kajsa ㅇㅅㅇ

To [Realname]-- @The Halcyon Girl

April 25, 2023

To my best fried:

I’m sorry.

I’m so sorry 

For being the way that I am, for making you feel like it’s all your fault.

I’m sorry for writing those stupid words on the stupid page

I’m sorry for asking you to join us 

You’d be happy otherwise

without me

without them

without yay

without…

I’m sorry 

I’m sorry for joining the weavers

I’m sorry for separating C and E

I’m sorry for creating this rift

I’m sorry for being this way

I’m sorry for confiding

I’m sorry for dragging you down

I’m sorry for making you sad.

–

I’m sorry for meeting you.

Because if I hadn’t,

You wouldn’t be sad.

And I’m sorry.

Scissors

April 24, 2023

Somebody let me

Cut myself off

From everyone else

From everything else

From 

You.

Give me the scissors

To shred these bonds

That tie me to everyone

That tie me to everything 

That tie me

To you. 

Give me the power 

I need

To say goodbye

It’s for my own good. 

For everyone’s good. 

For your good. 

Give me the scissors.

What About Me?

April 24, 2023

Do you care for him more than you care about me?

I’ve known you longer, so shouldn’t I be the one you come to, not push away?

Lonely.

He’s wonderful and all, but… what about me?

I miss you.

You can’t see the way it eats me up inside,

Not anymore, but it drives me insane, so crazy I can’t even cry about it.

Numb.

When did I make you feel like you have to hide?

I miss you.

Am I selfish to be acting this way?

Has my pride and the way I care about myself overridden the way I care about you?

Stupid.

I don’t deserve to be selfish.

I. Miss. You.

You long for his words and he longs for your presence

But that leaves inside me an empty resonance

And I wish you would fill it by even saying hello

But instead, I’m invisible, watching in pain as you go

It seems you’re all in for him and all out for me

And it doesn’t feel fair, but I guess that must be…

I’m forgetting what it was like before.

Have you forgotten entirely about me, about us, about before them?

Lonely.

I can promise you this hurts me more than I let on.

I miss you.

I miss you so much…

I need you. 

It’s all I can do not to cry, not to scream, not to burst and yell at him for taking you away, yell at you for letting him.

What happened?

What about us?

What 

About

Me?

How Come? (Anymore)

April 24, 2023

How come you laugh while I sit and I wait

How come you smile while I cry and I wait

How come you leave while I stay and I wait

How come

                you don’t

                                        love me

anymore?

Opinion

April 24, 2023

It’s funny. 

You say

“Believe me when I say I think–”

Well, 

opinion isn’t 

Fact.

i’m… sad?

April 24, 2023

i’m sad. 

i’m so sad.

why?

couldn’t tell you.

why can’t i tell you?

because i don’t know.

and don’t ask me again 

because

right now, 

i’m 

just 

sad. 

Scissors

April 24, 2023

Somebody let me

Cut myself off

From everyone else

From everything else

From 

You.

35

It’s a new day.

That means it’s a fresh start— or so they say.

But what about that overdue project that marks my worth down by thirty-five points?

What about the fact that I’m behind on my homework and still can’t solve for x in the world’s unforgiving equations?

Every single day I come here, thirty five hours a week, 35 weeks a year, and I give it everything I have.

All I’ve got left is a hard line where a smile used to be, an uneven heartbeat broken to the school’s pleasure, and a fifteen pound bag of burdens because my dark green locker is still broken and nobody cares to fix it. 

It’s just one kid. She’ll be fine.

Every single day I come here and take notes until my wrists groan, until my fingers bruise. I listen until my head aches and I can hardly think straight. 

Every single day I come here and see thirty-five angry red slashes on her arms and legs–and today, three are fresh. It startles me and instills a fear I’ve never felt before. What has changed my hate into worry? Am I more human than I thought? 

Or am I less?

I should help her, but in a way that’s quiet and won’t draw any attention. I’ll have to do it later, because every day I come here hoping it will be better, hoping against hope against hope that something has changed. 

Every day I kindle that hope just so it can be drowned again. 

They control everything. Their word is final, and you’d best not argue. 

Don’t make noise.

Don’t make a mess.

Don’t turn in your green sheet late.

Oh, and if you do?

Thirty-five extra minutes tacked onto the back of eight bloody hours.

They summarize my day on a singular slip of bright white paper, strip away my choices until the only one I have left is what to put on my lunch tray. 

Will I eat it? 

Probably not, because I’ve only got thirty-five minutes to make as many choices as I possibly can before I’m shoved back into the mold. 

I can’t waste a precious minute feeding a body and mind that aren’t mine to control.

I wait for that thirty-five minute lunch break every day, every eight hour day of sitting in a chair and being talked at, waiting for those four hollow, monotonous tones to tell us we’re free to go home. 

I wait for those thirty-five minutes so I can be free from the chains that bind me to somebody else’s agenda. 

And every day I hope that maybe that thirty-five minutes can stretch into forty. I hope that maybe something, anything, will change.

It turns out that’s impossible, because there are now thirty slashes on her wrist and five deep slashes in my heart. 

Thirty-five is the number that haunts me every single day. 

It must be the number of Hell. 

I am from wind and its tales of fjords and icy seas, 

from the extreme hot and cold that occasionally meet for tea and become something quite pleasant.

I am from the chimes that sing along with the birds,

adding their melody to the beautiful cacophony of spring.

I am from books that I have read,

from hearing Mom’s voice at 8:00 sharp that it is time for read-aloud.

I am from bursting with excitement when Dad steps in through the door

and dropping whatever I am doing to envelop him in the tightest hug possible.

I am from pencils and crayons

melted wax and puzzle presses

from glow in the dark liquids in little plastic tubes

from finger paint and popsicles and bubble baths.

I am from Lines,

from black dresses with glittering, shimmering skyline sequins

from five victories back to back 

and nothing yet to tarnish our fame.

I am from the pictures on my wall,

the ones I drew and put up to bring out the yellow curtains on the window that’s always open in the spring.

I am from the keyboard set up near the far wall, the one with light and bouncy keys

that adds an artificial click to a once natural, classical melody.

I am from the pink hair iron in my bathroom, 

from the mosaic hairbrush that keeps my hair soft.

I am from the bright blue sky that spills in to meet me each morning,

from “I am worthy” stuck dazzlingly upon the mirror.

I am from strong bark

From more branches than most and even more leaves

From roots that stretch toward the core of the earth

And could never be chopped down.

"It sucks to have an ex best friend
You hurt me worse than any break up did
I hear your name and I'm 13 again
Cryin' in my bed
Thinkin' how did I get here again?"

"So to my ex-best friend
I thought I'd know til the end
Sorry I know things aren't going as we planned
To my once ride or die
The one who always knew me right
We would swear it'd always end up you and I
We really messed up this time"

"Oh oh
Now you don't know me at all
You left without warning
Always thought that it'd be love
That was gonna mess me up
Didn't think it'd hurt this much
When best friends break up

Y'all ever spiral uncontrollably until you feel like you're in Hell and it can't get any worse? That... happened to me today.

Isn't it weird how anxiety whispers just right, pounds on your chinks, makes you feel like absolute crap? It knows right where to hit you.

You're a target, and it's got all your vital spots memorized. It doesn't even have to aim, just shoots and always hits the mark.

And no matter what you do, you can't unstick yourself from the thorns it throws you in--until someone else comes through the thorns to get you.

But you don't want to cause them that brambly pain, that hot, prickling sensation that brings blood to meet oxygen and tears to flow.

You don't want that for them, because you love them too much to hurt them as bad as you hurt.

In fact, you'd rather keep hurting forever than cause them a little pain for just long enough for them to get you. 

You'd rather stay in Hell all by yourself than let them experience it for long enough to drag you out. 

And all the while, you're still not good enough, it taunts. No matter what you do. They don't love you. Why would they love you? You're not even lovable. You're clingy. Hopeless. Overbearing. 

She didn't talk to you today because you're incompetent. Nobody. Loves. You.

And this is what it tells me. Maybe it's why I push my mom away. Maybe it's why I'm jealous of the more likable people. Maybe it's why I hate the girl that shares my name so much, even after she told me I sing like an angel.

Who does that?

Only the unlovable. 

skin - acoustic by Jessica Baio

Emergency Contact by Haley Joelle

Just Fine by Em Beihold

Not Who We Were by Em Beihold

Can't Wait to Be Pretty by Cate

broke & lonely by Alexa Cappelli 

Remember That Night? by Sara Kays

Devil by Sophie Pecora

Fingers Crossed by Lauren Spencer Smith

Flowers by Lauren Spencer Smith

Life was happy, even bright
Until you came along
Took our homes and took our pride
Burned our Torah scrolls
You killed me at fifteen but 
Ended my life three years before
But as long as you're remembered,
So will I be
As a girl who was murdered
At Hitler's mercy--of which there is none
So my swan song is this:
Let my legacy shine while yours tarnishes
I may be broken, but you are shattered
Because I am stronger than you ever were.

Take away my mother
Take me and my brother
Prod us with needles
Necklace of rope
Strangle our hope
Strip us to the bone
But you will not win
We will not give in
If it's good versus evil,
We already know who prevails
If you win this battle, 
You won't win the next.
And if they're my very last words,
I'll promise you that.