"I feel like getting back to my roots. Like reading poetry and books and cleaning my room and laying on my floor like a hippie. Every once in a while I get into these moods and I’m wondering why they don’t come around so often. I wish I could stop talking. I feel like when everything is a whirlwind of things I can’t understand, I just have to stop. I’ve been thinking a lot about growing up and being and I’m scared. I see all the pictures of me as a little girl and I can’t remember her and I guess it’s sad in a way. I guess everything is sad in a way. I stare at myself in the mirror and I become pieces I can’t recognize. I stare at everything around me, and it’s all foreign. There’s scars all over me, even the ones that faded, well, they hurt the fucking most."
- Ellie Decides to Die, Veronica Wilkinson
"I am a firm believer in the theory that each person in your life plays a role - no matter how big or small. And when they are gone, let them go. Do not grovel. Do not weep. And most certainly, do not chase. Let them go, I say. There are places in your life and in your heart, and if they do not wish to stay, they will be relinquished, I promise. By god, let them go."
- The best advice I have ever heard
I am trying to forget you because you were a mistake.
But you changed everything. You came here and you left
And you changed everything.
I want to watch the stars with you and wander around,
Perfect, whole and right. You came here and made me
Think you saw me whole and right. All I wanted was
To be whole and right. In your eyes.
But I am just a star wandering around sad and
Horribly out of place.
Loneliness leads you to insanity
I woke up wanting
To break every dish
In my house again.
Each night,
About this time,
She puts on sadness like
A garment and goes on
Writing.
"I’m the only one who is allowed to hurt me. You know why? The self-hate, I love it. I hurt myself - emotionally or physically, and I can hate myself all I want. Because, you know, I don’t know who to hate. So, I turn it inwards. Like my own personal punching bag. I figure someday soon there won’t be any of me left. I guess I’m working towards that."
- Holly Boxton, Ellie Decided to Die
I am so tired
of feeling like
a shattered vase
across a slippery floor
and I am so tired of
watching you tip toe
around the pieces so
you do not cut yourself
on me.
I walk away and I am disappearing,
the farther I go the farther I sink into
the ground, cosmic dust sparkles and rains.
A fragile young with bones of cosmic dust.
She is here and you don’t miss her and
You never learn to appreciate her, and her
Smile full of all the colors and cosmic dust.
She walks away and she is disappearing,
And the sun won’t follow her, only
The clouds. It’s always terribly cold
Where she goes, no warmth or
Any feelings at all. Every time she
Crossed the road she disappeared
A
Little
More.
If you look closely,
Cosmic dust is left all over the floor.
She leaves her heart wherever she goes.
And the cosmic dust explodes.
It starts when you can’t stop yourself from seeing the good in people. It ends when you have continually been denied and rejected and you still think they’re good. But soon, people leave you unhappy, you become apathetic, the rain doesn’t make you happy anymore, the music doesn’t make you dance anymore, and the people leave you so, so, sad.
I belong here
In this cruel world we call home
Alone
With no one to share laughs
Or smiles
Just my thoughts and my dreams of you
As if they don’t already consume my mind enough
Playing back your voice
Pretending we are
But we won’t
Again I visualize your face
And I try to forget what they say
Because we don’t need to be rushed
Time is of the essence
But we can’t waste our precious time
There is another world at night, when I cannot sleep. Manic insomniac. There is so much to do and not enough time to accomplish it. Every thought in my brain is profound and incredibly creative. I write for hours, and I write some more. I blast music and I sing and I make lists, lots of lists. I go outside, and I am not afraid of the night. I am not afraid of the darkness, since I know it so well. I always remember to take a key and head out for walks at 3 in the morning. I am a ball of life, of energy. If I sit down I am wasting my life. I will sleep when I’m dead. Sleep is for the weak, the incapable. Depressive insomniac. I sit in bed while my mind rots away. I am physically exhausted, mentally exhausted, my eyelashes feel like weights. But I cannot sleep. I stare at the ceiling, I go on the roof. It takes exponential energy to move my body. No amount of sleep could shake the exhaustion. My brain is a lull, but still I cannot sleep. I don’t know which I prefer. My mind is so loud and obtrusive, how I wish I could escape it. Even in my sleep it controls my mind and presses me to awaken. Presses me to realize that while I sleep I am closer to dying, I am closer to the end and I must do, do, do, before it’s too late. My mind knows what I cannot face.
Now every night I talk to myself, to the moon, to the stars, to the trees.
I sit on my roof and I face no one because it so much easier than facing people.
I will always say the wrong thing and leave at the wrong time.
You will look at me strange and I will turn red, maybe only on the inside.
On my roof I drag a blanket and I do not have to be happy or be
Valuable or be clever. I throw my masks to the sky, so many masks,
And I laugh as they fall with the stars.
I can walk to the moon, I can take my time.
This world on my roof, this universe accepts my being.
It does not strike me down.
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