Is this what the beginning feels like?

I can’t sit in the same room as you,
without thinking about the heartache I’m going to cause,
for my freedom I have to put another knife in your heart,
unwillingly
for my happiness I have to put another door between me and you,
unwillingly,
for my dreams I have to ignore the agony in your voice over the phone,
unwillingly of course,

Or maybe not,
Maybe I’m tired of following your dreams for me,
Maybe I’m exhausted staying up all night wondering if I’ll meet your expectations this time or ever,
Maybe I’m just a little worn out,
Maybe I really am empty now because I emptied all your dreams out of my mind and now I’m searching for mine,

Is this what the beginning feels like? 

Who am I?

Who am I?
I am a person who has endured far too much before hitting puberty.
What someone would face throughout a lifetime, I have faced in 16 years.
I am a person ashamed of everything done to this very moment yet proudly wearing it on my forehead for all to see.
Nothing has made me more ashamed than that.
I am a person similar to a window made with the thinnest glass.
With bullet holes plenty, I refuse to shatter now or ever.
I am a person who doesn’t cry on anyone’s record.
Hit and touched and told things that burn me for years yet not a tear falls because of them.
I am not strong but weak does not define me either.
Calling myself a beauty would be a beautiful lie but a beast is not the definition of me either.
So what am I?
I am me.

My eyelashes

My eyelashes have been threatening to interlock all day and the shading under my eyes have become darker than usual.

My body is hollow except for the burning in my chest from all the hidden wounds reopening and the burning in my throat from all the silent screams.

My question always seems to be “How did I survive this long?” Did nobody notice my miserable eyes or were they all too busy staring at my seemingly innocent smile.

- Mehtap

Late into the Night (triggering)

Late into the night my thoughts go wild.
The worst part is that I remain conscious throughout.
Making me perfect bait.
And slowly the demons only I can see crawl towards me.
Smearing my pale skin with their black nothingness.

I use to cry and plead them to stop till dawn.
Now I let them do what they want.

So they piece by piece they take me apart.
They start with over sized legs and then my fat covered arms.
Then take my abdomen and chest making sure to break every rib.
They cut my mouth in half.
Telling me “Stop yelping. Nobody is going to come for help.”

Three quarters of my face left so they go into detail.
Taking my ears off saying nobody talked to you anyways.
Then skinning my scalp just to be cruel
Cutting up everything into fine pieces yet leaving my eyes untouched.

Left to watch as they chew on my flesh.
Tell me I taste deliciously depressed.
That it’s a good thing I was marinating in severe depression for five years or else I would’ve been low quality.
Moaning at my tenderness from all the days spent laying in bed because I couldn’t find anything within that was meaningful enough.
Staring as drool and half chewed food fall out of their large mouths.
Waiting and waiting for someone to come wake me up.

- Mehtap

Pink Petals (triggering)

A tub filled with pink petals.

A body filled with pain.

To suffer this long takes real strength.

Yet the strong are equally vulnerable as any other.

They try and try but never succeed.

Nor do they fail.

So what else is there than to try something new.

Something new like slitting their wrists and looking at the petals from  below.

- Mehtap

Gloomy Feelings

Gloomy feelings of realization crawled into my mind,

Like I was given binoculars to read a sign written black on black

And it’s just sad, so sad, that I was given binoculars for eyes that have been blindfolded for years,

And I tighten the blindfold more and more every day,

Thinking maybe one day it’ll be tight enough to cut the circulation to my brain,

Thinking maybe it’ll stop the torment and tangled up emotions,

"Maybe I could untangle myself by myself." I use to think,

Then I realized that the rope was replaced with barbed wire not long ago when I couldn’t live without popping a few now and an hour later,

Now I can’t move or even breath without being torn,

My hands can’t tighten my blindfolds anymore or even take them off if I ever which I may never want,

And that’s when I started seeing twinkles of light as the blindfold falls to the ground slowly,

I get scratched and torn as I keep my eyes locked and reach with all the strength I don’t have to grab it,

The barb wire tightens and loosens and closes in and breaks apart in vain,

I am no longer restrained,

Reaching for the blindfold I see out of the corner of my sensitive eyes,

"I don’t need the blindfold" I spoke almost as if a question,

I never needed it for more than the 50 seconds I was told to count while my friends of age 5 all hid in tight spaces and high places,

Never realizing that they had noticed I stopped counting and called it quits after waiting so long,

Causing others who live in bliss created by their ignorance to their selfishness come forth and speak,

Speak as if they had known me a lifetime or two,

Loving me for the words they knew were not sincere or true,

Though all of this they still tried to walk with me,

They reached across the flaming stars and dark sides of the moons, 

Just to find me,

The oceans filled with unknowns and lands never seen before,

Just to hold me,

By the corner of my torn shirt or bloodstained hand I didn’t dare to lock with another,

So they can never let go of what they never held,

Still they reached because of Vain who only wanted to know all the “why?”s of the way I am,

Accompanied by ignorance that wanted to stop being ignorant just for a little while,

Approaching with no intent,

Yet managing to help me walk and talk without strain,

Feel joy and love with no fears or regrets,

Telling me it’s okay,

It’s okay to take the retched lie off my eyes and stop the scars from multiplying on my arms,

It’s okay.

Mehtap