If I were an organ I'd be an appendix
disposable

I put the phone on silent so I can pretend to not
notice it when my teachers call
I do not need another voice telling
me I am failing
I have enough of that in my head

My mom says people only lie out of fear
But I don't know if I'm more afraid
that I will be caught
Or that I won't

I watch TV
a lot
I like stories, characters, plotlines
they are so predictable
I like watching shows and knowing what will happen
even when I don't, someone is in control
and I know everything will be okay

I wish I was a character in a TV show
no
I wish I was an actress
I wish I could wear someone else's skin for most of the day
and pretend pretend pretend for a living
I wish I could peel my identity off like a band-aid and
worry someone else's worries
and know everything will be okay

hands are so beautiful
I look at mine, fingers flexed
and I move each one slowly
watching the tendons on the back of my hand pull
like piano strings

"they're cat scratches"
I say to those who ask
it's the truth
what I don't say is
"they're cat scratches from when I purposefully antagonized my cat
it's easier that way, no one really to blame
and when you rip away your scabs
no one seems to notice as much as when you
rip away your skin"

I tried to learn piano
I liked the give of the keys
under my fingertips
and the fact that I could make something beautiful
instead of ruin it

have you ever held your breath
at the bottom of a pool
and looked up
the lens of water over the sky
is so beautiful
I tried to die like that but
self preservation is a b****

do you ever wish you were a bug
that you only lived for a day
that you never had the time to hate
yourself quite so
much

there is vicodin in her cabinet
and I think of swallowing every last one
and holding my breath at the bottom of
the pool
you can't make yourself live
if you're not awake

I fell in love with a girl once
(is this the part where I should mention I'm a girl, too?)
I thought I was just jealous
when all I could think about was her long dark hair
and big brown eyes
and soft, thin hands
long, lovely fingers that spilled music from pianos
like water from a glass
I wondered what her lips would feel like
what flavor of pink they were
and I chastised myself for my envy

this is what happens when you're afraid
of yourself
when you like the round curve
of a woman's waist
hipbones sharp as razorblades
and twisting the fabric of her dress in your fist
as you kiss

when you're afraid of the dark thoughts in your head
when you sit on the kitchen counter
and cry
the weight of the knife heavy in your hand
when the crescents of your fingernails
are hidden in your scalp
and you love the winter
for it's long sleeves
and turtlenecks

hating yourself is exhausting
no wonder
people talk about being tired
in their suicide notes

maybe mine will too