It hollows me to feel my emptiness be dissolved and swallowed by something more. It scares me to think that an abyss lies asleep in the maze of my mind and will plague my every being.

And so, I cry.

Crying leaves a small fullness, but it is only temporary as I breathe in, out.

Inhale, exhale.

And feel the world collapse onto me and leave a bigger hole.

I can’t figure out how to fix it.

Nothing tastes like colors anymore. It’s all black, white, grey, monotone.

Why do I feel so lonely when I smile, when I talk about my day? DO I talk so much that I’ve forgotten to listen? Have I stopped listening? I remember the reds of passion that once burned in my friend’s words. They spoke so highly of life and of themselves it was almost like I didn't even have to eat. It filled me.

Is it the melancholic down pour of our mysterious future that has wiped my friends of energy and therefore passion? Where are the pastels and cool colors of sadness? Innocence? Are we no longer innocent because we speak with such taboo?  Because we are not ashamed and have no filter? Do we hurt each other intentionally so that we ourselves can feel? Have we become robotic? Have w become so selfish to where we cannot tell what we did was wrong?

At such an age, it feels as though the world is against us. Sometimes, dear friend, they are. It’s not their fault, nor is it yours. People need an outlet; we need to vent our anger and sadness. Society has made the destruction of teenagers a hobby since the dawn of time and you shouldn’t have to suffer for it.

We gossip to keep attention away from ourselves, or in spite of jealousy.

And yet, we look for abnormalities within ourselves to prove to people we are sick, and in need of that “unwanted” attention. Society has injected a confusion into us. We cannot tell the difference between disorders and boredom. We mistake stress for something down the list of disorders and they stuff drugs into us telling us to “stop being emotional little shits”.

Do adults have no emotion? They do… but they forget.

The pain one endures, the crippling, “so help me God I can’t take it anymore” pain a teenager endures is like no other. So, once the storm passes, they shut it out and expect us to do the same.

It’s impossible to do, when all you hear is hatred.

 

I don’t know how many times mothers have told their daughter to shut up, and to stop whining. How many times the teacher preach fairness, but play favorites. How many times the counselors dismiss you because they don’t have time to hear about how you almost committed suicide last night, because you failed at something. How many times my ears have rung and become deaf from the screaming, how my stomach becomes nauseous at the site of something so normal as abuse.

 

How many times must you criticize what I hate and love?

I have the freedom to hate myself, but only if I am privileged enough, which, I am not.

I am allowed to hate myself. You are allowed to hate yourself.

Love yourself.
Don’t think you’re alone; don’t feel disgusted because you think you’re alone. You’re never alone.

Don’t hate yourself because you are ashamed of your mother, your father, your lack of, your obsession of, your anything.

Do not lock yourself away because you think you’re the only one at night who falls asleep to the soothing voices of an imaginary lover as you dream

Don’t feel dirty because you think about those things, act on these things.

You are human.

It happens.

 

I promise you, no matter what, I will always love you for who you are.

What you are.

When you are.

Where you are.

Why you are.

How you are.

 

In my eyes, you are as perfect as perfect can be and as normal as it can stretch.
By existing, you inspire others to do the same, do different, do something.

You will never be forgotten.

And never, ever lose sight of your colors.

 

Xoxo,

 

Your friend