Just Writing From Within

There is this woman. She is young, but frown lines mark her beaten, exhausted face. She is sitting on the B train, two stops away from the hectic life she lives. She would take her own car, but the train is the only time she is at peace. She is a businesswoman in a world of businessmen. Always striving to be a step ahead so she won’t get left behind. Always taking on extra jobs to prove herself as if she hasn’t already done that through her degree from Harvard and her quick rise to the top. She is serious and strong, but her eyes are a sea of compassion and sympathy; something she sees as both a strength and weakness. She sits alone on the train, as she does in her apartment – although she rarely has time to sit in her apartment. It is simply a docking station to sleep and brew her black coffee every morning. She thought about getting a dog to fill the silence, but she ultimately decided that her lifestyle wouldn’t be fair to it; it needs more love than that. One. More. Stop. ...

Honorary family member: a person who isn’t technically blood related, but might as well be. Every family has those select few people who have become part of the family without actually being related to anyone. Mary Koval was that person in my family. She had been best friends with my aunt for as long as I could remember. She was the person who everyone was excited to see at family gatherings. The person who would always take the kids for the night when the adults needed some time off. The person who made the best food and would show up at your doorstep with homemade chicken noodle soup when you weren’t feeling well. No matter what the circumstances were, if you called her, she would be there - no questions asked. She was my best friend, my favorite person, my Mary. Until that day: the day she left me. It was October 22nd, 2016, and my friends were at my house for a sleepover. We were upstairs making pizza when I realized my phone was about to die, so I went into my parents’ room ...

Dear You, The amount of pain you have caused me over the last few years is hard to look back on. I want to forget but I can’t. I can’t forget when I’m being reminded everyday, over and over again. I also can’t forgive you. I can’t forgive you for the things I’ve missed because of you. You made it physically impossible for me to live my life. You held me captive during the things I cared about most until I couldn’t show my face again in fear that they wouldn’t even recognize me after all this time being away. I fought you long and hard; seldom giving in and never giving up. But I’m done. I am over the pain and I have come to the realization that I don’t need you. So I’m letting you go. We’re through. I will not miss you and I think it’s best if you never contact me again. So goodbye. I can’t say I wish you the best because that would be a lie. Worst, A fed up sick girl

I cried today. I cried in front of someone I would never imagine crying to. My pain pouring out of my mouth with no off switch. What happened to me? I am not someone who complains. I am not someone who burdens others with my problems. I look in the mirror and I don’t recognize myself. Maybe this is who I am now, But I sure as hell don’t like it. I am not weak. I do not cry or complain about my problems to anyone who will listen. My minuscule, irrelevant problems do not compare to others’. When did I become this pathetic, problematic child who can’t handle themself? When did I become this negative, sad person? When did the light in my eyes disappear? When did I become someone who breaks down and gives up at the sight of trouble? When did I stop caring? Did I finally break? Did my glass finally shatter to a point of no return? No, It couldn’t have.

Memories stream from all directions filling my mind Waiting to be sorted Waiting to be remembered as I scan through them Grasping for one that looks like me More than the me in the mirror I no longer recognize her Her confusion Her sadness Her pain She is not the me from my memories I try to piece it together Where she came from When she changed How it got this bad But those aren’t the memories I kept I pushed them down Hid them Forgot them Escaped them I blurred the gap between happiness and darkness But sometimes life slows down and I look in the mirror Tears streaming No idea how I got here What happened to that girl The one in my memories

I want to feel it all the hatred the sadness the undeniable love I want to feel it all let it sink into my whole being every inch overflowing I want to feel it all so I can remember it when it all goes away

Being chronically ill is the worst. Scratch that. Being chronically ill and in high school is the actual worst. While all your friends get to have sleepovers and stay out late, you are stuck at home because you’re sick and too weak to stand. While everyone gets to take every AP class offered that you want to take so badly, you have to “lighten your load” so you don’t get too far behind when you miss two weeks of school because you couldn’t get out of bed. On top of that, you get the stares. Not the kind of stares that people want, not that anyone really wants to be stared at, but the uncomfortable stares when your stomach decides to erupt with noise just because you decided to eat that moring. Although you know they try not to, it is involuntary. But you don’t blame them, you would probably stare too if you heard what sounds like a lion roar coming from someone’s stomach. No matter how hard you try to hide it, everyone always ends up finding out. After a little while your teachers...

What do you do when life starts attacking you mentally, physically, and emotionally. Leaving you with an undiagnosed illness and a childhood defined by sexual abuse? Well, you fight like hell. You do the best you can, when you can, and when you can’t, you get better so you can. You don’t let people tell you how to feel, you tell them how you feel. You advocate for yourself when asshole doctors tell you to “stop crying, it won’t make you less sick.” You prove everyone wrong when they doubt you because “why didn’t you tell someone sooner,” or “how did you not know” as a five year old that your “best friend” was violating you. You continue on. Despite the explosions going off in your stomach and the constant need to run to the bathroom. Despite everyone having an opinion on how you can “fix” yourself. Despite people assuming that you are only your past. Despite the questioning faces when you burst into tears from the agonizing pain. You continue on when your body is t...

I refuse to say That I am hurting inside.   I will not be weak.

In a constant whirl, Searching for a place To finally rest

I am lost on how To care for others, but to Also care for me

Please give me something To make me believe again In something greater

Do not pity me; it will only make things worse. Do not look at me and let it be known that you can see the exhaustion pulling at my body, begging for some peace and quiet. Do not tell me what to do because I will do the opposite. Not because I am stubborn, but because I am afraid. Of being controlled. Of being invisible. Of being manipulated. I will not be a puppet. Not anymore. I am sick. I am broken. I am hurting. I know that you know. So Do not pity me; it will only make things worse. I will hide it all, and then you will see nothing.

A little girl Thrown against a wall Her clothes ripped off Trapped underneath someone she trusted Violated before she even knew what the word meant Left in a dark cold room Waiting Hoping for someone to find her Save her

I look at you and smile My heart beating with joy There are no words that encompass all that I feel for you; I am speechless at the thought of you I feel safe in your arms The world could be against me, But I’d be okay Protected by your love You may not know this, But you deserve the world You deserve to feel the same happiness That you give me everyday I am not perfect, I could even be seen as broken All I know is, With you— I am whole