Take Me

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Wash the sand from my feet

Take your hands and grab my feet

Pull me in

Pull me deep

Take my fear

Replace it with tranquility

I will let you steer

See my vulnerability

Let me lay on your blanket

The sun warming my skin

Creature lurking underneath

Let me become one with you

Drag me away from everything

Take me away.

Pull me deep

Deeper than deep

Send me to another realm

You are the helm

The distant shore

Leave it there

A sight of sore

Let me look away

Let the tide

Pull me to the abyss

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Watch Me

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Watch me stumble

Watch me fall

Watch me crumble

I have failed numerous times

I try to reconnect all the pieces

So the image can be picture perfect

How many more time will I fail?

Watch me fake that smile

and laugh that laugh

Sit in my corner

And prepare my slumber

When will I NOT fail?

You just watch me…

Observe ME

Collecting my broken pieces

Pick myself up no matter how many times I stumble and fall

Throw away that fake smile and release my lips and teeth

So the world can see my happy state

Observe me

As I am finally

Accepting

Loving

and Being ME

The Twelfth Piece: School

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As long as I can remember I was never good at making friends or being able to socially connect with others. I didn’t know how to start a conversation without concluding with a pregnant pause or without panicking to the point where my palms would be drenched in sweat. I never wanted anyone to get to know me, but I didn’t want it to make it obvious that there was something wrong with me, so I tried to find a middle ground.

Elementary was easy. Kids. Kids just talk and make friends, right? Well, I don’t remember making much friends. None, actually. I was moved to three different elementary schools in total.

The memories of my first elementary school are vivid. The only memory that really stands out is when my mother decided to celebrate my birthday during lunch time. My face was red with embarrassment. I wondered why she sent me to school in a red puffy dress. I wasn’t embarrassed because of the cake, the balloons, or even the Happy Birthday songs. I was embarrassed because I didn’t have friends to celebrate it with. My mother brought cakes and cupcakes for a over a dozen kids and I didn’t talk to any of them. The rest of the day seemed eternal. I just wanted to leave. Get away.

My second elementary school was the same. I was only there for a year and pretty much acted as if I didn’t exist. I wouldn’t play with anyone or talk to them unless it was school related. For being almost invisible many things occurred in third grade. For one, I had my first french kiss from a boy my age. He was labeled as the trouble kid. He was always getting in trouble with the teachers and just didn’t care for the world. For some reason, I was attracted to that side of him. My memories of how we started that relationship are hazy. All I remember is the kisses and the day I last saw him. We moved shortly after. I was ready to press the reset button.

My third and last school for my elementary years was different. I started fourth grade the same as any other year. I didn’t really talk to anyone. I was getting good at becoming invisible (almost). Until one day, two girls approached me while I was sitting down at my table in the classroom. They said Hi. I looked up and stuttered the same word. That was the beginning of something I never had before; friendship. Before I met B and M, my days were gray. I didn’t have anything to look forward to in school. I just went because I had to. Being invisible was calming because I didn’t have to waste my energy in trying to be something that I was not. After meeting them, school seemed brighter and filled with colors. When I was with them it was as if all the abuse that was occurring at home was nonexistent; being with them made me forget and I genuinely wanted to get closer to them. They were pure in my eyes and I wanted to cherish that. Even though I still had a shield in front of me, I tried my best in our relationship. My demeanor completely changed for those two years of elementary school.

Until the next phase; middle school.

That’s when my storm truly unraveled.

Goodnight

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Look at the pale orange warmth of that sunset

Penetrating through the window

Covering the walls with its splashes of yellow and orange colors.

Let’s tuck you in

It’s time for bed

Let’s watch the dancing colors fade from the ceiling and the walls

Imagine the colors transforming into stars

Imagine that you will travel far…very far

Beyond the dark sky

You wil fly

Close you eyes

Say good bye to the sun’s colors

Welcome the dark blue

The shinning moon

And the millions of cities of lights

Welcome the good night.

My Happy Place

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These past few weeks has been chaotic. My emotions took a toll on me and I really didn’t know how to pick myself up again. My thoughts were in a rampage and my body was betraying me. I couldn’t find my happy place; I was stuck in a fog and I couldn’t find a way out.

A couple days ago, I forced myself to aid my mother in law out in the garden. The first hour or so was dreadful. My body felt heavy and my mind just kept repeating, “Go back to your room.” I didn’t want to do anything. After a while, I found myself feeling at ease and smiling to myself half of the time. The sun was immediately covered by dark gray clouds. Drizzles of cold rain poked my skin and I could feel my darkness fade. For some, this weather can be gloomy and eerie, but to me it was the complete opposite. I looked up and felt cold rain on my face and my chest tighten, but not the type of pressure where you just want to hideaway under your covers, instead it was the type where your light was ready to burst out from days of unwanted incarceration.

I stood there and let the rain fall. I stood there and heard my son’s laughter. I stood there and watched my mother in law rushing to the door trying to avoid the rain. I stood there and closed my eyes and breathed.

I inhaled as much air as I could and exhaled. I repeated the procedure a couple more times.

I opened my eyes and saw my son in joy.

What a beautiful smile I thought to myself.

I walked towards him and picked him up and kissed him. I know I haven’t held him or kissed him since my episode began.

I held him close and did the same when my daughter arrived from school shortly after.

I get lost within my depression. My sight, emotions, and thoughts become thick like a fog and prevents visibility…almost all visibility. There is always a hidden escape from all the chaos. I just have to find my way to it.

I found it this time. It took me a while, but I found it.

Once again, I found my happy place.

The Eleventh Piece Self Harm Part Two (Trigger Warning)

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My mother rarely worried about me, she didn’t have a reason to. I always portrayed as the ‘good girl’ when I was with her, mainly, because her hands were already full with my brothers’ rebellious phase and her two jobs. Truthfully, she didn’t have the energy for anyone else; I don’t blame her. After my father was deported, she was now a single mother raising four children; it wasn’t easy.

The days that followed after my mother found out about my cutting were normal. She didn’t check on me. She didn’t worry. Yes, she asked questions, but that was about it. My guilt belittled my own existence and compassion understood her situation. The blade was my only escape, so I continued to slash away; I expanded my museum on my arm all the way down to my thigh. Every time I closed myself in the bathroom I would make some sort of incision; it didn’t matter if it was deep enough that the blood would pour out continuously or small enough for just a small drop to escape. The blade was my stimulus; I had to have it.

My cutting lasted for about another year.

I stopped when I turned 14 years old.

I was 14 years old when I met him.

I was 14 years old when my struggle and acceptance for love commenced.

The blade was my friend.

Love was my enemy.

Yet, I stopped unaware of the unknown that waited for me.

Depression

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These past couple of weeks has been like a roller coaster ride; like a dodgeball fight and I am the target, or a football match and I’m the single player versus a whole team of negative bitches.

When I wake up and think, “This is not good.” I know is the beginning of a bad day, but I have to wake up.

I am a mother.

I am a wife.

I have to camouflage my insanity with the face of a person who is sane, but that fort can hold for so long. When my facade breaks. I break. The world is against me and I cannot let my shield down, so I fight. I fight back by shutting everyone out…almost everyone.

Like I said,

I am a mother.

So, to my kids I put on my happy mask and hide my truth away. Innocence cannot be devoured by what dwells within me.

I can put on a smile.

I can laugh.

I can be happy when I am with them.

When I am alone, my darkness creeps in.

My thoughts constantly transfer me to a dimension where my existenve is futile and I am free.

STOP! I yell.

Stop that.

Stop the thoughts.

Stop trying to block my path.

Stop it.

Thus, I continue my day in a ongoing battlefield and by the end of the day, I am exhausted.

All that is left is destruction.

All that is left are open wounds.

All the is left is the everlasting fires of my disaster.

All that is left is the missing pieces of myself

Scattered somewhere out in the field; begging to be found.

I welcome the moon to put me at ease, but my enemies wash away my sleep.

My war continues into the night.

An endless battle.

An endless fight.