-10T09:00:00.000-04:00

Priscilla Hennen, age 27. Leesburg, Virginia.

rise.

i live this life
scarred and broken
uncomfortable in my own flesh.
the pain and fear
rising burning within
stealing my breath
threatening to engulf me.
my only escape
comes closer to destroying me
every time i give in.
i hit my knees
crying out to something
that i can't see
feeling the waves
wash over me
feeling the warmth
feeling the love
feeling like i can break free.
as soon as i feel
a bit of peace
the sadness
it rises.

"Everything circles around and back again."

2010-05-07T09:00:00.000-04:00

Anonymous, age 17.

Guilty of Goodbye

I need to get away and
I play the radio loud
When I drive in my car
Because it makes me feel less alone

And you are in the seat beside me
But you are not here
So I wave at everyone that we pass,
And it makes me feel less alone

My worth falls out, dignity worn thin
Everything circles around and back again
I cut the chains, I cut the switch,
And no longer do I have to feel alone

There may be no shoes larger
Than the ones I have outgrown
But, in time, you might understand
That nothing feels more like home

"I can't even cry it out...Not even a thousand tears."

2010-05-06T00:05:00.005-04:00

Nafeesah Haliru, age 17. Nigeria.

I HATE THIS PART
I hate this part
When everything is so cold
My head knowing you gone...My heart believing you would always be here

I hate this part
When all I feel is this hurt in my heart
Even though I have to smile to make believe all is well

I hate this part
When I just sit with pictures of you running through my mind
Wishing years could go back to bring you next to me

I hate this part
When all the memories of you close to me bring up the oppurtunities of saying the words
I LOVE YOU

I hate this part the most
When I see you run past me
Only to see it was my mind playing with my heart.

CONSCIENCE SMITTEN
In the pool of confusions
I longed for answers
Dried leaves in heavy winds
Dancing to the rhythm of the breeze
My mind...My mind
Is not at set

Crawling on wounded knees
In the agonies of sufferings
I strived for my freedom
With a teary eye I watched
My rights...My rights
Snatched by evils of hearts

Through time I walked
Days into nights
With all solemnities
I craved for this moment
But now...But now
Silently I watched it pass

Lost in the wind of love
A home I found in a heart
Dream-like yet so real
A hit was never close mind
O love...O love
Reality I face

A THOUSAND TEARS
Looking out of my window
All I could think of was your last smile to me
It has been long...more like ages but that moment has frozen in time
Your sweet words...
Your words of confidence...
Keep ringing in my head
You were mine and I just don't understand why my hands can't reach you now
Is it anything I said?
Is it what I didn t do?
There are thousands and thousands of questions that still remain un-answered
In my heart...I feel you so close
It's hard to believe you re gone
Awake...Memories never let seconds pass
Asleep...Dreams never let your face fade
I feel you in my heart
Stronger than ever I know I LOVE YOU
Days and nights...You keep passing me but why can't you just stop
Just for a moment
Not words
No words...could ever put what my heart carries down
Not tears
No tears I've not cried
I feel it in my heart
Yet I can t put it into words
I can't even cry it out...Not even a thousand tears

"Cutting a line that starts out thin."

2010-05-05T09:30:00.002-04:00

K. Quimby, age 19. North Carolina.

Done With A Twist

Feeling the cool tile floor against her face

No one to warm her in a big embrace

She wonders how she got like this

Looking down at her cut up wrists

On her wrists she sees unbearable scars

This time she took it way too far

Putting the razor to her skin

Cutting a line that starts out thin

Going deeper than ever before

She just lays there on the floor

As the blood flows out of her wrist

Using the razor for just one last twist

Letting all the blood drain

She feels no more pain

It’s over and done with

Another scar with a twist

Picking herself up off the floor

She is heading to the door

Grasps the door knob tight

She says it’s just another night

"You will drown in your own sorrow."

2010-05-04T11:22:00.000-04:00

Carol Linton, age 38

RAINDROP
The sobbing of the rain
I hear her collapse in pain
On the grey slab
splatter and opened wound
trickle a tear, or two
and you will drown in your own sorrow
an ocean is man made

"Barely there, striving for a reflection you will never reach."

2010-05-03T11:25:00.003-04:00

Now that the poetry contest is over, YouMakeMeFeelLessAlone is is back with posts from YOU! Check back weekly for new posts...and send in your prose, poems, and artwork. Read the submission guidelines here.

Your words are powerful. Your words can help people. Share them.

Anonymous, age 18
[step one:]
"my life in a manila folder, scripted for diagnosis. they quote me, writing down my pain of logic, treating it as a side affect. i am scheduled a next appointment - policy. i am considered by statistics, their only determination to cure me. as i am introduced to my aid, they mark my progress with another prescription. i am given a new prospective to life, with vague conception beyond these sterile walls: they are creating my recovery out of medical terms i am bound to understand someday, yet i am reminded 'this is the easiest part.' as i stumble into yet another step towards..... i wonder where it all ends."

[redefine me:]
"one hand on your protruding hip bone, one finger down your throat, breathing deeply in denial, convincing smile, hiding the frantic rush of control. running on empty desperately after a shallow sense of value to fill you up; wasting away in a media driven prospective, giving you little room to see. you feel the gentle break of identity as you fit into the style, conforming to the paper doll appeal. barely there, striving for a reflection you will never reach; dying to impress the goddess of thin. they glimpse across your presence, not knowing the girl blinded by the sight, believing the lies telling her she is not enough. and the memory of beauty is all that remains as you lose yourself. 'beauty, redefine me.....' was the beginning of disaster, Beautiful. they forget to tell you the truth."

The winning poem, a Q&A with the author, and the five "honorable mention" poems!

2010-04-30T09:35:00.001-04:00

And the winner of the National Poetry Month Contest is . . . Joshua Diehl!

His incredible poem is reposted below. I've included a little bit about why I chose this piece as the winner. There's also a Q&A with the Joshua about his inspirations.

Here are the five wonderful poets who received "honorable mentions!" Their poems are reposted at the at the end of this entry.

HG, age 17, “A Villanelle”

Allie Marie Birch, age 14, “White Rose”

James William Cowan, age 21, “Untitled”

Libby, age 20, “Rest in Peace”

Maryann H., age 20, “Skin Deep”

Congratulations to all the winners . . . and to all who had the courage to submit their work!

Untitled, Joshua Diehl, age 17

The man across the room

is bending a silver spoon

With his mind

The only thing that flexes is sorrow when I use mine

I take a breath through my ears and the ambiance fills my brain

For a moment it is enough

To convince me that I am not insane

I love you, mid-morning rain

You give me the amnesia to forget away

The struggle of loneliness, the uncomforts of a twin-sized bed

Because only one woman falls asleep here in my head

Call it hopeless or call it foreshadowing

I can’t tell now where I am because my eyes are rattling

There are padded rooms for dangerous people

Holy books in sacred steeples

I remember the faces but I forgot the beautiful people

I have friends here

Around their necks they hang bells

They call this place home

I call this prison hell

It is likely that I am in a mental hospital

But the drugs make it difficult to tell

Why did I pick this poem? There are so many things about this poem that work well…and here are a few that stand out to me. First, is how well the rhyming suits the poem. Rhyming is often very hard to pull off, but there is something about the inconsistent rhythm that fits with the subject matter. Second, the dark humor at the end is really effective. You don’t know whether or not you can trust what the speaker is saying. That was a nice twist. Third, I loved that the author created his own word: “uncomforts.” Finally, and most importantly, I thought that imagery was beautiful and very thought provoking. The image I was most struck with was “around their necks they hang bells.” I spent some time wondering what the author was referring to here. The only thing I could think of was a cow wearing a bell around its neck while it’s out to pasture or being herded. For me, those images connected well to the theme of being in an institutional setting.

I wanted to ask the author what he was envisioning there…and that inspired me to do a short Q&A with him.

Can you tell me a little bit about yourself?

My name is Joshua Diehl. I am a seventeen-year-old living in northern Texas with my mother and two sisters. Nothing means more to me than the written word, and writing helps to alleviate my anxiety.

What inspired you to write this poem?

What little meaningful inspiration I manage to acquire is a result of my inner toils, the relentless aching that boils and floods the corners of my mind and hangs from my heart with the weight of a thousand vampire bats. It inspires me to recognize that I am not alone in that grueling condition. If you are reading this, you inspire me. I care for you.

What’s the last thing you read that really blew you away?

“Did the hospital specialize in poets and singers, or was it that poets and singers specialized in madness? ... What is it about meter and cadence and rhythm that makes their makers mad?” --Susanna Kaysen

Who are you favorite writers? Has reading their work influenced you? If so, how?

Dave Eggers is most certainly among my favorite writers. I particularly enjoy his very personal literary style and tremendous knack for dialogue. A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius is a beautiful read, and I would recommend it to anyone. I have very recently taken interest in the work of the 13th-century Persian poet, Rumi. A quote of his that I am considerably fond of is: “This is how you slip into your infinite home: Close your eyes and surrender.”

Here are the five poems that received honorable mentions.

HG, age 17

A Villanelle

Breathe in and think, "Everything will stay,"

Lying alone on a summer night,

Exhale and convince myself, "okay."

Struggling to keep emotions at bay,

Anxious that all I love's taking flight,

Breathe in and think, "Everything will stay."

Foreseeing the fees that will be payed,

Trying to keep my eye on the light,

Exhale and convince myself, "okay."

Squeeze my eyes shut, wish it all away;

Too often these battles are tense and trite,

Breathe in and think, "Everything will stay."

Morose when happiness goes astray,

White-hot flames we should seldom ignite.

Exhale and convince myself, "okay."

Sitting in bed, I plead as I pray

For sanctity, only for a day.

Breathe in and think "Everything will stay,"

Exhale and convince myself, "okay."

Allie Marie Birch, age 14

White Rose

My heart is gray, but it still beats with a white rose laced between my fingertips.

It wraps around my heart as the petals fall into my soul.

As the vines grow my love expands even more.

The thorns sometimes prick but I understand.

The petals whither and decay over time.

They disappear as if they weren't there.

My heart absorbed the color of the petals,

Now its pure white.

But the thorns keep pricking me.

Then I begin to bleed.

My heart turns red.

The deadly vines dissolve and die.

My heart is then alive.

All because of a little,

White Rose...

James William Cowan, age 21

I wake to the smell of rain

Each one dies in vain

The cement has no need

For the water that feeds

Libby, age 20

Rest in Peace

Little girl there's no need to fear

I'm going to heal from these horrifying years

but in order for me to move forward

you have to listen to these words with courage

the abuse was not your fault

here was no way for you to scream for help

Little girl I need you to understand

he can no longer hurt you with the touch of his hand

he's far away from you

I know what he did makes you feel very, very blue

but a better life awaits

so you can stop planning your escape

Little girl you have to stop blaming yourself

it's okay to let go and get up

you don't need to haunt me anymore

I'm dealing with your memories hard core

one day I'll sew up these broken wings

so let go of all your hatred and be free

Little girl you have to stop playing your tricks

you're holding me hostage at the wrists

you have to let go for good this time

so I can get myself together and be fine

you have to stop pretending you're okay

our paths have crossed and I know you're in a broken state

Little girl it's not too late

our soul can come back from the grave

but your shadow is holding me back

I need you to lay down and relax

I promise this nightmare will come to an end

I'm no longer afraid of myself or him

Little girl I'm not trying to forget you

you've done an incredible job holding on to this as I grew

so lay down your head and rest

I'm going to take this painful load off your chest

the healing is coming but not in one piece

but don't worry, I promise it's coming please believe

Little girl it's time for you to rest in peace

so put the past behind you and breathe

go back and play on the swing

remember the days before you had broken wings

we may never get justice for this crime

but finally, you can now rest until the end of time

Maryann H., age 20

Skin Deep

My mom falls back a few steps

to match my pace,

and we continue walking on

side by side

in silence.

She reaches for my hand

and I let her take it,

feeling the gentle caress of her hand

as she runs her finger along the curve

from forefinger to thumb

and back again,

reading the nail marks on my hand

like Braille beneath her fingertips.

She wants to understand

and so do I

as I look down at my hand in hers,

see the bright pink scratches

that I had created,

scattered along the arch of my hand

like fallen needles off an old pine.

She pulls me close

and tells me she has known me my whole life

tells me she has known me for the nine months

before I was born

and that she doesn’t want me

to hurt myself,

that it hurts her too.

I allow myself to fall deeper into her embrace,

fall back into a warm world of

my own heartbeat

and gentle kicks felt from above.

I want to tell her that I’ll be okay,

but instead I close my eyes

and let the world around me be darkness

for a few moments longer.

Final poetry contest entries!

2010-04-26T10:02:00.006-04:00

These are the final entries to the poetry contest! A big thank you to everyone who sent in poems and read/commented on the submissions. To find out the first prize winner and the five runners up, check back on April 30th! (All winners will be notified before the 30th.)

Don't forget, http://www.youmakemefeellessalone.blogspot/ is a year round place for you to post poems, stories, and art about your struggles with mental illness. Your words are powerful. Your words can help people. Share them.

Sarah Plumb, age 31
Behind the Smile
My smile
it's my signature
everyone knows it
people compliment me on it
My eyes too
They're bright, green with yellow flecks
Ironically they're more beautiful
after I cry
People are always shocked
when they find out
You?? You have depression?
Surely not
You're always so bubbly
so happy, so alive
And it's true
I am happy
Happiness is my true state
But I have a disease
sometimes it envelopes me
Only those who really know me
ever really see it or really get
that it's real
Am I such a great actress?
Or is it just worse when I'm alone
Probably both
It's always there
like a birthmark
an anxious, depressed birthmark
Visible if you know where to look
But hidden to most
It's always there
Sometimes it seems
larger
Sometimes it can fade away to almost nothing
I like when it fades
but it's part of me
I accept it
I look on it with love
and hope for peace

Anonymous, age 18
[safe place to fall:]
"yesterday you asked me if i would go to your funeral, if you had one, and i said i did not know. i stood at the wall, starring down, and you asked me if i thought it was a far way down, and i said i did not know. your eyes got lost in the distance as you stepped towards the edge, and i pretended not to feel the pressure against my arm as i gently held you back; you asked me if i thought it would kill you to fall, and i said i did not know. i lied. the answers haunted the back of my mind as i fought against the thought of losing you. i was too scared to say yes. i contemplated the same questions in my mind, breathing in the familiar sense of having nothing left. it feels like death, standing so close to mid air, reliving all the moments that brought you there. it feels like death to look in someones eyes and to see yourself staring back, wanting so bad to take the emptiness away from them so they can feel again. but the end never seemed so far away as i promised more than i thought i could ever believe in. tomorrow came, and i need you to know i love you. i cannot lose you. and even though i said i did not know, i know more than you dared to ask. you taught me how to believe that everything happens for a reason - even when death tries to steal you away, there is someone else standing there anticipating the fall, telling you 'i do not know how or when, but it will all be okay. i promise.' and all you can say is 'yes' - to life and to believing in saving a life. no lie."

Anonymous, 21
Don’t Be Fooled
Wow, who is that girl in the picture?
She looks like the happiest person on earth
Huge smile, glittering eyes, must be
I wish I was happy
Even half as happy
It’s better than nothing, torture, and fear
And look at this one
She has so many friends
They look so close
I wish I had friends
Yeah I know people
But they just put up with me
And they don’t even really know me
Acquaintances not friends
Awww, look there she is with a guy
I wonder if it’s her boyfriend
She must have guys chasing her all the time
I wish guys liked me
A guy would never want a girl like me
I’m so lonely
There she is posing on the beach with friends
She looks so care free
I want to be free like that
But I’m trapped by my problems…
And who I am
One last photo of what appears to be the happiest girl on earth
I wish I could recognize her
“Hey you, do you know who this is?”
“Don’t be silly, that’s you…
From yesterday”

Manar H., age 15
it’s murky today
not quite opaque
i can almost see
clear through the lake

i used to sit there
underwater
i used to sit there
fit to slaughter

i’d swallow silt
and bathe in mud
washed in guilt
with grime for suds

i’d seek the sun
and talk to none
i’d hide from light
and yearn for flight

but it was dark
always dark
and it was still
very still

and when i thrashed
the water held me
and when i crashed
the water felled me

one day i crawled out
bruised, sick, and dirty
one day i found out
the sun couldn’t stop the hurting

now i sit on the bank
and stare in the mirror,
the dark face of the lake
and it couldn’t be clearer

the reflection i see
is my battered soul
the darkness is but
nature’s cruel toll

but it’s murky today
not quite transparent
still, you could almost say
that change is apparent

TJ, age 60
I feel it coming
the unwelcome visitor
who stays too long
and demands too much

Powerless to stop it
I can only watch
as darkness arrives
and makes itself at home

It opens my mail
and hides the letters
but leaves the bills
for me to find

It takes the space
that once was mine
and redecorates
without my approval

It moves into my bed
and pushes me over
steals my sleep
and the blankets, too

It will grow tired of me
and slip away
but not soon enough
and never for long

One of these days
I'll pack its bags
escort it to the door
and send it away

And next time
maybe I'll remember
to change the locks
before it returns

Angela R. Kurtz, age 42
Jack
R.I.P (09/26/2009) Suicide
I felt you early in my room
For only you could be
Anywhere that you want
So then maybe
You felt the need to come to me
Cause maybe you feel
That you left too soon
And left behind something
Very real
Someone you loved and
Needed you cause after all
My dear I loved you so
Very much and always wanted you here.
I felt you early in my room
And woke up with all tears
For the one I loved has left me
Here to get through all the years
Without his smile or his laugh
And this is all I know
I miss you baby and I cannot
Lie I am miserable for sure
I can’t forget the times you held me
In your arms so tight and let me deep
Into your soul and I never wanted
You to let go
Cause without you baby I am so lost
And trying to make my way
But knowing you will never
Be in my bed again
Is killing me slowly and I’m
Trying to be the strong one
you left behind.
I woke this morn and felt you here
And the tears they just came out
The way you used to brush my cheek
And then without a doubt
I knew you loved me and that
You could feel me inside and out
Now the days are long and the
Nights are too
And when I feel you here
It makes it harder to let go
And get on with my years
For only I can make my life
And this is what I know
I love you baby without a doubt
But now I need to go and do
The one thing that is so hard
Is say goodbye to you
I miss you baby and always will
But now I have to go
And live my life accordingly
And make you proud for sure
Goodbye Baby and please don’t
Come visit me again
For I cannot take the memories and tears
That come with them
I’m moving on or at least I will
Try and make this life complete
For only I can do this on my own
Two feet
Goodbye my love and all things
That could have been for us
I loved you then and I love you now
And never will forget
But until then when we meet again,
I know you will understand
You cannot come to visit me ever
Ever again
Please rest in peace
And remember me for in my
Heart to stay are all the days
That we shared and a love
That will never go away

Adrian S, age 15

I wish only peace, just a moment of rest

But I can't forget, because I'm a mess

Shades of my past, futures of demons

Writhing in my skin, who, alone, can free us?

Running from dreams, chasing nightmares

Seeking some solace, in hope of repair

I'm broken, unwound

I'm bound to my fear

Someone see me, I might disappear

I fade

I die

No one will care

Yet, I hear there's a place

I can abandon my despair

Perhaps, there's a light

To show me there...

Ellie, age 21

We Weren't A Cliche

She has been my home. For the past

five years, she has been the base I

touch to feel secure. You wouldn't have

predicted it, not if you'd known us then.

I was an athlete, a gifted student who was

trying semi-successfully not to fall

apart. She was already broken, with a

recklessness I envied.

So when my control started to slip; when I

couldn't hide the tears, the cuts, the building

anger, she attempted to catch me.

And together, we crashed to the ground.

The sound was deafening.

And, really, that is when the story starts,

because we didn't stand back up.

Instead, we grabbed each others blistering,

broken shoulders and shook. Screamed into

one anothers face. For years we stayed that way,

through treatments, through failures, through everyone's

disapproval, we hung on. If we couldn't fix each other,

there was no reason to save ourselves.

I don't know when it changed. I really

couldn't tell you why. But we learned it was alright

to not always be in the others view. Today, she's decided

to leave, to move to a new state, a new life. I can't

figure out how to let go of her, but I am her friend.

And for both our sakes,

I can't ask her not to go.

A. R. Fantroy, age 18

Above the Influence

Well it wasnt at all hard to see
Through all those heartbreaks and misery
That led up to this tragedy
That killed most of her family
That explained all of this irony
That formed from that cruelty
That never seemed too clear to me
That was stupid and oh-so blurry
In those last tears I see
Falling oh-so beautifully
From his gravelly face we see
He misses her oh-so dearly
From that drunken party
Where she went home unknowingly
She would die so violently
From being drunk and deadly
That he was almost dead and dreary
But it was just her who left willingly
Thinking she could go on livingly
Under the influence now we see
Leads to dying and debauchery
And losing all that cared for me
Because of all the stupidity
Heres a lesson in life we see
Dont drink and drive and you wont lose me

Amanda E. Mtz., age 16

I don't want to be...me.

I don’t want to be crazy.

I don’t want to walk through life scared…of myself.

Scared of what I might do.

Slit my wrists.

Jump out of a window.

I don’t want to be crazy.
I don’t want to be over medicated or

numb.

Not anymore.

I don’t want to be crazy.

I don’t want to lose myself.

Whoever that may be.

I don’t want to feel like this

Panicked.

Scared .

Lost .

Dead.

It’s all in my head they say.

The Panic

Fear

Voices…

So I am crazy

but I don’t want to be.

How do I live with my own worst enemy staring me in the face every morning?

When the mirror lies and the voices yell?
I don’t need your torture, I already hate myself.

I don’t want to be crazy.
Leave me alone.
You, Me, Whoever you may be.

Margaret LaBombard, age 31
"Back Away Slowly"
It's not that I don't love you
I'm just tired of your ways
I want it all to break apart
And for you to go away

I had to plant my feet
So not to hold your hand
Things are hectic Oh so hectic

So why spend time if all I feel is sorry
That can't be want you want

Turn the picture face down and leave
Pretend it never happened
What ever works for you
Baby I'm through.

Pattybill, age 56

Advice for Alice

A spider

Leads you to a rabbit hole

With

Slippery slopes.

Once inside,

You surrender.

Daddy Darkness

Seduces you;

You fall

In Love.

He doesn’t

Take care

Of you.

You eat potato chips & onion dip for dinner, wear dirty pajamas and push greasy hair out of your eyes. Your mail resembles the Leaning Tower of Piza. Your bed stinks.

Find the window.

There is a sign.

Stop.

You worry about what everything means and the duplicity of words.

Stop.

Trust me.

I’ve been there &

I got out

Fifth batch of entries to the poetry contest!

2010-04-16T10:21:00.009-04:00

Here's the fifth batch of entries to the poetry contest. Check back next week for the final submissions! Read about the guidelines and the prizes here.
Don't forget to submit your poem by 4/26.

Nafeesah Haliru, age 17
BROKEN
In the deepest of tears
With a fearful heart
Uncertainty filling my mind
Bewildered I stood in reality
Searching through memories

In the darkest of nights
Running through memories of lost love
Stumbling on faults and un-answered questions
Aspen was our relationship
Blown away by the wind

Gone are the sunshine
The stars that sparkle in the darkest
Broken in silence is my heart
Flowing through confusions
Your absence taking me slowly

Cold and lonely amidst uncertainty
Shocked by the hard hit of the hands of love
Shaking in fear of lost
Without a tear I kept crying
Forever gone or forever mine?

Un-noticed days turned to nights
Still time kept walking
Passing with each second
Minutes creeping through me
At a standstill was mine

Slow have gone all the music
With my tears dancing to the melodies
Lyrics lancing my heart
Echos of your name filling my head
With an image of you I made a scene

Uncolorful nature have become
Dead are my flowers in August
In lost beauty of the earth I lived
Wishes are all I’ve got
In the silence of my memories I make a life

Ashley Rose, age 16

It hurts so much to remember the past because,

I had a parent to guide me
A mother who once loved me more than the world
That person no longer exists
I wish I didn't have to watch it drift away
I never asked to lose her love
It all just makes me scream
But I've lost my voice
I've lost my strength
Tell me,
Where can I find you?

Felicia Monique, age 41
My Mirror

It may appear that I ...
stopped turning my mirror around
stopped looking at my own face
have it all figured out
am fixed
unbroken
no longer scathed.

Truth is, I can never stop ...
seeking the reason behind the reason
seeing my faults, imperfections, and flaws
hoping for change and growth with each new breath
learning to be courageous in the moment
looking forward to each sunrise and each sunset.

I know ...
the mark has been missed
the stop sign unseen
the mind unconscious
the trust lost.

I spoke from an unhealed heart
forgot the lesson
placed unexpected expectations
turned the mirror away
seeking and seeing you
forgetting about me
my image
my face.

Today ...
my mirror is in its correct place
unblocked
without its shield
turned toward the owner's face.

Anonymous, age 21
Don’t Be Fooled

Wow, who is that girl in the picture?

She looks like the happiest person on earth

Huge smile, glittering eyes, must be

I wish I was happy

Even half as happy

It’s better than nothing, torture, and fear

And look at this one

She has so many friends

They look so close

I wish I had friends

Yeah I know people

But they just put up with me

And they don’t even really know me

Acquaintances not friends

Awww, look there she is with a guy

I wonder if it’s her boyfriend

She must have guys chasing her all the time

I wish guys liked me

A guy would never want a girl like me

I’m so lonely

There she is posing on the beach with friends

She looks so care free

I want to be free like that

But I’m trapped by my problems…

And who I am

One last photo of what appears to be the happiest girl on earth

I wish I could recognize her

“Hey you, do you know who this is?”

“Don’t be silly, that’s you…

From yesterday”

Allie Marie Birch, age 14
White Rose

My heart is gray, but it still beats with a white rose laced between my fingertips.

It wraps around my heart as the petals fall into my soul.

As the vines grow my love expands even more.

The thorns sometimes prick but I understand.

The petals whither and decay over time.

They disappear as if they weren't there.

My heart absorbed the color of the petals,

Now its pure white.

But the thorns keep pricking me.

Then I begin to bleed.

My heart turns red.

The deadly vines dissolve and die.
My heart is then alive.
All because of a little,
White Rose...

Fourth batch of entries to the poetry contest!

2010-04-09T11:28:00.007-04:00

I've been getting so many submissions that I am posting again this week!

Here's the fourth batch of entries to the poetry contest. Check back next Monday for more! Submit your poem by 4/26. Read the guidelines here.

Ellie H. (aka "EO"), age 34
Sadness, overwhelming
Anxiety, devastating
Plans, have no meaning
Decisions, always questioning
Purpose, always wondering
Meaning, never knowing
People, never trusting
Self, always doubting
Depression, never ending.

Sandra Ogle, age 29
American Scene 23
As it would be known, she was not only alive in her own right;
she was basically all life on earth, including mine.
She was much more vivid to the average person
than I was. Around her, it became hard to breathe.
How does she roll? All the way to the top.
Nothing will be as detailed and compact as it was then,
on the days when I pulled the bark off the cedar tree
in long, curled strips and piled it into loose stacks;
one strong, clear vision.

I took the bark that made others sneeze and drew it near to me.
I took a lost sense of smell and reflected on misunderstandings.
I took the words she said and made my own ideas out of them.

What was hoped for has now passed though, and
in place of avid attention toward what could be, I have these
dried stacks of bark, itchy eyes, and mild headaches.
How does she roll?

Carol Linton, age 38
SLASHED
The blood has congealed
No longer running like a river
No longer spurting like a fountain
It is still, hardened,
Like a ruby a - shining
I cover it up, no longer exposed
To the elements of the world
That would enter and fester
Turn from red to green
Don't want it to be seen

The seamstress sews a beautiful stitch
Straight lined perfection
Now all that is left
Is my imperfection
Of how I will always
be remembered of
How lucky I am
To be alive

Grant-Grey Guda, age 20
Epoch of Love
There will be virtue,
Virtue seen so pure,
Pure virtue forever,
In epoch within time,
Time so close and near,
Near to heart and soul,
Soul that seems lost,
Lost in hate eternally,
Eternally in bane stuck,
Stuck for now at least,
There will be an epoch,
An epoch with peace,
Peace so needed forever,
There will be a time,
A time of love powerful,
Love so infinitely caring,
There will be an age,
An age for the hurting,
The hurting will find,
Find that which is sought,
They will find peace,
Arms shall be discovered,
Discovered in that time,
Arms for caring protection,
That time will be wonderful,
We will live without pain,
All will be happiness,
Happiness within that place,
That place of new pure Eden.

William F Dunn IV, age 29
He was on firm ground.
A sudden mass formed from beneath and rose. He was at the top. A bright future all around is what he saw. A rush of joy, and hope is what he felt.
His love pulsated for where he was and for the peak that provided this place he thought he'd never be.
Overcome by his feelings, he lost sight; lost hi...s footing. He slipped. He fell swiftly towards the now rocky bottom of where he once stood. His mind flooded with how things went awry as he faced the approaching, rocky base. An unexpected branch caught him.
He struggled, not wanting to be where he was before.
He yearned to be on top again, knowing there may be a cumbersome ascent ahead.
What came to him naturally, he will now work diligently to earn what once came to him.
"Fortune favors the bold", and he will climb boldly to regain what he cherishes, this peak, with the mental tools he accumulated during his fall.

Maryann H., age 20
Skin Deep
My mom falls back a few steps
to match my pace,
and we continue walking on
side by side
in silence.
She reaches for my hand
and I let her take it,
feeling the gentle caress of her hand
as she runs her finger along the curve
from forefinger to thumb
and back again,
reading the nail marks on my hand
like Braille beneath her fingertips.
She wants to understand
and so do I
as I look down at my hand in hers,
see the bright pink scratches
that I had created,
scattered along the arch of my hand
like fallen needles off an old pine.
She pulls me close
and tells me she has known me my whole life
tells me she has known me for the nine months
before I was born
and that she doesn’t want me
to hurt myself,
that it hurts her too.
I allow myself to fall deeper into her embrace,
fall back into a warm world of
my own heartbeat
and gentle kicks felt from above.
I want to tell her that I’ll be okay,
but instead I close my eyes
and let the world around me be darkness
for a few moments longer.

Third batch of contest entries!

2010-04-09T11:18:00.017-04:00

Here's the third batch of entries to the poetry contest. Check back next Monday for more! Submit your poem by 4/26.

Melissa Phillips Martin, age 38
MY JOURNEY
Why is this happening?
What did I do?
Why was I born?

I can't do this
I don't want to be here

Dizzy, scared
Heartbeat
Too much

Normal
I can't be

No one understands
Get out
Take pills
That will fix it!

They walk in my shoes
They know it all

I don't want this journey
I'm scared

Karissa Doll, age 17
Mirrors
My eyes are searching
And they find you
A simple blur in my vision
But it's so much more then that
I reach out
But never close enough to touch
Never close enough to feel
I'm never close enough
The image floats away
The blur is gone
And I'm all alone
Nothing to reach
I can't be let down anymore
Except for the mirror
Another blur
I turned it around
I don't want to be her
I've got nothing left
And she mocks it at me
And as much as I want to
I can't change a thing
I've been tied up and beaten
Into this person called me
And the more I try to change
It's all I can be
And I reach out for help
But the blur went away
And I talk to myself
But I never make sense
And my problems are here
And they're going unsolved
And my mind works so fast
But it won't get involved
And my heart is still beating
But will I survive
I've been here for so long
I wonder if I'm alive
And people come and go
But they just don't see me
They just don't hear me
They all blur into one
They all let me down
And in the mirror
Is where the blur can be found
So I shatter the glass
It feels good to see it break
Then I realize I'm feeling
So have I finally escaped
And the shattered pieces
All look at me
They try to keep me here
But I just can't stay
And I'm searching this place
Nothing left
Nothing right
I'm just lost in this feeling
That nothing's alright
Then I hear a voice
Or am I just crazy
I go back to the mirror
And she says she wants to save me
She knows I've got nothing
And that I made her cry
And when I'm looking at her
She looks me straight in the eye
Then I wake up
And I know where I am
The light is so bright
From the window I smashed
And though I got out
The feeling won't go away
That the girl in the mirror
Follows me everyday
And I know it sounds crazy
Because I'm the one in the mirror
But this girl's not me
She's something so unclear
And still I see the blurs
They pass me everyday
And again I reach out
But still too far away
And I don't know what to do
I just feel so insane
And asking for help
Is out of the way
And the mirror holds my secrets
Smashed to bits
And they all call me crazy
And it's starting to fit
But how would it not
I speak to my mirror
And the words she speaks back
I don't want to hear
And my mind is racing
I'm feeling sky high
And somebody's dropped me
So how long 'til I die?

James William Cowan, age 21
I wake to the smell of rain
Each one dies in vain

The cement has no need
For the water that feeds

R. Saxby, age 35
Insecure
standing like a smudged sullen statue
scrutinizing my broken reflection momentary glancing back
is this how people see me as well?
i analyze, i criticize, i close my eyes
contaminating myself with negativity
like a cold shroud clinging to my skin
hands finger tipping face to torso
recoiling away as I disperse into fragments

Libby, age 20
Rest in Peace
Little girl there's no need to fear
I'm going to heal from these horrifying years
but in order for me to move forward
you have to listen to these words with courage
the abuse was not your fault
there was no way for you to scream for help

Little girl I need you to understand
he can no longer hurt you with the touch of his hand
he's far away from you
I know what he did makes you feel very, very blue
but a better life awaits
so you can stop planning your escape

Little girl you have to stop blaming yourself
it's okay to let go and get up
you don't need to haunt me anymore
I'm dealing with your memories hard core
one day I'll sew up these broken wings
so let go of all your hatred and be free

Little girl you have to stop playing your tricks
you're holding me hostage at the wrists
you have to let go for good this time
so I can get myself together and be fine
you have to stop pretending you're okay
our paths have crossed and I know you're in a broken state

Little girl it's not too late
our soul can come back from the grave
but your shadow is holding me back
I need you to lay down and relax
I promise this nightmare will come to an end
I'm no longer afraid of myself or him

Little girl I'm not trying to forget you
you've done an incredible job holding on to this as I grew
so lay down your head and rest
I'm going to take this painful load off your chest
the healing is coming but not in one piece
but don't worry, I promise it's coming please believe

Little girl it's time for you to rest in peace
so put the past behind you and breathe
go back and play on the swing
remember the days before you had broken wings
we may never get justice for this crime
but finally, you can now rest until the end of time

Kina Nicole, age 17

Neither my flesh nor my bones seek truth through this pain
Deceit seeps through my pores and a shield is maintained
Keloids obscure the voice that you strain
The only things that are real cannot be explained
The clock that you watch ticks different than mine
A face with no numbers cannot tell the time
Past, present, or future were never assigned
A moment lived forever, in the absence of mind
Maggots will creep, spiders may crawl
Lashes locked tight, I cannot see them at all
Empires of imagination are built strong and tall
On my sore tippy toes I barely see over the wall
What stands beyond my sight is something unknown
The option to take flight is an option postponed
Everything within these walls I can call for my own
So I’ll continue to waste away in silence, alone

Second batch of poetry contest entries

2010-04-05T09:42:00.005-04:00

Here's the second batch of entries to the poetry contest. Check back next Moday for more!

Submit your poem by 4/26. Read the guidelines here.

Charles Pargo, age 20

Frustration

My frustration is causing anticipation

Because of the decision and hard times I’m facing

Running after something but what am I chasing?

My heart is still but my emotion racing

My thoughts are long and my decisions made

My mistakes and lies have already been paid

But my family I still owe

Because when they needed help I couldn’t open the door

My mind is at a level where my thinking process is higher

I go to sleep warm but wake up cold in a sweat

Thinking about a dream that I can’t forget

I feel pain but I’m not hit

The game is over did I lose or did I quit?

Trying to put my life back together but some pieces don’t fit

I think I’m missing my heart, did you steal it?

Craving freedom but anger I am tasting

Getting past my problems but facing frustrations.

Philip Zyg, age 34

WINTER SPORTS 2

Agonizing laboratory rat in the slush

by a sliding glass door -

a party inside, laughter & cocktails,

he outside, few seconds left

and he dies, with the terminal

image of his female miscarrying -

five poor unborn darlings.

Anonymous, age 17

The man across the room is bending a silver spoon
With his mind
The only thing that flexes is sorrow when I use mine
I take a breath through my ears and the ambiance fills my brain
For a moment it is enough
To convince me that I am not insane
I love you, mid-morning rain
You give me the amnesia to forget away
The struggle of loneliness, the uncomforts of a twin-sized bed
Because only one woman falls asleep here in my head
Call it hopeless or call it foreshadowing
I can’t tell now where I am because my eyes are rattling
There are padded rooms for dangerous people
Holy books in sacred steeples
I remember the faces but I forgot the beautiful people
I have friends here
Around their necks they hang bells
They call this place home
I call this prison hell
It is likely that I am in a mental hospital
But the drugs make it difficult to tell

Matt J Davies, age 26

I think you got the best of me
And kept some for yourself
You took three years of energy
Then left me on the shelf

I wouldnt say i blame you
But youve killed a part of me
I gave too much then lost you
And that Loves now history

The way our friendship ended
Broke my spirit and romance
I dropped my faith in people
And i fell into a trance

I spent a year of wishing
That youd not changed as id feared
I sat at home and wrote a poem
And grew myself a beard

It took a lot to leave you be
And not follow your trail
Or crash your phone and inbox
With texts and long emails

I sent a few of course
No more than 1 a week
But you chose to ignore
For reasons i still seek

I still seek sense and closure
I need to know your mind
How could you leave me sat here
Alone and high and dry

True love waits Thom told me
And for a while i really thought
That maybe i still loved you
Cause moving on was fraught

Everyday for months on end
Id think about your face
Obsessing over little things
And remembering your ways

At times i was so bitter
Angry and so mad
It seemed so unnecessary
That youd treated me so bad

I didnt hurt or harm you
During our 4 years
I only showed you Love
And believed true love was ours

Even when you dumped me
I forgave despite the hurt
And then you promised friendship
And i took you to your word

To be just friends was enough for me
I Loved you as a friend
I was prepared to be your friend
Best friends until the end

On the last day i saw you
When i met your little dog
Things didnt seem that awkward
And i left without a fog

But then you stopped replying
To texts and morning calls
Youd made the choice to dump me
Youd changed and turned so cold

So here we are a year has passed
And im still on my own
I dont get out that much
And i barely use the phone

Im paying the price for meeting you
And giving you too much Love
I simply quite adored you
And thought that was enough

Yet now i must move on
And ive tried to all this year
Its got a little easier
But there something still not here

If you find my sparkle
Can you post it back to me
I hope it reconnects and
Im able to achieve

Achieve the sort of happiness
Of when i first met you
I want to meet another girl
And make her happy too

But when i do i now know
With many thanks to you
Not to get too close to her
Or leave friends out the loop

I cant rely on one girl
To see me through my days
Its obvious that true love
Doesnt last or really wait

So as i end this scrambled page
Of self obsessed old tripe
I say to you my bunny
I wish you a beautiful life

Although you half destroyed me
Youve also made me strong
Despite the fact there was no need
And despite that it was wrong

But wrong or right im still here
And you are where you are
Good luck to you my pretty girl
Ill see you in the stars

Jaycee Rose, age 18

Panic.

I don't know who I am anymore.

I have lost all semblance of logic, of reason.

Of sanity.

Of myself.

I feel trapped, a bitter taste on my tongue.

My mind is never where it should be, I am slipping away.

It's so dark all around me and my lungs are filled with dirt and water and everything else that is burying me, so much that I can't call out for help, for a breath.

They see me drowning, but I can't explain just how much.

No one can reach the depths I have reached.

I'm like a recording, my throat scratching and clawing for the truth to come out but when I open my mouth I can only deny.

Deny that I am so scared of myself that I lie awake at night haunted.

That I am afraid to be out with myself because I have lost all semblance of control.

This had made me lose every part of me that I knew.

It's turned me into a monster, an alien to myself.

To the people around me.

I'm so scared of it, and yet it is the only thing that can let me feel in control.

First entries to the poetry contest!

2010-04-01T09:33:00.008-04:00

Happy National Poetry Month! Below are the first five entries to the contest. I'll continue posting the poems in batches throughout the month. To get a notification each time there is a new post, click on the "subscribe" button in the left column.

Remember, you have until April 26th to send in your entry. Read about the prizes and guidelines here.

Jennifer C., age 16

Anxiety

Anxiety walks with me wherever I go.
She wares me out, this I know.
She carries no confidence, while depression keeps her locked up alone.
Still smiles but inside shes dying, going crazy inside though its rarely shown.
Sleep seems hard to come by during the night.
Always wondering when she'll ever change, wanting to escape the tunnel to find a light.
She drowns herself in misery, chocking on her own thoughts.
Wearing her bracelet full of broken dreams and memories, tying it with double knots.
Shes walking toward her beautiful sea, shes wanting to go..bye-bye.
Standing on the rails which separate life from death, she spreads her arms and now she'll fly..goodbye.

Isabelle, age 17

C’est moi?

Who am I? A simple question that teenager’s ask themselves.

Not for me.

Doubts. Questions. Unfamiliarity. Confusion.

Anxiety spiraled these questions out of control for me.

I was just a freshman excited for high school, right?

SMACK

End freshman year and my mind collapses.

SMACK

15 fine and fresh. My whole life ahead of me.

“These are the best years of your life!”

“Enjoy them!”

“You only live once, when you’re older you have no time for fun.”

I thought I had myself figured out.

Lists of catastrophes went through my mind…

I’m suicidal? What?

I’m crazy? What?

I’m not sure if God exists? What?

I’m going to hell! What?

I hate myself.

I hate you.

Who are you looking back at me?

I don’t even know you.

You’ll end up in a mad house.

You are insane!

You are going to embarrass yourself.

-The voice never shut up. It would scream louder until I got in a panic.

Walking around with a smile on my face.

Inside there were tears.

My insides hurt and no one could know.

No one could understand me.

Sleeping was my friend.

The voice left at night time, and the night sky my blanket.

The stars minded their own business while I prayed for a way out.

They glittered all on their own, even for me.

That night when the stars told me to strengthen up and

Look beyond that voice, I changed.

The voice still screamed but this time I smiled at it.

This voice is not mine.

My voice is stronger.

I do things, not you voice!

You lied to me all this time voice.

I am beautiful.

I am a soul.

I am loved, even if I have you screaming through my mind.

You are ugly.

I am beautiful.

You are messed up.

I am a beautiful mess.

You are lying to yourself.

I am powerful.

David, age 17

I'm afraid

Suddenly, i open my eyes
The night is gone
I'm out of my dreams
Like always i'm afraid
I'm afraid to wake up
But i'm also afraid
To go back to sleep

I'm afraid to be alone
But i'm also afraid
To be with people

Every thing i do is with a fear

I walk with a fear
I eat with a fear

I talk with a fear
Being afraid is part of my routine

Every thing i do is with a fear

I'm afraid from every one
And every thing
I'm also afraid
From my own skin
But what am I afraid of?

that's the question
I've being asking.

Stephanie Faith Sizeland, age 18

DEPRESSION

I sit next to the water and think

I think about life

About my future

About my past

And everything in between.

I dig my toes into the sand

And wish i wasn't alone

Because facing life like this...is hard

Waking up each morning

Feeling worthless

Beaten down

And thinking that i'll never be anything more

Then what i already am...

Looking out into the distance

A few tears come

They aren't rapid

There aren't many

But just enough

To ease my sudden pain.

I hate feeling like this...

And being alone just makes it worse

I feel like awful

Like if i were to die

Right here

Right now

No one would even look up

No one would think twice about it

They would just go on with their day

And forget about me.

Part of me knows that isn't true

However,

There is another part

A part that lingers deep within

That questions it from time to time.

I know i shouldn't wonder

Shouldn't worry

Shouldn't cry

But i can't help it anymore.

My emotions completely take over

I can't control them.

Depression is a lot worse

Then some make it out to be...

You think about death

Think about suicide

The ultimate sin.

You never attempt...just wonder

But even wondering

Is a sin in itself.

I sit in the warm sand and ask myself

How do i get happy again?

Do i pretend everyday...

For the sake of my loved ones

Act like it doesn't effect me

Or do i break down

Who knows?

The only real thing i can do

Is take it a day at a time.

It's hard

It hurts

And it's hard to deal with

Every day.

But i'll move on

I'll push forward

And let go.

If i hold on to it all

Let the pain fester

Build up

And drag me down

It eventually will make its way out

By any means necessary.

Crying

Screaming

Cutting

Bleeding

It gets its revenge.

I can't let depression control me

It's something i have to overcome

Something i have to take hold of

And sometimes

I'll have no choice

But to let it have it's way.

Life never gets easier

It gets harder

It's a pain.

But if i take that negative energy

And store it away

It will just drag me down.

And down i will stay

Until i let it out

Until i let it go.

God as my witness

I swear

To take hold of my depression

To rip it to shreds

And to try and live my life...happy

Because i'm done.

I'm done faking smiles

I'm done faking laughter

I'm done faking happiness.

I want to be happy

Really happy

And i will be

I will overcome this

That's a promise i make to my family

A promise i make to my friends

A promise i make to my love

And a promise i make to myself.

HG, age 17

A Villanelle

Breathe in and think, "Everything will stay,"

Lying alone on a summer night,

Exhale and convince myself, "okay."

Struggling to keep emotions at bay,

Anxious that all I love's taking flight,

Breathe in and think, "Everything will stay."

Foreseeing the fees that will be payed,

Trying to keep my eye on the light,

Exhale and convince myself, "okay."

Squeeze my eyes shut, wish it all away;

Too often these battles are tense and trite,

Breathe in and think, "Everything will stay."

Morose when happiness goes astray,

White-hot flames we should seldom ignite.

Exhale and convince myself, "okay."

Sitting in bed, I plead as I pray

For sanctity, only for a day.

Breathe in and think "Everything will stay,"

Exhale and convince myself, "okay."

CONTEST ALERT! National Poetry Month starts in April.

2010-03-18T16:34:00.008-04:00

CONTEST ALERT! National Poetry Month starts in April. To celebrate, I am hosting a poetry contest! To enter, send in your original poems on the subject of mental illness or any other issue you are struggling with (relationships, addiction, grief, etc). I will post the submissions on this blog over the course of National Poetry Month and announce the SIX winners the first week in May.

FIRST PRIZE is a signed Advanced Readers Copy my new book, You Are Not Here (ARC = early copy of the book. You'll have it months before it goes on sale!) and a signed copy of I Don't Want to Be Crazy.

FIVE RUNNERS UP will win a signed copy of I Don't Want to Be Crazy.

For more info and guidelines, see below.

* * *

How do I enter?

1) Email ONE poem to samanthaschutz@hotmail.com BEFORE April 26.

2) Put “Poetry Month Contest” in the subject line.

3) Copy and paste the three questions below into the top of your email. Then fill in the answers.

Do you want to post anonymously? ______________

If not, how would you like your name to appear? (first name only, full name, initials, etc.) ______________

What is your age? ______________

What are the guidelines?

Keep poems to under 500 words.

Posts must be original. By submitting to this contest you are certifying that this work is yours.

Submit only about topics relating to mental illness or other issues you are struggling with (relationships, addiction, etc). Posts that are off topic will NOT be posted.

Take care and pride in your post. Please review your submission carefully before emailing me.

What else should I know?

You post will appear sometime during National Poetry Month (April 2010)

Your post is yours. By posting you are NOT giving me any rights to your words.

I will put links to this contest and the submissions Facebook, Twitter, Myspace, etc.

"I am more than a diagnosis."

2010-02-03T21:40:00.004-05:00

Anonymous.

Disorder Central

I used to think that the DSM IV provided a map to little old me, located in Dysfunctiontown, USA. From the time I was thirteen, I have traveled with a host of disorders. I started with Depression, took a left at Bulimia, blew right throw the light at Cutting and braked just before Suicide. I won't even get into the scenic detours of abuse, PTSD and dissociation disorder (not otherwise specified). I packed light, with a backpack full of pills, each of which offered a more horrific side effect than the last.

Along the way, I stayed with some kind people, people who told me I was more than a diagnosis, had potential beyond despair. I wanted to believe them, but deep down I knew I was worthless and broken. I counted off the years since my suicide attempt as time I did not deserve (or want) to have.

I am not sure at what point my trip changed, when I was able to drop my bag and rest awhile. But what matters is that now I can look back on my travels, as distant memories that led me home.

I know you won't believe me, but sometime you will get to rest too. Home is not in the afterlife or oblivion. It's right there, in your future.

"Locked inside my head, my body, all I do is think."

2010-01-29T16:57:00.009-05:00

Samantha Schutz, New York City. Age 31.

Hey all, I've been hoping to get some posts with artwork, so I thought I'd start off the trend myself!

Below is a poem I wrote while studying abroad in Paris my junior year of college (it's also in I Don't Want to Be Crazy). This self portrait above was taken in Paris at the same time. Hope to see some of your photos and artwork soon!

Be well,
Sam

* * *

I miss home
or at least being able to go home.
Looking at photos makes me want to cry.
I sit in my room,
staring at the phone,
not knowing who to call.
I've already forgotten the numbers.

I have become an introvert
because I don't have a large enough vocabulary
to be anything else.
Locked inside my head, my body,
all I do is think,
and it is making me well.

I am trying to find myself
in all of the chaos,
find something that I can call me
inside the screams and inside
the you shoulds and you have to bes.

I am grown in so many ways,

but in front of my parents

I am still a child.

I am having a hard time throwing off the skin

that I pick and peel.

I am the only one who can do it,

but I can't seem to let myself.

"I'm tired of living by hoping, tired of coping."

2010-01-07T14:13:00.003-05:00

JAP, age 30. Des Moines, IA.

Went to the Dr today. I keep having these chronic headaches and feel tired and grumpy all the time. I know it's probably related to my anxiety but I wanted to make sure it wasn't something more serious. They put me on Paxil. 12.5 mg, cr. This will be the second anxiety med they have had me try. I hope this one works because I am afraid I'm getting addicted to the Ativan. I am taking more of it than I should and the last thing I need is to become a friggin junky. I just want this world to end. I'm so stressed all the time about everything. Politics, religion, life, family, money, the car, food, the house, tuition, bills, all of it. I just want it to end so I don't have to deal with all of it. I want to go to Heaven where there is none of that crap. I don't want to want anymore. I don't want to be sad or angry anymore. I'm tired of being lied to. I don't want to worry anymore. I don't want to have anymore panic attacks, and I don't want to take anymore pills. I don’t' want to smoke another cig, or drink another drink. I don’t want to watch another meaningless stupid show on TV., or listen to another song that makes me feel any emotion. I don't want to take down this friggin Christmas tree or celebrate another Christmas. I don't want to go through another New Year that brings nothing new. I'm tired of living by hoping, tired of coping. I'm tired of feeling like a failure. I'm tired of going to a meaningless job that brings me no joy. I'm tired of being scared that I'm raising a boy that will turn out to be just like his alcoholic dope head father, and his panic stricken mother. I want the legacy to stop but I don't feel strong enough to stop it. I'm tired of waking up everyday to a man that doesn't care enough about himself to even think of caring about me or his son. The fear of waking up alone grips me tighter though. I'm scared of waking up to God's face and not being able to explain the time that He has given to me or the child He trusted me to raise. I'm failing and I feel like Alice In Wonderland spinning don a hole of despair and grief and anger and that filth is to sticky to wash off.

I also have a poem I would like to share…I wrote this after I found out my husband had an affair and when the panic, depression and anger were at their worst…

My Rage is Out of Control

My rage is out of control!

Why don't you ever ask

You never ask how I'm feeling

Do you not care?

Do you not feel my anger, my questions, my stress?

Do you already know and you just don't care

Enough to feel or hear, what I have to say?

Love me or hate me but save me your indifference.

Stand up for what you did wrong

or get the F*** OUT!!!

I just need to feel passion.

Give me some feeling.

Give me some emotion of care.
I get nothing.

I beg you in my mind & you have no kindness to share with me.

I read so much sh*t and I try and share it,

But you don't even give it a second thought.

You don't want to better yourself or us.

You are stuck in a rut and you're dragging me down with you.

I'm growing out of you. I grew out of you and you knew it,

That's why you didn't care when you stuck your love in someone else

And accepted the devil into yourself.

You invited it into us and now it won't leave.

"I can get through the day but at night it seems everything catches up to me. "

2009-12-17T14:23:00.006-05:00

JAP, age 30. Des Moines, IA.

My Belly Aches Blue - Lorazapam Flu (Lyrics from Blue October)

I wonder if I will ever be off the medication. I wonder if I even want to be. Do I want to get better? Do I like having this as an excuse to not socialize.

I am the definition of anti-social, yet I can't stand the thought of being alone. I hate to go to work, but I feel better when I'm there because I can focus on something else besides this "weirdness" I constantly feel inside me. Will I ever feel normal again?

It began when I was 17. I was driving home and all of sudden everything became like a video game. Nothing seemed real and the corners of my eyes started to turn black. The car was closing in on me. I pulled over, got out of the car and called my mom. Mom, Mom, something is wrong!! I can't breath, my vision is weird, I feel weird! Calm down, maybe you just haven't eaten good enough today, you do have a protein deficiency. Ok, ok, calm down. I'm right down the street from home. I can get there. I can get there. It happened a few more times. Once while driving on vacation with my boyfriend and we had to switch drivers while we were still driving so we didn't loose who we were following. I couldn't drive anymore, I was loosing it. I rolled down my window and spent the next hour with my face in the wind and my eyes closed.

It didn't happen again until a year ago. I had been drinking the night before and was hung over. I thought that was all it was. I took some Advil and drank some Alka Seltzer. My heart started racing and my eyes starting feeling funny again. It felt again like nothing was real and I couldn't focus. My chest hurt, I couldn't breath, my hands were shaking and sweating and tingly and numb. I thought I was going to die! It took my husband 2 hours to calm me down while I went from laying in bed to laying on the floor. I finally fell asleep but in a state of terror. I woke up feeling scared but no longer terrified. I was drained.

Then next one happened at work. Same symptoms. I work in a call center and was on the phone with a client. I told her I would have to put her on hold and eventually had to have a co worker take over the call because I couldn't come back to my desk. I knew when it affected my work that I had to do something.

I went to the Dr and they tried to convince me I had a heart problem. I knew better. I'd felt this way before, but I did all their tests which came back fine. I said, I told you so, NOW HELP ME! 1 mg Ativan twice a day, 20 mg of Celexa once a day. Celexa makes me feel sick, almost makes the anxiety worse. I quit taking it but I still take the Ativan. It helps me sleep.

I can get through the day but at night it seems everything catches up to me. I try to lay down and relax in bed and sleep but my brain won't shut off and I start to feel closed in. I pop my Ativan and I start to feel better as I drift to sleep. No one understands what I am going through. My husband thinks I'm crazy. I blame him because if he wouldn't have cheated on me 7 months after we got married the attacks wouldn't have been triggered again. I hate him, I'm angry with him. I hate her, I'm angry with her. I know what's caused them, but what do I do about it now. I go to a therapist. He is awesome. He teaches me about Red and Blue. If you keep thinking Red, all you will see is Red, recognize Red for what it is and think Blue. I practice and practice everyday. I still deal with the anger even though I've made the decision to stay married and honor my vows. I have this garbage to work through.

I start to journal and it's like I am bulimic. I purge everything I have onto my paper. I go through pen after pen, book after book. Pouring out words of hatred and fear. I listen to Blue October 24/7. I carry their words with me like I carry my Bible. I start to feel better everyday but then a memory will come and send me spiraling back down. Now I'm diagnosed with severe panic disorder and depression. They add Wellbutrin, 150 mg. God, will this ever end??? Should I just walk away from my marriage? Will that take the feelings away? No, I can't do that, I love him. God doesn't approve of divorce. He's not cheating, he's being faithful, he's sorry, he's working on it. Forgive and move on.

I read Samantha's book, I don't want to be crazy, and I can't remember when I related to someone more. When she said, it's like I'm in one room and my panic is on the other side of the door, I cry. That's how I feel. My panic is at arms length. I am dependent on these pills so I don't feel the fear. I take everyday one day at a time and try to not miss to much work. I try to function as a mom, but I feel like I'm robbing my son of a real life because mommy can't function. I try to ignore it and sometimes it works. I read any book I can get my hands on and I try all the methods and breathing exercises and writing exercises and all of it seems to be only temporary.

Prayer. I pray constantly. I always have but I'm thinking that the Lord is using this to bring me closer to Him, more dependent on Him. If that is the case I think I can handle the fear. I pray to just know His will.

“Me, meet WhoIWas – A lot has changed, just to let You know.”

2009-12-16T19:25:00.002-05:00

Anonymous, age 17.

I am known: like a child, so eager to receive, I take my place. Like a timeline, I make a mark, so afraid to run out of space. This is where I have brought myself, like a choice I just couldn’t make. Like a sudden break, I fall. Like a final failure, I risk it all. This is who I have become, shattering into a million tiny pieces. Like a voice, just a voice, with no words of reason; like charades, and the only one left guessing is me. This is what it’s like to anticipate the fall. Like a wound that refuses to heal or a single moment that changes it all; I am afraid. I am no child, begging to panic. I am not a timeline, counting each second. I am not broken beyond repair or a carless mistake. I want to be heard, to be understood, even by me. I am not left alone to infect myself, to die a lost cause. I assure myself of all these things, reminding myself when I forget. I make sense of it all, trying to tighten my grip, but there is something that brings me closer to the edge, haunting me with fear until all else fades. This is too close for comfort, too real to fake; too much to handle, too blinding to wake. I will not live my life this way. I was made for more than this. So I take myself away, as I try to heal and breakthrough, I encounter the life I’m brought to. Full of refusing to relive my past – this is me, this is who I can be, free of past struggles, no longer controlled by anxiety. This is how far I have come: from child to years down the road, mending together my broken whole, leaving behind the mask; I have a voice that speaks volumes and a life worth living. I am not a victim. I want to break free of how you know me. Are you listening, please? Know nothing about me. Forget about how long it took before I finally could be, just be, without panic or fear. Forget about the attacks that waged, surrounding me. Forget about how I was on my worst day, or on my best. I know it seems necessary to understand, to see it through my eyes, to try to break the fall, but let yourself refocus. All you need to know is I have left behind everything, all of me, except the parts that matter most. I have never forgotten the way it felt, or walked away from the story I have to tell. I know I can reach out, touch the dark places where no one else can reach. I know there is life outside the cage, and a reason to keep breathing. I know, because I’ve been there. Know you are stronger than you think you are. Know, if nothing else, that in ever battle, victory is on its way.

"I can actually breathe now."

2009-12-06T22:45:00.002-05:00

Claire Ross, age 15. New York.

Looking back, I can see I've had a problem for a while. Ever since I was little. The insomnia. The panic attacks. The compulsions. The repetition. It's an endless cycle. It was familiar for the longest time, but I never had a name for it until I was diagnosed a little while ago with both Panic Disorder (with Agoraphobia) and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. There's something comforting about a label for it. It fits me into my tiny little four sided box. I don't have a choice. I never did. It's been a part of me for so long, for a while I even thought it was normal. Not now. I used stay awake at night worrying that I'm not normal. That my panic disorder defines me. After being on 50 mg of Zoloft for a few months and going to therapy, I've made significant progress, and I've learned that I'm not alone. It's a struggle, but the attacks aren't as frequent. I can actually breathe now. I can sleep. I can focus and function, remotely happily. Finally.

"I have this innate attraction to self-destruction."

2009-12-06T13:30:00.003-05:00

E., age 21. Illinos.

I want to say I thought about it,
but I didn’t.
I want to say I had the knife at my
wrist, and I almost didn’t do it.
But that’s not what happened.
What happened is I got sick of it
sick of being scared all the time.
I wanted the panic to leave my chest.
So I let the blade sink in,
I dragged it across and watched,
numb, as the skin turned white and
then red.

Releasing the Soul
To pass the time, I write.
Try to purge everything negative out of me;
make the paper the one to suffer all
the pain, the sadness, the cruelty
of this world.
I write so that maybe I can stop
the feelings inside of me from
building up and bursting out
like they have done so many times before.
I write because the one goal I’ve found to strive for
in these most unwilling days,
is that eventually I will be the one
in control.
There is a force inside of me
itching to destroy.
I have this innate attraction to self-destruction.
But maybe writing it down
is like letting it go,
and words will be the one thing that
saves me.

"I have been fighting this, whatever this is, for the past four years."

2009-12-06T13:25:00.004-05:00

DEAD, age 15. Virgina.

And recently I have gained a friend who has been able to talk me through situations that I would other wise not be able to get through. We were chatting over email one Sunday and the topic of my Tokio Hotel Fan Fiction novel came up. The story here starts when my friend asks me, regarding another fan fiction I am writing and it's main character, “Was Ananya from The Pain Of Love based off you?”

My answer, “Yes, Ananya was based off of me. Her character in the most simplest form was based off of me. Of course i changed her name and her love for her family that died, was something i wish i had: the love for my family. Not the dying part of her family though.

“Tokio Hotel is portrayed in TPOL in the same manner of importance in Ananya's life that Green Day has played in mine. I was literally, a day away from suicide. i take that back HOURS away from suicide. We were in Everett Washington. we were headed for Seattle and i knew we were going to take a cruise around the Seattle harbor. i had planned and set my heart might mind and soul on jumping off the front end of the ship while it was moving.

“i got in the car and i asked my sister for a CD to listen to in my Walkman. she handed me this disk and said, 'skip track two' i put it in and heard "Don't Wanna Be An American Idiot." sung by Billie Joe Armstrong. i listened to the entire American Idiot CD over twice before we got to Seattle.

“And i am here today. Bill saving Ananya from suicide in TPOL is like Green Day saving me from my own death Then there are the fictional points of Ananya that i added to make her seem less like me and more like a made up figure.”

Her reply was “You know, something told me that it was you. I'm not really sure how or why. Maybe Ananya's character just had more depth and so much more emotion poured into her than Summer, even though the writing style is the same and everything. It must've been a little nerve wracking to do that... basically expose yourself like that even though people don't know that it is you.”

“Well yes and no because Ananya is shrouded by Tokio Hotel instead of Green Day, and Bill instead of Billie, i think it is easier to write for her and i mean as her story progresses, she becomes a lot less like me and more like, well Ananya.

“She becomes more of her own person her on entity her own character and personality forms and it becomes less prominent that she is based off of me. but Ananya does take after me in one more major thing that i can think of off the top of my head She didn't attempt suicide, her Second personality did see, i am Bipolar and times i think that i have bi personality that is really where Ananya splits from being a hidden me to being her own person”

This lead to the discussion of multiple personality disorder. By the end of the chat, my friend has put my on terms where I know who these people in my head are. Billie and June. Billie is this punk ass girl who doesn't take shit from the world. June is this religious girl who is loosing the fight against Billie. And then there is me, the girl the host body, trying to keep from going insane.

I would just like to say, I would not have been able to sit here and write this if it wasn't for her.

Friends are a nice thing...

"Help me, Mommy."

2009-11-26T12:01:00.006-05:00

Donna, age 49. Connecticut.

My first born child, high school junior,
Handsome, hockey captain
Popular, well-liked
Calls me from the bathroom of his high school,
"Mom, something's wrong...I can't go into class..."

He sits there for hours then escapes to the outdoor bleachers,
Security finds him and escorts him back to his nightmare
"Something is wrong...I can't be here anymore...I need to go home..."
"I need to get out"

Chest pain, sweating, suffocation, heart racing, losing control in front of everyone"

"I can't risk it"
"I feel it in every classroom"
"I can't risk it"
"Help me, Mommy"

My first born child, high school junior,
Handsome, hockey captain
Suffering, in pain,
What do I do?
Forget about scholarships, even college
Just get him to graduate, will he graduate?
Does anybody remember him anymore?

Prozac, clonopin, xanax
Hospital admissions and hospital schools
The "short bus" in our driveway
Beeping so our neighbors could witness the humiliation and
The tears, fighting, expectations denied.

Am I to blame?
What have I done? To my first born son
Who had so much potential
High school senior, now special ed
Lucky if he graduates with a high school degree.
Still handsome, was a hockey captain
Not as popular but well-liked by the few he sees...

I write the college essays...
anything to get him in...
To lead a normal life...
What did I do???
I thought I put the right amount of pressure on him...
but, maybe, it was too much?

I blame myself....for the
Demise of my first born child...
We attended high school graduation but
were outsiders...didn't belong; haven't been there in a while.
Still handsome, disappointing hockey season,
Not popular anymore, few friends,
Prisoner of anxiety.
I love you, Matt.

"I will lose my grip."

2009-11-25T09:42:00.005-05:00

AnneMarie R., age 16. New Jersey.

On Call Nights
Make me lose my mind.
Sleep deprived,
And vomit timed.
Martyr mornings,
For patient primes.
Raw empty stomach,
Churns alcohol grinds.
Nauseous headaches,
Pulse reality’s burn,
As paranoia looms,
Exploiting nervous words.
I will lose my grip,
I have made myself sick.
And as the clinical light sings;
I die.

But hey, at least I went down with you.

"Crying every night isn't working for me anymore."

2009-11-24T09:22:00.002-05:00

Angela F, age 17. Wichita, KS.

"Title: October 28, 2008

Text:

Distance; just another word to explain all the reasons I can't do this anymore. Another way to name our ever so recent diverse time is him. Not a name, just him. It's not going to change nor will it get better.

It's time for me.

I can't.

Just me; I am who I want to be.

...I think.

But I know I can't be who you want me to be. I won't complain.

And I don't expect you to either.
Explaining this wont be easy. But if I don't do it now, no one else can or will.
Don't make me choose. Because I can't tell you. Nor can I tell him.
I won't make this anymore complicated than it already is because this crying every night isn't working for me anymore.
My eyes have gone dry. And my emotions can't be what they used to.
I did this to myself.
Regrets???
I have only one:
Not finding this out sooner."

This and more of my writing is on my webpage:

www.wix.com/southeast/angela

"In my mind life is an unlivable loudness."

2009-11-24T09:16:00.005-05:00

Katy, age 19. Jacksonville, FL.

"There is no cure. That’s the truth; no doctor or family member will pronounce. When we admit there is no light at the end of the tunnel, we have given ourselves no closure. What’s living if were not hoping? Come on really, what’s the use of this fucking terrible life, if we can’t dream of living a fucking wonderful life? Why? God damn’t why, must we even breathe?

Ok, when this ultimate high breaks, we let our brains settle. We go by, living a day by day basis, always breathing. But, were dead, barely baring the placid sky. And, we settle down in our sheets, still there is no cure. Valium, prozac, xanax, nothing removes what the doctor recommends. Why do these feelings surround us? When having everything seems like nothing. When death feels so close we just may burst. It’s sensual, we feel a temptation and we feel special. But, yet we always, always want it out.

What is it that we want out?
And more importantly, why do we seek such vengeance against what
defines us?

“In my mind life is an unlivable loudness. People saunter with their heads up high; no one bothers to look into my troubled soul. Echoes, murmurs, rumors, sounds shake, leading my heart to break. I wear an invisible soul that people walk right over. And yet, I sometimes wonder why I am so helpless. Everyone has insecurities, but it is only mine, which draw all over. They leave me with a bottle of pills, in which I have no desire to swallow, due to my lack of triumph. It is not that I want to be non-existent; I am not yet hopeless. Although absolutely numb, I still feel and just because my bones break doesn’t mean I won’t heal. Dealing is a way of life, feeling is only negative in mine.”

That was just one of the myriad pre-suicidal poems written in my journal full of melancholy, flustered thoughts and poetry. I was seventeen with a life full of the unexpected. Every expectation, every proposal for the perfect future had collapsed. Seventeen years of uttered rebellion and reiterated suicidal thoughts can compels one’s brain to pivot. Not even all the drugs, therapy or shrinks could fulfill the emptiness of my enter-being. I needed people to understand that I did not have answers, only pain that would not elapse. They needed to recognize what I was going thru without thinking I was some deranged freak. Truthfully, I needed to want to get better. I had to want to see the sunrise before my eyes, a fresh patch of yellow roses and the ocean sway. I needed to enjoy everyday because life is not everlasting. I needed to stop sorrowing over every sullen, isolated thought. Most significantly, I needed not to need, but to want to live."

"Never have I been so scared of myself."

2009-11-03T11:46:00.002-05:00

Ashley L., age 16. Chicago.

"Everything seemed normal in my life up to now. I'm passed the issue of having ADD and the depression doesn't bother me that much anymore. Little did I know that things were gonna turn and change in a way I never expected...

On Halloween night, something weird started to happen. My heart started to race, I started breathing harder. The next thing I knew I snapped off at my family and then went to my room. I was going crazy. I broke and rocked myself back and forth. It was the most extreme anxiety attack I've ever had. It didn't even feel like me, it felt as if somebody was taking over me.

Two hours later, my body was still shaking but I was calm. As I lay there on my bed, caressing my head, my best friend to call and check up on me. Never had she been so worried about me and risked getting fired. I was fine for the rest of the night. It happened at church the next day. Never have I been so scared of myself."

"Sometimes it feels like there are two people inside of me."

2009-11-03T10:56:00.004-05:00

Melissa W, age 16. Oregon.

"My story begins like anyone else's. I was born one evening in early March, a healthy baby girl. Our stories become a little different when I say that I was the first child in my family of four. Our lives become even more unique when I tell you that I have ADHD and an anxiety disorder.
Did I also mention that sometimes it feels like there are two people inside of me?
Meet Mel. She is the me without my ADHD medication.
Then, meet Melissa. She's me on my ADHD medication.
Sometimes, it frightens me that 50 MG of Vyvanse determines if I'll be Mel or Melissa for the day.

Ever since I can remember, I've been in a constant war with my ADHD medication. There was the one that made me 20-30 pounds underweight. There was the one that created suicide thoughts like demons, constantly tugging me towards on-coming traffic or to a razor blade. I haven't found one that's perfect, and I doubt that there's one out there that is. Even now, lack of appetite and a twinge of depression probe me with each pill.

For my whole life I've always known that I'm not a 'normal' person. And for my whole life I've tried to deny that. I spent my middle school years rejecting the entire idea of ADHD, all the while my fear of asking for help growing. My rejection continued into 9th grade, and my fear became a paranoia when I entered Algebra 1. When my boyfriend of three years broke up with me, I found myself alone and confused in a new school, all the while my fear of asking for help preventing me from moving forward. I managed to graduate 9th grade without asking for help directly, but I knew that I couldn't pull this off as a Sophomore. It was my first day of Geometry that following September that I had my first panic attack.

I can't breathe, I can't breathe!
I'm shaking, why am I shaking?!
This classroom is so loud, yet why is it so quiet?!
I feel like I'm going to throw up...
I'm so scared, I'm so scared...
Can't anyone else see this?! Can't anyone else see what's happening?! They have too!!
Am I having a mental breakdown?
What's going on with me?!
At 1:00 I was staring blankly at a Geometry work sheet. By 1:05, I had locked myself in a bathroom stall, teaching myself how to breathe, all the while sobbing. I remember I blamed my ex-boyfriend for this, I thought that if he was still with me, I wouldn't have fallen apart like that. It was all his fault, not mine.

After that, my attacks stayed more of when I needed to talk to the teacher alone. It got to the point where I needed 20 minutes prep time before I could even walk up to the classroom, let alone speak to the teacher. Even if I was successful in speaking, something inside of me felt that trying was futile. Thus, I failed to progress.

In the end, my math teacher began to break down my wall I built around myself. She let me cry in the empty classrooms, all the while sitting next to me. We would carefully go through my work, and I soon began to understand the language being spoken.

Today, it only takes me 10 minutes to pace outside the classroom. By then, I'll be able to talk to my teacher.
The attacks are still there. Sitting in my room at night, I'll stare at my math homework.
The pressure builds.
But I've experienced enough to learn to not let them consume me.
The ADHD continues, and it always will. I've accepted that I can do nothing to make that disappear from my life. It will always be apart of me, but I know now that it doesn't define me.

I've learned to accept it. Mel and Melissa; I've learned to balance them out into me. ADHD isn't as bad as some other things. But, at the same time, people who don't have to live with it's effects don't take it seriously enough.
When I'm compared to another 'normal' person, you won't see much of a difference. But, that is where our similarities end."

"I would lie awake most of the night, terrified by what was happening to me."

2009-10-30T18:24:00.003-04:00

TJ, age 60. Iowa.

"When I went away to college in 1967, I was going to save the world. I was not even able to save myself.

I had always been a fearful and anxious child. Extremely shy, I often wished to become invisible. The pinnacle of agony and self-consciousness came when I was called on in class, or was required to make a speech. I was having anxiety attacks, but only in certain situations, and never recognized them for what they were.

Away from home and living in a college dorm, I felt lost and alone. The campus was huge, classes were overcrowded, and I was exhausted and overwhelmed. I grew more anxious and homesick every day.

While in a crowded classroom, I had my first full-blown panic attack. With my heart pounding and feeling nauseated, I got up, left, and returned to the dorm. This was repeated over and over, with each episode increasing in intensity. Finally I was no longer able to go down to the dining hall to eat. I would lie awake most of the night, terrified by what was happening to me. Soon I left school, and spent the next three years or so in and out of hospitals, seeing therapists, and otherwise housebound.

As time passed I lost all hope of finding relief and sank deeper into depression. I started cutting myself just to feel alive and in control of something. No one understood. I had several therapists, none of whom ever really explained what was happening to me. One day, I came across an article that mentioned a book by Claire Weeks -- Hope and Help for your Nerves. It was a turning point for me. Not only was I not crazy, I had an identifiable disorder that many other people had, too. This finally gave me hope that I could recover from this and be myself again.

I have had periods of stability, and relapses. But I know now that the panic will pass. Depression, anxiety's evil sister, has been harder to overcome. It is still too easy to slip into darkness after a bad experience or hurtful exchange. With therapy and medication, I am working on that.

But you can find yourself again -- don't stop trying."

"There are people out there who are just like you and me."

2009-10-30T11:31:00.006-04:00

Meaghan, age 18. Brooklyn, NY.

"Have you ever tried to describe what a panic attack feels like to someone who’s never had one before? It’s a bunch of conflicting physical and emotional reactions that only other people with them could understand. How could someone be perfectly fine on the subway or in an airplane, but be paralyzed in fear in a shopping mall? I could never quite answer those questions myself. My attacks are very few and far between, but when they hit, they’re crippling. The thought of them always lingers in the back of my mind. I wonder, “Is today going to be the day?” The feelings are so spur of the moment; you can’t help but think of it on occasion. I’ve been told to ignore the fear and anxiety, but it’s impossible to do when all that’s on your mind is the idea of escaping the situation you’re in.

No one has ever been able to fully comprehend what it’s like to go through an attack. That is, until I read I Don’t Want to be Crazy. Someone was going through the same thing I was. A person actually understood what I was going through. I think that’s all I’ve wanted. When I told my doctor about it, she said, “Don’t worry. You can get help for this.” Those were the greatest eight words I could hear at the time. I remember I was so happy and relieved at the time, I ended up crying in the doctor’s office.

Have I gotten a list of therapists? Yes. Have I made an appointment with them? No. I don’t think my parents wanted to fully accept the fact that their daughter could be placed on Klonopin or Paxil to control herself when she’s out in public. But don’t get me wrong, I don’t resent them. Maybe I wasn’t ready to accept the fact that panic disorder could happen to me too. They’ve comforted me; they just have a hard time realizing how panic attacks can truly hurt when they do occur.

That’s why I’m truly excited that this blog has been created, so others can see that there are people out there who are just like you and me.

Stay strong everyone. Xoxo"

"There were times when I would just stare at the mirror and could not believe I was looking at myself."

2009-10-30T11:22:00.007-04:00

Emily, age 18. Georgia.

"I blame my doctor for ruining my life. Rationally, I know it's not his fault, but I need someone to blame for my anxiety. I was sixteen. I was a junior in high school and I wanted to die. Everyday I would force myself to go to school, only to sit in the bathroom for long periods of time, waiting for my lungs to breathe, my heart to stop pounding and my body to stop sweating. I would come home only to collapse and sleep for hours. When my mother took me to the doctor, I didn't want to tell him what was happening to me. To me, my anxiety was a sign of weakness, a flaw in my otherwise perfect world. He told me I was depressed, prescribed me some Prozac, and moved on to the next patient. He didn't care that inside I was screaming just as loud as the baby in the next room. No one cared. I was all alone, fighting a war against nothing, and losing.

When my senior year began, I had already been on several different medications including Xanax. For most seniors at my high school, this was the best year of their lives. For me, it was torture. I couldn't force myself to get up and go to school anymore, I was so exhausted all the time. There were times when I would go for the last thirty minutes of the day just so I wouldn't fall too far behind. I begged to be homebound, a program that allows those who are sick or unable to go to school to work from home, but my doctor would not sign the papers. I spent the next few months trying to convince him that I would be better if I could just stay at home. Nothing changed his mind. So I would go to school and sob in the bathroom, call my mom at work and tell her how much I wanted to die. I missed sixty four days of my senior year before he told my mom to take me to the hospital pysch ward.

They admitted me over a weekend in March. I still cannot talk about how much I hated being there, withdrawing from my favorite addiction, my Xanax, feeling actually crazy for the first time. I am so mad that no one would help me, just stick me in a hospital and ask me the stupidest questions in front of pretentious college doctors. After my hospital stay, nothing changed except my doctor finally allowed me to be homebound. I still felt myself being sucked away into nothing. I graduated. I was done. I still had depression and I still hated myself. There were times when I would just stare at the mirror and could not believe I was looking at myself. This wasn't me. I was not the girl who was looking back at me. She was killing me, slowly but surely. I didn't trust myself.

It's been six months since then and I can honestly say I feel the best I've felt in years. I'm finally happy and I don't know why. I'm not in college and I still live at home. My days consist of planning for the future. But I feel good. I introduced myself to my therapist yesterday, even though I've been seeing her since March. The reason? She had never met the real me. This is who I am. Not the girl who let her anxiety and depression control her. So, hello, I'm Emily. I still struggle with my anxiety and depression, but now I have something I didn't have before. Hope."