I just had to share.

Danielle M Moran

I am worthless
I am pathetic
I am hopeless
At least I’m poetic

I was never good enough
No matter how hard I tried
I could hardly pretend
It killed me inside

Insomnia is awful
I am so depressed
I really need to eat
And I really need to rest

Waking up is not easy
But going to bed is worse
The nightmares are terrifying
It is a curse

I will never be enough
Even for me
Not being enough for you
Makes me agree

Too good to be
You told me to be strong
I clung to your promises
But you were all wrong

You saw something inside of me
Clearly, you were mistaken
I’ll never be good enough
That’s why you’ve forsaken

If I could be someone else
I would change right now
I would do anything I could
And whatever, God, would allow

You may not have…

View original post 59 more words


The Purple People Eater

I dyed my hair purple about 2 weeks ago. Now, people can call me a purple haired femi-nazi. Or a bleeding heart liberal. Except I'm not affiliated with any party. I'm independent. But I'm a "crazy Democrat" because I don't believe children should be held accountable for the crimes of their parents. If a parent… Continue reading The Purple People Eater

The Little Girl in the Mirror

This is beautiful. So much truth & it reminds me of a 13 year old me.

The Bipolar Writer

The little girl sits in her room, her face illuminated by a screen, the room dark apart from this one square of light. She plays melodic, dramatic songs, songs you’d never hear on the top 40 or on the commute to work. Her slim figure is drowned in an enormous black hoodie, the sleeves of which cover her hands down to her fingers, revealing chipped and bitten nail polish. In all senses, the girl is no different to any other thirteen year-old, holed up in her bedroom, connecting with the internet world far more than her real world. It’s what teenagers do, so they say.

But this thirteen year-old is still a little girl and she’s researching suicide.

The year is 2005. Mental health is still kept firmly behind closed doors, along with sexuality and gender identity. The term ‘suicide’ is usually only spoken of by mentally healthy people, commenting…

View original post 590 more words

Trying to Kill the Want


Kristi Coulter | Nothing Good Can Come From This | MCD x FSG | August 2018 | 15 minutes (3,080 words)

I had just left Babeland and was heading to my car when I spotted the otter I thought might get me sober. He was in the window of the craft shop next door, waiting to be felted into being and then hung on a Christmas tree or something. I didn’t know what felting was, or even that it could be a verb. I assumed that felt, like most things, sprang from Zeus’s forehead in precut rectangles, ready to rock. Apparently not. I stood on the sidewalk, looking at the otter and contemplating all the things I could learn if I got my head right, before going inside.

I had a hopeful, sheepish relationship to crafting stores. I saw them as temples to utility and skill and the concept…

View original post 3,153 more words


Beautiful poem! Had to share!

Havoc and Consequence

Fire crack cackle in hushed shadows.
Little fingers about to be cut off.
What you say makes me shudder.
A creeping shiver left at the side of the bed.
A mind now full of kitty litter.
With the life looking and an ache to scratch.
Weakness, tossed out like surprise.
Sweetness that came in like a hammer to the glass heart.
Lick me up like spite, with a malice reduced down into silver spoons.
As I fall away from you.
And watch you choke on words and not loneliness.
It moves now in to post-blue passive aggressive.
Feeling the testosterone in our bones.
Angry, because you wanted it this way.
Embattled and emblazed with the world shouting us as well.
Waiting for the silence to once again smother our fires.

View original post