[x]

Does that make me Different?I wear make up. Does that make me fake?
I cry. Does that make me emo?
I have male friends. Does that make me slutty?
I smile a lot. Does that make me weird?
I laugh loud. Does that make me preppy?
I have anxiety. Does that make me a freak?
I have Bipolar Disorder. Does that make me abnormal?
I respect people. I change for me, and only me. I have a past, but I know I have a future.
Does that make me different?
Maybe.
But at least it makes me
Me.

RelapseIt’s like counting
Saturn’s rings,
hash marks
along your limbs -
remembering a time
when

‘just one more’

made you feel better.

- & you’re sitting there
wondering why
Draco, stuck in limbo
always looks like he’s

falling.

FrostbiteNumbness
I can’t feel my toes and at first I think
It’s just my toes.
I can cover them up.
I can warm them.

It spreads, like fire,
Like ice.
I glance away for a second, it seems, and my feet are cold
Pat –pat
That’s funny, I didn’t feel that
Maybe I’ll cover them up too
I’ll warm them up.

I’ll take a nap
Maybe a short rest will make it all better, warm them
Up…
What’s that? How long has it been?
My legs… are you still mine..
Why has my breath left me, short?
Has everything but deserted me?

What about you, are you still here?
Are you still with me?
Hello?
And before I can say goodbye, I think my thoughts are leaving me too –

Sleeping Beautyshe’s in love with a character who
never existed but in the labyrinth of her head:
a patchwork composition of beautiful, lengthy words
she’d heard in her catatonic state; coma living
day in and day out, reliant on the salvation
of a man made of foreign wishing
and imperfection and necessity – an ignorance
of the less than ideal perception of self she’d
come to fear, absention stained romantic to the point
where daydreams were a standard for survival

(real living is for the purposeful of heart,
he loves her in her sleep)

UneditedWe cry.
We scream.
We fight for our dream.

We scream.
We cry.
We're just waiting to die.

The same emotions
with a different drive.
Sometimes dead, sometimes alive.

The same in one way,
different in another
brother and sister, sister and brother.

So close in feeling,
so different in the end.
Falling apart, or finally on the mend?

Which am I?
Will I ever know?
Fighting to stay or ready to go?

Maybe I'm both,
in some impossible way.
Emotions oddly mixed everyday.

Wouldn't surprise.
I'm such a freak.
Excuse me, I laugh, I should call it "unique"

WorthlessWorthless,
the name that cuts like a knife,
Me,
it's all that you see inside,
My heart,
is breaking with every breath I take
The lies,
the only thing I can't seem to face.

Battle in my MindEat.
Don't eat.
Take it easy.
Work out until you pass out.
Get help.Tell someone.
Keep it a secret. It's only for you and me.
You're perfect.
You're worthless.
You're beautiful.
You're disgusting.
Why won't you listen?
They don't understand.
Let me help you.
You don't understand.
Show me.
No!
I love you..

In The Daylight

In The Daylight

A false downfall
An unexpected revival

Sunset to moonset
Shining through darkness

Life...redefined
Death...redesigned

In the valley of promises- I will fear no end
On the brink of weakness- I will ascend
-
Roads of the toughest
Paths of the darkest

I conditioned my flawed limits
So fearful memories won't be paralytic

I had to raise my own spirit
Strength and endurance become so vivid

A chance for change / A moment of fate
A time to make peace / A brief feeling of creed
A sealing of my slate / A silencing of my mistakes
A secret ready to be freed / A chain soon-to-be incomplete

Pain and peace are infinite
Judge the wrat

Happily AloneHonesty,
She does not have,
Personalities,
She has many of them.

A million shields,
a million personalities,
She's always changing,
to fit every person around her.

If one were to ask why,
she would answer with,
I will never reveal my weaknesses,
because she's evil.

She hates everyone,
stupider than her is barely tolerable,
smarter than her is too scary,
She hates it all.

She leaves the world behind,
To one she has dreamt of,
No color,
nobody else.

Then,
she will smile,
why,
because she is truly happy alone.

She is not evil,
She does not hate you,
She is not dishonest,
She simply wants to be alone.

wallflower clippingsthere's scar tissue in her throat,
swollen around the words she never said;
dark rings around her eyes
like planets unremembered, and
a staleness to her touch,
the crystalline Dead Sea.

she's living like a story
that's already been told
"if no one loved you
would you mean anything at all?"

in that moment,
we forget to exist.

We are the King and Queen of Broken DreamsStanding still in a mine field, staring at all we have left.
We were so young, we didn’t stop to think.
Now we’re in a car crash, teetering on the brink.
If you were to leave me now, I don’t know what I’d do.

It was a whirl wind romance,
A light when all was black, a spark of something when all was bleak.
You swept me off my feet and made me feel brand new.
I thought we could live forever and I’m certain you did to.

We built a house without foundations
And now we’re falling down,
Everything’s crumbling around us, time slipping through out fingertips.
People used to walk past us but they were to drunk to see,
That our lives are coming apart around us, there is no light as far as we can see.

There was no fire to start with,
Just two broken things, the world had left behind.
The casualties of other people’s dreams of power, money and control,
Spat out onto the curb to rot away and die.
We never stood a chance or so

Falling off the EdgeDo you know what it feels like?
To nearly fall off the edge,
but not quite...
just so that you're dangling;
clinging for your worthless life
lest it fall into the sea of loneliness.
Your callused, pink fingers turning
to a shade of purplish-red of pain
as it does it best to hold on.

Splash.

In the sea of loneliness,
everything is crisp, translucent.
There is nothing around you,
you are alone...
unlike other people,
you have no one
clamouring to save you;
you have no one
diving in to get you out.

There is no point
screaming for help,
you will only waste
the little time and air you have left.
You only have the darkness
of the sea envelop

Honesty Written

from the

heart.

No eraser.

Her SideTomorrow she'll be gone,
but what can you say?
Nothing can help her.
The pain won't go away.

But she would've stopped,
you could've said no.
That's what she wanted,
someone to say don't go.

That someone wanted her,
or at least would try.
That someone would grieve
if she were to die.

But you just stared,
nodding your head,
and she realized the truth
with a feeling of dread.

No one wanted her.
No one cared.
Not even you,
with the the love you shared.

So she said good-bye,
and you watched her leave.
She may have had the rope,
but now you can't breathe.

PerfectEver had the feeling where you can't stop looking at a picture?
Your gorgeous face makes me smile
Go weak at the knees
Makes me giggle like a little girl

Those morning texts
All day conversations
Random silly things like that
Make me smile

I see the led light flash the colours I've set for when I get a message from you
My heart flutters
My cheeks flush
I go deaf to the world when I'm reading a message from you

If your down
I'm always there for you
I know you don't want to worry me
I know you want me to smile
But I'm always here for you
No matter how you feel
I'd prefer to help
Than for you to be down

Your gorgeous eyes
Are mesmerising
You

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consequences

by ~Chibi-Shuriken, May 28, 2012, 9:17:59 PM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

There are consequences

to cheating Death

(as I have done).

He will tax you for

each day you live:

"A meager fee, for another

chance at Life!"

he promises;

yet over the years he

will bankrupt you.

Never among the living

he treats you as his waif;

mind numb with lethargy,

joints rotten with inflammation,

he sings your requiem

to remind you

of his Second Coming.

Half-dead, Humans blame

you for your condition

when all you wanted

was to be one of them,

just a little longer.

consequencesby ~Chibi-Shuriken

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

Well, I really wanted to submit something, but I have no pictures of my paintings at the moment and it's midnight up here. And everything I've drawn over the past couple months is still in the process of being colored on my computer.

So I started looking through my old poetry - I've actually got a fair bit, and some of it's not half bad - and I came across this. Sorry to post something so morbid, but man, I remember the day I wrote this like it was yesterday.

We'd just read Yeats' The Second Coming in my English class, and it was my senior year, if memory serves. Anyway, I'd been having happy-fun-times with my disease, and my mom was insisting that we wake up early one morning on a weekend and go skiing. I wanted nothing more than to rest, since I really wasn't feeling the best and didn't have an entire day to devote to skiing while still managing my classwork effectively. I told this to my mom, complaining quite a bit about how crummy I felt. And this isn't just stuffy-nose crummy; this was joint-pain-so-bad-I-had-to-keep-myself-from-crying-in-Anatomy-class kind of crummy.

But, if you've never experienced it, living with a person with an autoimmune disease gets tiring. I admit that my family probably got pretty tired of me, being half-alive and all most of the time. And after a while, the distinction between my disease and my self got blurred in their minds. It always stayed separate in mine; I was not the burden that weighed on my body. But it's harder to keep that separated when you are the family only dealing with that person's behaviors, which are often incomprehensible to a healthy person. And, over time, the family gets mad at the disease, and some of that anger gets directed at the person, who in their mind IS the disease.

It's understandable to me, but boy, does that hurt. So it was that I woke up at 6AM on a Saturday, feeling like hell warmed over, and just blurting this all out on the paper before I started packing for a day at the mountain.

Looking back on this is interesting, because I no longer have that disease, and my family can now see me as the person that I always saw myself as. There's no anger anymore, and I no longer feel like I made a trade with Death for every day I woke up alive.

Sorry for the dreadfully long description.

I guess this piece written in sheer anger just means a lot more to me now than I'd expected it ever might.

~lucas-irineu May 29, 2012 Student General Artist

This is the first and last poem (unless you write another one which is as great as this) that I have ever added to my favs on dA.

It's wonderfully, really, and so is the description.

I used to write poetry... but I doubt I will ever post any on dA. There must be some lying around on my blog though.

And I know how hard it is to be with someone who is sick with something that is not going to go away.

I also know that it is much harder to lose them than to take care of them. :c

~Loaym May 28, 2012 Student General Artist

I admit with my brother it's sometimes kind of hard to tell what's related to the disease and what isn't. Because really, he's always been whiny, he's always overreacted to every little injury or stepping stone, and he's always made every excuse he possibly can, exaggerating things or outright lying about them. Heck, he'll run around with his friends all day and be perfectly fine; and then the second he's supposed to do something he doesn't want to do, like karate class or Cub Scouts, he feels just that terrible and refuses to go.

Anyway, this was an interesting read. In your case, I am with you completely. Honestly, you've never seemed "half-alive" to me at all, I honestly can't remember you being anything but cheerful and full of energy, and I'm sorry that you had to go through that D:

As for my brother, well... it almost made me want to see his side of things, but I'm really not sure. Personality-wise, he's just... extremely lazy, and I'm not really sure how much of it has anything to do with the disease at all.

~VannVidd May 28, 2012 Student Traditional Artist

I'm sorry

, you're such a good daughter. And not to pick sides, but I'm completely picking yours. It was a bit insensitive of your mother to keep dragging you to things when you felt like crap, glad it's over now, and if you want to feel a bit outraged, I don't think anyone will blame you.

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consequencesby ~Chibi-Shuriken

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