Mirah : Mt. St. Helens
This past weekend someone I had just met was comfortable enough to share their grim past with me. And I shared mine with him. As much as I love making new friends, I wish that I would have had that conversation with you. I wish you would tell me things about your life that you don't tell everyone. I want to be able to hold you when things are rough. You telling me that you're happy to hear from me is only going to make me smile for so long. I'm so afraid of coming home. You're always on my mind. The "what ifs" still tear me apart.
Recently, someone told me I was an idiot, hopeless, and worthless for not having faith in my life. I have lived the past eight years of my life with no faith. I'm still here. I'm still living. I'm doing well on my own. I don't need a crutch to help me through.
I presented my introspection piece. I was on the verge of tears just showing the slides but I didn't cry at all. My professor asked me about cutting and why people do it and how the whole process works. I guess it was strange to me that people don't know. Two girls grabbed me after my presentation and told me I was brave for sharing such serious parts of my life. Most of the others didn't really talk about anything important, maybe because there isn't anything there or they just don't want to share it. Sometimes I think I scare people when I talk about my past or think that I do it for pity. But really, I like sharing my life. People haven't experienced some of the things that I have, and not that I want them to, but I wish they knew how it felt. Therapy never really did much for me, maybe because I thought about how broke my mom was and that we were spending $90 an hour for me to talk to someone. Or maybe therapy just wasn't for me, period. But when I went to free group meetings and talked to people my age, is when I started getting better. I think without all that, I'd still be mute and I'd still hate my life.
From the morning when I rise from my bed 'till the evening when I lay my head in slumber, oh, the loss of you does wreck my days. Leaves me with a violent hunger. I will never be free from you 'till I escape the lion's jaw. There's no welcome in the end. There's no reason to return again. The mountain stood so large. We were humbled. We walked a high and lonely path. The sun beat down on the ground. We looked around us. There were no trees there. We found a creek there. We dipped our feet there. We were alone there. There was still hope there. There had been a great disaster. The hot winds came just after. A tremendous shock was felt. Survivors often tell the trees all hit the ground. Death was all around and not a single lonesome sigh. The example lay before you. You knew what you had to do. You have a pressure in you to destroy the one who loved you. The death was all around. You were hotter to me than the sun that burned me up the day we went to Mount Saint Helens. And if the special death you gave to me is the prize I get to take home solemnly and suffer with the fact that I could never be your friend. I could never come back home again.
This past weekend someone I had just met was comfortable enough to share their grim past with me. And I shared mine with him. As much as I love making new friends, I wish that I would have had that conversation with you. I wish you would tell me things about your life that you don't tell everyone. I want to be able to hold you when things are rough. You telling me that you're happy to hear from me is only going to make me smile for so long. I'm so afraid of coming home. You're always on my mind. The "what ifs" still tear me apart.
Recently, someone told me I was an idiot, hopeless, and worthless for not having faith in my life. I have lived the past eight years of my life with no faith. I'm still here. I'm still living. I'm doing well on my own. I don't need a crutch to help me through.
I presented my introspection piece. I was on the verge of tears just showing the slides but I didn't cry at all. My professor asked me about cutting and why people do it and how the whole process works. I guess it was strange to me that people don't know. Two girls grabbed me after my presentation and told me I was brave for sharing such serious parts of my life. Most of the others didn't really talk about anything important, maybe because there isn't anything there or they just don't want to share it. Sometimes I think I scare people when I talk about my past or think that I do it for pity. But really, I like sharing my life. People haven't experienced some of the things that I have, and not that I want them to, but I wish they knew how it felt. Therapy never really did much for me, maybe because I thought about how broke my mom was and that we were spending $90 an hour for me to talk to someone. Or maybe therapy just wasn't for me, period. But when I went to free group meetings and talked to people my age, is when I started getting better. I think without all that, I'd still be mute and I'd still hate my life.
From the morning when I rise from my bed 'till the evening when I lay my head in slumber, oh, the loss of you does wreck my days. Leaves me with a violent hunger. I will never be free from you 'till I escape the lion's jaw. There's no welcome in the end. There's no reason to return again. The mountain stood so large. We were humbled. We walked a high and lonely path. The sun beat down on the ground. We looked around us. There were no trees there. We found a creek there. We dipped our feet there. We were alone there. There was still hope there. There had been a great disaster. The hot winds came just after. A tremendous shock was felt. Survivors often tell the trees all hit the ground. Death was all around and not a single lonesome sigh. The example lay before you. You knew what you had to do. You have a pressure in you to destroy the one who loved you. The death was all around. You were hotter to me than the sun that burned me up the day we went to Mount Saint Helens. And if the special death you gave to me is the prize I get to take home solemnly and suffer with the fact that I could never be your friend. I could never come back home again.
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