Falling Stars

Those stars in the sky,
are just rain drops.
Hanging there
resisting the constant pull
5 of gravity.

waiting
waiting to fall
to relinquish
control
10 and let gravity win.

Then they fall
and grace our cheeks,
and our houses,
and our town.
15 they make us look
not only look
but they make us
see.

see the other stars,
20 falling from the sky.
aswell
as what’s
beyond them
and what’s
25 inbetween.

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Lullabies

The ocean she whispers to me
Shhh she says
so soft and clear
“Whenever you may feel alone
5 You shall always know I’m here”
Shhh She says
“Hear me whisper
soft and clear,
secrets of the sea
10 Into your ear.”

I can hear her,
day by day,
the sound of her lullaby
makes me sway.
15 As if I was a ship
on my way,
getting further from reality
each and every day

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Today I went to the nurse because I was getting a migraine, nothing unbearable, I just needed some advil. The nurse asked if I would like to lie down for a bit. Naturally my hatred of history made me accept her offer. Lying there I began to cry, not a lot, but enough. I didn’t even know I needed to. Maybe it was my history paper due Friday, maybe it was my procrastination catching up to me, maybe it was my resentment of the person I’d become. Someone so unmotivated and unhappy that she didn’t care anymore. A selfish shitty human being that, at 15, was beginning to give up on her future. But I don’t know what to do; because I can’t just watch a fucking Disney movie and become someone else. Especially when I don’t even have the energy to try. So yeah I’m a fucking mess. okay. bye

2/11/15

Sometimes it feels like no matter what I do, I can’t do anything right. I always end up displeasing other people or myself. Even if I don’t do anything at all, shit tends to fall apart.

Bad words

It’s like it’s a dirty word. They never say it. They don’t even say it when we’re alone. They say ‘appointment’. Emma you have an ‘appointment’. Get ready you don’t want to be late for your ‘appointment’. It’s kind-of rubbed off on me, I’ve only said therapy once since I’ve started going. Why is it such a bad word. It’s better than depression, we haven’t even come up with a word for that. I think my parents don’t want it to be real. They want me to be happy, and perfect, and normal. I try to be. I wish that I could be that for them. I try to make it seem like there’s nothing wrong, I hold it in and time when I can collapse. In our house it’s like our whole life is a well timed, well choreographed, show. I pretend I’m not depressed, and they pretend they can’t tell.