Let me tell you how I feel

without really telling you

let me tell you what you want to hear 

let me split my mind in two

let me keep my stories short

keep them to myself

let me mellow out my emotions

the descriptions, my mental health

let me push down my personality

let me shield you from the truth

I swear to god, I'm so vanilla

no need to introduce..

the honesty about myself

just listen to my lies

everything about me is vanilla

I'm sorry I can't moralize

the rights and wrongs of what I'm doing

this doesn't feel like it's wrong

it's just a self made protection

that's been there for way too long

let me hide my ideas, my dark thoughts or even my moments of joy

because I just don't want to bore you

I can't bare that I even toy

toy with your emotions, or mess with your ideas

so I keep myself vanilla

I have for years and years

• 10/22/2018
• Poetry

Vanilla

Let me tell you how I feel

without really telling you

let me tell you what you want to hear 

let me split my mind in two

let me keep my stories short

keep them to myself

let me mellow out my emotions

the descriptions, my mental health

let me push down my personality

let me shield you from the truth

I swear to god, I'm so vanilla

no need to introduce..

the honesty about myself

just listen to my lies

everything about me is vanilla

I'm sorry I can't moralize

the rights and wrongs of what I'm doing

this doesn't feel like it's wrong

it's just a self made protection

that's been there for way too long

let me hide my ideas, my dark thoughts or even my moments of joy

because I just don't want to bore you

I can't bare that I even toy

toy with your emotions, or mess with your ideas

so I keep myself vanilla

I have for years and years

Read more »

A thing I've come to realise

after so long of worrying and the indecisive thoughts

I owe you nothing 

I owe you nothing and I ought

I ought to think about myself more

consider other people's opinions less

as to, why does my value decrease?

just because to you I'm not your best

option

why should I be an option?

I am not a choice

You have me or you can hate me 

I'm entitled to my voice

sick

sick of being silent 

silencing my screams and the pain I've come to feel

forcing myself to be something, do something

being made to feel like I'm no longer real

numb

empty

as I let your hands grab me and take what you want 

my personality, my emotions, my passions

all they began to do was haunt

haunt me like a ghost

something I'd left behind

because I felt I owed you everything

everything, from my body to my mind

now, a different story

something I've come to realise

I truly owe you nothing

especially not the tears from my tired eyes

I truly owe you nothing

another person's taught me that

it's me or it is sweet fuck all

from the rolls on my stomach, to my nonsense I call 'chat'

I owe you nothing

I never did owe you a thing

as much as I felt I had to change, to mould, to melt into your needs 

I owe the world nothing

no more cries, worries or pleads

pleads 

to make someone love me

to make myself fit in

to make myself more 'perfect'

to make myself more thin

I owe you nothing

I never had to

I never did

I owe myself more than this

every stupid minute I wasted

waiting

waiting 

for someone to love me

even just my own mind

I owe myself more than this

to my body, to be kind

I owe myself more than this

I've torn myself apart

I owe myself nothing but

to go back to the very start

to have someone remind me

remind me of who I am 

to bring back everything I thought I owed the world 

and place it in my hands

to tell me I owe you nothing 

to cement it in my mind

I truly owe you nothing

I was completely. fucking. blind.

• 10/14/2018
• Poetry

I Owe You Nothing

A thing I've come to realise

after so long of worrying and the indecisive thoughts

I owe you nothing 

I owe you nothing and I ought

I ought to think about myself more

consider other people's opinions less

as to, why does my value decrease?

just because to you I'm not your best

option

why should I be an option?

I am not a choice

You have me or you can hate me 

I'm entitled to my voice

sick

sick of being silent 

silencing my screams and the pain I've come to feel

forcing myself to be something, do something

being made to feel like I'm no longer real

numb

empty

as I let your hands grab me and take what you want 

my personality, my emotions, my passions

all they began to do was haunt

haunt me like a ghost

something I'd left behind

because I felt I owed you everything

everything, from my body to my mind

now, a different story

something I've come to realise

I truly owe you nothing

especially not the tears from my tired eyes

I truly owe you nothing

another person's taught me that

it's me or it is sweet fuck all

from the rolls on my stomach, to my nonsense I call 'chat'

I owe you nothing

I never did owe you a thing

as much as I felt I had to change, to mould, to melt into your needs 

I owe the world nothing

no more cries, worries or pleads

pleads 

to make someone love me

to make myself fit in

to make myself more 'perfect'

to make myself more thin

I owe you nothing

I never had to

I never did

I owe myself more than this

every stupid minute I wasted

waiting

waiting 

for someone to love me

even just my own mind

I owe myself more than this

to my body, to be kind

I owe myself more than this

I've torn myself apart

I owe myself nothing but

to go back to the very start

to have someone remind me

remind me of who I am 

to bring back everything I thought I owed the world 

and place it in my hands

to tell me I owe you nothing 

to cement it in my mind

I truly owe you nothing

I was completely. fucking. blind.

Read more »

*trigger warning*

*trigger warning*

Knelt over your toilet, fingers scratching your throat.

Empty packets of pills, baggy jumpers to hide the bloat.

Calorie counting apps and organised binges. 

Never telling a person, incase anyone cringes.

Hours spent in your bathroom, shower running to cover the noise.

Pushing people away, especially avoiding boys.

Empty packets of food thrown in the bin, only for you to wish the cravings didn't win.

Voices in your head and hands running across your body.

The horrible thing is, I'm not even sorry.

Days filled with lies and crying at your reflection.

Then you just make it worse by destroying your complexion.

My wrists want to bleed, but is that always the answer?

Sometimes a scolding hot shower makes the feeling go much faster.

No more periods, replaced with thinning out hair and a constant cold.

Being terrified of gaining the weight again as you grow old. 

But there's something about it, something about letting the voices win.

"Oh what I'd give to be worryingly thin."

Someone tells you "you look like you're dying".

Why does that make me feel like I'm suddenly thriving?

Doctors waiting room's and standing on scales.

You're told you need to be admitted, yet a screaming voice prevails.

Meal plans mean nothing and advice floats right through you.

It's a case of denial, "none of this will help you". 

Your stuck in a bubble, everything feels empty.

Dark intrusive thoughts? Oh I've got plenty.

Your life is repetitive, everything has become routine.

Won't eat anything, unless it's an apple, or it's green.

You're thriving from dying; You, Ana, Mia, and good ol' BED.

"There's no escaping them, until they're happy with me". 

• 10/06/2018
• Poetry

"We Thrive From Dying"

*trigger warning*

*trigger warning*

Knelt over your toilet, fingers scratching your throat.

Empty packets of pills, baggy jumpers to hide the bloat.

Calorie counting apps and organised binges. 

Never telling a person, incase anyone cringes.

Hours spent in your bathroom, shower running to cover the noise.

Pushing people away, especially avoiding boys.

Empty packets of food thrown in the bin, only for you to wish the cravings didn't win.

Voices in your head and hands running across your body.

The horrible thing is, I'm not even sorry.

Days filled with lies and crying at your reflection.

Then you just make it worse by destroying your complexion.

My wrists want to bleed, but is that always the answer?

Sometimes a scolding hot shower makes the feeling go much faster.

No more periods, replaced with thinning out hair and a constant cold.

Being terrified of gaining the weight again as you grow old. 

But there's something about it, something about letting the voices win.

"Oh what I'd give to be worryingly thin."

Someone tells you "you look like you're dying".

Why does that make me feel like I'm suddenly thriving?

Doctors waiting room's and standing on scales.

You're told you need to be admitted, yet a screaming voice prevails.

Meal plans mean nothing and advice floats right through you.

It's a case of denial, "none of this will help you". 

Your stuck in a bubble, everything feels empty.

Dark intrusive thoughts? Oh I've got plenty.

Your life is repetitive, everything has become routine.

Won't eat anything, unless it's an apple, or it's green.

You're thriving from dying; You, Ana, Mia, and good ol' BED.

"There's no escaping them, until they're happy with me". 

Read more »