Mental Illness Isn't a Pretty ThingMental Illness isn't a fashion statement.More Like This
Yet, some people are treating it.
Like cuts are a new clothes line or fashion trend.
Look at me, I am so edgy I cut into my own skin.
Over and over again.
I’ve had an old friend come up to me,
To show me the angry marks on their skin.
They laugh and say,
‘I’ve got so much anxiety!’
But if you are so stressed,
Why are you laughing?
Like it’s nothing.
Anxiety isn’t funny.
They brag about ways they’ve tried to off themselves.
Saying they keep special pills,
On the shelves on their dressers.
But never actually touch them.
They say they’ve almost put bleach to their lips.
They laugh about how they’re so anorexic you can see the pelvic bones
In their hips.
And the people who actually are sick.
That need to be taken seriously.
Sit back and watch in confusion.
As these kids go around spreading their messed up illusions.
We’re asking ourselves,
When did cuts become shiny, b
to the woman who drowned herself in the bathtub.i.More Like This
to the woman who drowned herself in the bathtub:
in the magazine I own that published your story,
they blurred out the crime scene photographs,
erasing your face and
the full curves of your breasts.
some part of me wonders
if you would have wanted this,
or if you would have liked for
the public to see you in your final moments,
half-soaked in grey-looking water,
your hair in strings, glued to the porcelain,
eyes closed and mouth gaping,
no breath stirring, no bubbles rising.
sometimes when I look
into the depths of my bathroom sink,
I hear your voice
(or what I imagine it to be--
after all, we never met).
you sit on the edge of the toilet seat,
and chat to me about the weather.
I would give anything to hear your real, living voice,
to ask you what you were thinking
as you lowered yourself
into the tub, queen of the tendrils of steam,
and let your lungs deflate like old birthday balloons.
on the news they say that your autopsy
revealed three quarters
of a bottle o
Sexism - a story untoldI. A mother scorns her infant boy forMore Like This
wearing a dress; the fresh print of a
hand mark glows on his cheek.
Meanwhile, his sister plays in shorts
II. Lunchtime and a child, no more than
twelve, hurries home early. Tears
smudge the sleeves of his favourite
shirt as he tries to muffle his sobs.
A girl hit him in the face, but boys must
III. Accused of sexual harassment, a
young man apologizes for complimenting
a lady at the bar. Somewhere in the
crowd, a girl pinches a stranger's bum
whilst her friends screech like hyenas.
She was only mildly flirting with him,
IV. In a restaurant, a woman insists her
date pays the bill. The following day,
he's accused of earning too much and
spending too little.
V. A man is pinned against the wall and
forced into sex. Even though he turns
away, he must enjoy it because he's
just a bloke. Women can't rape men - it
doesn't work like that.
VI. Somewhere in this world, a boy
holds the door open for his crush, a
He only dates broken girls.I will destroy you. I willMore Like This
make you love me
without even trying;
you’ll love the scabs
on my knees, the bruises
under my eyes, my
singed hair. You will love
the rush of holding
my hand as we cross
the bridge; you’ll feel
like a hero each time
I don’t jump. You will buy
me chocolates, the most
expensive, to guilt me
into eating. You will buy
me seeds instead of flowers,
to give me a reason to
get up in the morning. You
will make me dependent,
even as I feed your white
knight complex. I will destroy
myself, and so you,
and you will know why storms are named after people.