Mirrors.

Mirrors; a room full of mirrors.

Every where I turn - I see myself

A reflection of brokenness.

I step closer to the mirror in front of me.

I pinch my fat.

I curse my eyebrows

I pull at my hair.

I can't stand looking at the flaws these mirrors reflect.

 

Running; I run this way and that.

But I just keep running into a new mirror

Running from myself, into myself

I can't escape me.

That's all I ever wanted to do.

It hits me finally, 

There is no door. 

I'm stuck with me, 

Trapped and suffocating,

in this room full of mirrors.

 

Screaming; I scream until my throat is raw.

I scream out all my frustration

I scream so someone would hear.

But no one can hear and I know that somewhere.

I can't help but scream anyways.

I scream so loud and so long my brain becomes clouded

It's dark and I kick. 

I kick out a mirror in front of me.

 

Pieces; pieces of mirror shattered in front of me.

I pick one gently up and stare at it, oh so delicately.

It's rigged and rough and beautiful.

This shattered mirror that's finally a true reflection of me.

Broken and in pieces. 

Away.

 

Can you bring me close enough

To push me on my way?

To another town

to another place

far away?

From memories that collide

with my mind.

away from them.

away from

us.

 

a.p.

 

 

 

Love.

How does a soul 
become entrapped
in the existence
of another?

Is that what one
simply calls love?
Or is it only
the complex emotion
of infatuation?

I've always been told
love is liberating -
So tell me why 
we never seem
to escape its grip?


I have been in love,
it was both thrilling
and excruciating. 

Abyss.

What happens 

when they take your breath away?

and you no longer can breathe?

and you no longer want to anyways?

what happens 

when you can't be strong anymore?

and you just stare into nothing because its easier anyways.

What happens

when there is no beginning; and there is no end?

Do you just slowly crumble away

Like the loose rocks from an ancient mountain,

down into the dark valley and the gaping abyss? 

a.p.

Broken Wings.

With a weakened voice

The distance
will remind
Me:


I am not

gone

yet.


With a rough touch

The torture
will remind
Me:

I can still

Feel


Because
I was born
With

broken wings.

Beautiful.

You call me beautiful.

You say everything I am is beautiful.

You tell me you want to give me the world.

But you can’t.

And I don’t know what hurts more.

Knowing you can’t,

or knowing you want too.

If this isn't hell, what is?

People look at me and all they see is the plastered smile. All they see is the fact my stomach protrudes and my thighs touch. All they see is my hair that never does what I ask it to do. All they see is the girl covered in makeup, and sometimes the girl who was “too lazy” to look presentable. All they see is the girl who does her hardest at her job and cries when she’s overwhelmed. All they see is this girl who pretends to be strong. All they see is what’s on the outside.

They don’t see the pain behind my tears. They don’t see the frown lines, hidden by my smile. They don’t see the insecurities. They don’t see how sometimes I have too much on my mind to cover the ugliness I see as my face. They don’t see the demons I fight, not only in my dreams, but everyday, that cause my dark circles under my eyes. They don’t see how I binge every day on food to fill up what’s empty inside. They don’t see the pain that wraps around every part of my life and squeezes, until I can’t breathe anymore. The horror that twists the view I have of myself; until I can’t even look in the mirror anymore. They don’t see how weak I really am inside.

I’m gasping out for air.
Freedom.
My arms are flailing.
Searching.
Hoping to grasp onto something.
Nothing.
And I just have to wake up and do it again.

I’m not afraid of dying. I’m afraid of what’s after. If this isn't hell, what is?

I am not an elegant person.

So what am I then?

I am every little thing I do and every little thing I say. I watch movies just to make myself cry. I dance to music when no one is looking. I take things a little too far. I find drama funnier than I should. I swear worse than any sailor I've ever known (which is none, but it's still pretty bad.) I laugh at the most inappropriate times. There's coffee stains on my notes. I stay awake until three in the morning, day dreaming about my future. I stare at strangers for far too long. I eat too fast. Sometimes I forget to say please, but never forget to say thank you. I watch shows about crazy people and crime. I laugh. I cry. I want to punch things in the face (even when they don't have one.) I will interrupt a story, and apologize profusely. I lose track of things I say and sometimes repeat myself three or four times. I will stumble on a smooth passage way. I crinkle my nose when I find something adorable. I adore Disney movies. I pretend I'm grown up. I know big words, yet struggle to string them together. I stutter. I sing horribly. I sing anyways. I don't like looking at myself in the mirror. I'm ten times prettier than I am in pictures. I make bad decisions. I fall in love too hard and too fast, with people I have never seen in person. I live by quotes. I am a perfectionist. I am a warrior. I fight hard for what I want. I give up too easily.  I never forget to say I love you, in fact, I probably say it too much.

I am not an elegant person.
I am me.
I am Ann.

Welcome to my wonderland.