i don't wanna hide anymore.

"I'm so bad. I'm not religious. I don't think I can be. I'm smart. I have a high iq. I'm doing so badly in school. I'm stuck. Trapped."

i love you. i love you. I love you. I LOVE YOU. you are so incredibly worth it. i love you. i love you. i love you. I SUPER HECKING LOVE YOU AND your worth is not defined by your marks in school. i love you. i love you. je t'aime. i love you. *big hugs and pizza* te amo very much. i love you. I Love you. you are not measured by other people's standards but by God's and i promise hardcore that He loves you. even more than all of us put together. i. love. you. so much. AND. YOU. DESERVE. THE WORLD. REGARDLESS OF WHAT YOU'VE DONE YOU ARE WORTHY. you are forgiven. every single party of you is valuable to me. i love you. love, jocee. 


oh no, set me free.

“I'm afraid of everything. I let fear completely paralyze me. I have isolated myself and hurt myself. I want to be the kind of person who laughs and eats dark chocolate and plays card games with a boy. I self harm, and I'm so afraid to tell anyone. But I want to live-I'm so tired of hiding in the dark. I want to cry and feel and change. I hate staying in this sameness. I am aching to live, even if it means getting hurt again.”
Yesterday, you said tomorrow.

You wake up, swing your legs over the bed. You dig your fists into the mattress and breathe in, out in, before getting up. You shower, dress, eat, whatever your normal routine is. You put your phone in your pocket and your wallet in the other. You look at yourself once more in the mirror before you head for the door. You look good. Things are going to be different this time. You walk toward the door and turn the key in the lock. Once it clicks, you grab the knob and turn to open. But it won't open. Nothing happens. You are stuck. You are stuck.

You panic, not sure what to do at this point. You try relocking and unlocking the door again to no avail. You tug on the knob, coaxing it to do its job. You yank at it with everything you've got, because you want this, you've promised yourself—and it's broken. There it is. A warm, round, brassy door knob sitting in the palm of your hand. This seems unreal. You don't know how to respond. The house is starting to creak around you. Suddenly, the walls are groaning and the staircases are bending out of shape. Everything around you is falling apart, yet the place you stand in remains pure. The house deforms itself completely and still manages to keep you inside. There is no indication that there is a way out. The windows, once rectangular and full of light, have melted, the ends kissing each other without intending to let go. There is no way out.

You fold your arms, making yourself smaller with every second. The interior of the house follows your movement, creeping closer to you until neither of you can move any further. Your knees shake until they go numb, and before you know it, you start losing feeling in your fingers. You feel as though your entire body is being wrapped in a cocoon from the bottom up. A vine of thorns coil around your wrists and numb you to the bone. You go unconscious before the cocoon reaches your neck. You knew this would happen.

There is a period that you don't remember. The blackness has engulfed you to where you can't even recognize it anymore. When the images start fading back in, this is what you hear.

So I head out, down a route I think is heading south,
But I'm not good with directions and I hide behind my mouth, (louder)
I'm a pro at imperfections and I'm best friends with my doubt, (Louder)
And now that my mind's out, and now I hear it clear and loud,
I'm thinking, (LOUDER) "Wow, I probably shoulda stayed inside my house."

You open your eyes and focus in on the ceiling.
Yesterday, you said tomorrow.
But you don't get up.

so. i do this thing where i donate my plasma to people with immune system issues. it's really quite easy. it's like getting your blood drawn at the doctor's. and in order to be able to donate, you have to have good iron levels and have to have drunk lots of water. it was great at first. i was helping people, i was making money, things were good. and then i psyched myself out and made it more complicated than it should've been. i made up reasons why i wouldn't be able to keep my iron or up or stay hydrated. i told myself i couldn't keep up with it or do it. i convinced myself that no matter how hard i tried, i wouldn't make the cut and i wouldn't be able to donate. so i stopped. and now i'm in a situation where i need to go back. but instead, i'm sitting at home. talking to people online. sitting on tumblr, watching youtube videos, watching other people interact. i always overanalyze things to where they're not in my favour in anymore. so i don't go, because the possibility that i do something wrong is too great. looks like we're both best friends with our doubt. but now that our mind's out and now we hear it clear and loud i'm thinking wow, i probably should kick doubt out of my house.

-kiss kiss kiss, you're the judge-
{pea ess: it's funny that i reference twenty one pilots so much when i'm actually going to see walk the moon in concert next. oh well.}


i am not as fine as i seem, pardon.

“Hi Jocee. I just want to get this out of me. My friends hate me randomly - middle school is full of drama and one of my close friends just flat out called me a bully. For no reason and she won't explain. I hope she's kidding. I'm just so stressed and neck deep in worries and I don't know what to do. Ohmygosh.”

It: You have reached the psychology bank. How can I help you?
You: Open the personality log...
It: Personality log open. What do you want to know?
You: Define the personalities.
It: Defining personalities: 
  • Choleric: Extroverted, short-tempered, active, controlling, resourceful. The main motivation of cholerics are to win. They want to get things done their way, which is the right way. A weakness includes making snap judgments about others and failing to empathize with others' personal feelings –
You: Next.
  • Sanguine: Extroverted, outgoing, fun-loving, positive, persuasive. The main motivation of sanguines are to have fun. They want to get things done the exciting way. Two weaknesses include messiness and a short attention span –
You: Next.
  • Phlegmatic: Introverted, easy-going –
You: Next.
  • Melancholy: Introverted, analytical, emphatic often private, practical. The main motivation of melancholies are to avoid conflict. They want to get things done the right way. They are often afraid of being wrong. They are sometimes driven by others' perceptions of them. Some weaknesses include cynicism, overthinking, the fear of being alone, the fear of being alone, the fear of being alone, the fear of being alone—paralyzing fear lying awake at night and thinking Oh God Oh God Oh God they hate me, this is it, it's over, it's all my fault, what have I done wrong I have done everything wrong, I won't be able to recover from this..
You: Next –
It: No one loves me I have no friends I can't breathe
You: Next Next Next!!!
It: Scared of my own image, scared of my own immaturity scared I'll die of uncertainty, fear might be the death of me, fear leads to anxiety, don't know what's inside of me, don't –
You: STOP. Shut down. Be quiet. No more.

sometimes to stay alive you gotta kill your mind. but HEY. it's going to be okay. 
it's going to be okay and i love you and if they don't value you as a friend or a person it's time to leave them behind. 
middle school is actually one of the most important periods of a person's life.
and i don't want it to leave you broken
-kiss kiss kiss, skeleton clique-
{pea ess: so. uh. all the twenty one pilots references, aye?}


they moved forward and my heart died.

“There was a day when I used to be proud of myself, of my appearance, of my body. But today is no longer that day. One day, I looked in the mirror and decided to starve myself. I've been starving off and on, carefully, so no one will notice. I, too, promised myself, "You may starve, but don't ever break the skin on your wrist." But one Sunday, out of curiosity, I carefully pressed a blade against my wrist. Now, I cut my hips every night. For a time, I told myself that I wasn't hurt or depressed enough to harm myself in such a manner, but I know now that you have to hate yourself quite a deal to break skin so often. My heart hurts, but I can't stop. I don't even recognize myself anymore. I have people who love me, I have my Lord, but the one who hurts me the most is myself; but I don't know how to stop.” 

ache. by my dear friend rachel and i. 

stomachache. there’s a whale in a part of the ocean that sings its own song and remains alone because no other whale can sing its song. it swims and moans in solitude. tonight, my stomach groans to a similar tune as i turn down another meal. i already ate. it’s not an absolute lie. i ate at some point, god knows when. but my stomach sings and i try to suppress its song.

bodyache. the razor blade is as sharp as a profanity. i press its cold surface against my hipbone and dig in like a miner digging further and further into the ground for a diamond or a golden nugget or something valuable. i used to be valuable, or think of myself that way, the way artists considered even their shoddiest works as valuable. now as the blood runs like red paint, i imagine that i’m painting over a canvas already colored, desperate to make improvements. but i don’t think i could ever be good enough.

heartache. no one tells you how much it hurts because it doesn’t hurt like that. it doesn’t cut, sting or burn. it plants itself deep inside of your sternum and grows to your fingertips. it is acknowledging what is and knowing what could be. it is reaching but never grasping. it is as deep and vast as outer space and i am an astronaut, staring into the cold, black abyss.

i just had the distinct impression that i should post this one next. i love you. He loves you. we all love you
and we're here for you right now, forever, always. 
-kiss kiss kiss, grasses grow-
{pea ess: title via dead hearts by stars}
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