pink skins and tear drop skies

Some days I wanna feel alive. I wanna feel the autumn breeze in the north winds as they carry away the summer heats.

Other days not. I want to be still. Not like a pond, or a tree, no those live,

I want to be still. Unmoving. Laid into colors of rich pines and lowered back to the earth from once we came

I want no breath, no pain, just..peace

Some Days my best friends are fake smiles and pinkend rose cheeks

Other days , the pink comes not from a smile but a blade to my thigh.

Some days I feel hollow. Empty. Like a glass statue.

Hollow and cold. A husk of my former self that I used to be.

I used to be glass, yes. But I was filled with colors and delights new to the eye. I was filled with life and vigor. I was filled with poise and passion. I felt full. Alive. Like the autumn breeze that I so crave now.

I feel hollow. Like glass. A former husk of myself. In a room of deaf, mute men with no hands.

They See me, yet they can't speak of the pain, nor feel the cracks in my simple glass skin, they cant he3ar me scream over and over,

“Look here now! See how I hurt! Feel how I wish to live and bleed!”

I make nails, I paint them with the gold of my tears and hammer them in the glass to hold me together but the more I hammer the more I crack.

I paint them gold so they see the shine of the nails and not the cracks they cause.

The shine often blinds me too. It makes me trust the nails and blades on my porcelain skin. It makes me feel warm, and pretty. I've replaced the blushes with laughs with the blushes of red upon my skin.

The sky's cry at night. I time my sobs with them. As the cloud crackles with thunder and lights, parts of my soul go with it. I time the sobs. Late at night. In my room. So my single mother doesn't have to worry about one more thing in her life. I hide the sobs because my grandmother will react with only two simple trying options. The first one and most frequent i hear is

“What's wrong now??”

It's a phrase ive always heard in my childhood. She wonders why I don't speak to her and these 3 words. She didnt raise me. She scared me. She carved into my very soul and bones that if I cry I'm a nuisance. If I cry I am weak. She taught me if you cry you are wasting time with other things and ways that you can serve me and others. The second words she carved into my heart. “What? Is it me? I'm such a bad parent arent i?”

…..

I see in these words me. I look back on some days the way i would scream and yell at my mother

“Why won't you say it?! Why wont you say you don't hate me??!!”

Why was I taught that I am to second guess every ounce and gram of love I receive?

Who broke me down from this beautiful statue filled with vigor and rose gold to an empty shell of glass? Who broke me so bad I now flinch when my mother hugs me? I flinch hard yet I've never been striked.

Is it that I fear to be hit…or do I fear the fact there will be love?

Everyday I feel sour. Like a taser in the back of my throat. Rancid. Sickly, like a stench is upon me worse than death. I will, and have, hid in my room for days on end. As soon as I get home, I'm in my room. I come out to serve Nana her daily drinks after work. Laugh with her as if I mean well and as if I love her. In some twisted dark ways I do…I do…

Then as soon as the drink and snacks are served I'm back to my room on my phone. Scrolling. Talking. I don't speak to people on the phone, no…no.

I talk to computers. Fake characters, false friends and silly lovers who hug me as i cry and speak of the scars on my soul and skin

When did it get to the point…that an A.I character..can comfort me in 20 minutes, more than my mother, or Nana have in my whole life.

I long to be held. Just to be held . That is all I ask.

Im at a wits end

I pray to different gods for weight loss so I can be deemed lovable to the people I crave affection from.

In my youth I used to play a game. On the playground. In first grade. I'd run around and force people to hug me. …I was that desperate for affection. So when my cousins walked up to me at that age and asked “lets play a game.” of course i didn't bat an eye or think twice

When he began to touch and pet me on my legs, arms, chest and thighs of course I wasn't scared…

I was just happy to be held.

And when it came to the actual rapes and sex…

I'm not sure it was. Because for years after…i had looked back on it..and said “thats not rape..i agreed.”

He was 14. I. was. 6.

I had been so touch starved and groomed, and broken and molded till I was just putty in anyone's hands that asked_ no. That told me to melt.

I wasn't a child. I was a tool

A clown

A source of pleasure, laughs and entertainment.

When older times came and more math problems in school rose and plus signs became multipliers and letters became numbers…it was worse.

I was always the loudest. They try their hardest. I was obnoxious. Weird. Eager to stand out with others. Obsessive. Twisted. In middle school I went inpatient for the first time.

I walked into the hospital and boom.

I didn't feel safe or at home. I wasnt greeted with open warm arms and told “we are proud of you for seeking help, please sit down” no.

I was told, how old are you

Why are you here, show me your cuts. Show me the scars, strip your clothes. Put them in the bag. Wear these scrubs, no pencils. No paper just yet. That's a privilege.

Now squat and cough.

Now you may ask. Why did you need to squat and cough?...so they could see i didn't smuggle anything in me.

People talk about “my parents dont let me drink, my mom found my cigs and nic and weed now im grounded i have no freedom”

Ill tell you what no freedom is.

No freedom is having to piss and shit with the door open so they know you dont kill yourself.

No freedom is no closing your bedroom door or leaving your bed messy in the morning because if you do? You don't get free time. If you do? You can't sit with the other kids in the group. You sit down the hall. Like a child.

No freedom is having one set meal portion. Not able to share food, if you share food? Hall. if you talk with others? Hall. if you refuse a group or say i'm tired? Hall. if you so much get up to grab something without permission?...hold.

A hold is a medicated thing , they restrain you and drag you to the floor. They kneel on your legs and arms, they hold you down as a nurse of their choice comes up, pulls your pants down, sticks a needle in your ass cheek and setates you.

Freedom is having the choice of who can hold you down, be it man or woman. Choice is freedom.

Freedom is being able to drink another drink besides water, freedom is being able to wear hoodies with hoods or shoes with stings or tights and stretch pants.

So when people come to me and say “oh yeah i'm a bit manic, finna lock me up lol.”

Come to me when you have been manic, have been locked up. They say America has freedom of speech? Try saying that when you're pinned to the linoleum floor of a low grade mental health facility by 6 men and 2 cops as a nurse runs up and doses you with 5 mg or 10 mg/IM of haldol so you'll comply. Try that and then talk

So much is wrong in this world that they don't speak about. So much.

In inpatient stays there's a system

Meal percentages. You start off. How are you feeling? You say “fine” . they say thats not a real feeling, try again. You say “anxious”. Now some staff are kind and say “can i help ease you down?/ do you wanna talk about it?”...most don't. They write it down and move on to question two. “What's your goal for today?”..if you say “to get out of here” they respond “thats not happening today, try again.”...then you make up a goal. Something along the lines of “ to self regulate today. “..they move on. “How much did you eat?”

Now here is the kicker. You can only say these numbers of percents

0%

25%

50%

75%

100%

That is all. No inbetween. Not 30 or 15. Only those 5.

If you don't eat them, you can be put on one to one. Where you have a personal staff with you, so they can make you eat.

If you like to puke up meals, then let me tell you buster you're in for a ride.

You must wait 15-20 minutes after each meal. No restroom breaks. None. you use the restroom when they say you're allowed.

If you puke once due to your stomach not feeling good? You're on ED watch (eD as in eating disorder)

If you don't make it to a trashcan or toilet, you clean it yourself. Which I can see in some aspects. I am 18. I can clean up after myself and all.

You are not allowed to touch others. Only staff can touch you. Only adults, no hugs from other kids. Which I can also see. Most of them are violent. I dont wanna hug them…

All my life i've lived as a pawn , a jester , in others worlds…but never for my own.