Finished draft of my Poems

You open up your drawer to make yourself bleed

And then hide it under wristbands so no one can see

You show a cut here and there just to show that you're scared

But people think it's just a papercut, they think it's just an accident

But you know that it's your fears that you can't show through simple tears

Ya, Your caught underwater and you're struggling to breathe

But you just keep sinking deeper and deeper into your blood

But what's blood and what's tears, just ways to cover up your fears?

You're just one big mess trying to hide under your dress

Or better yet your fears, that trigger the tears

A child takes their life almost every day

Open up their facebook page to see "I hate you 'cause your gay"

Hey kid your life is worth it, just see the light through the tunnel

It's okay to make a puddle when your eyes become rainclouds

Because the puddles will dry, don't be ashamed when you cry

Just know you're hurting more than yourself when you die

Your life is yours, you owe nothing to no one

Just be yourself and your haters wont mind

It's gonna hurt when you fall from Heaven, becuase death can wait

No one lives forever but life can be great

Live, love, laugh may not always be true

But it sure as hell is better than cry, hate, die

I like the sound of his voice but I'm afraid I don't agree

The good shouldn't die young

They should make history

Don’t let your life be a mystery

Take a step out of the darkness

Just because some people are heartless

Doesn’t mean that you should be in fright

Take a step into the light

And know that it gets better

Eric Walters response

Part 1

Sketches- This book is about a girl who runs away from home and is living on the streets of downtown Toronto. She joins a drop-in art centre for homeless teens.

Black and White- I think the message Eric Walters is trying to convey is that we shouldn't judge people based on the colour of their skin because in the end we're all the same and should all be friends.

Safe as Houses- Safe as Houses is about a hurricane that hits while Elizabeth is babysitting and she must work out her problems with the children to keep them all safe.

Part 2

Some days you just sit there, as if there's no one with the heart to care. Teenage angst: you'll dye your hair black, blast screamo from a repeating track, lay on the floor, lock the door. Sometimes you want attention and sometimes you just want to erase the numb. It's like this; anxiety becomes numb, numb becomes pain, pain becomes adrenaline and and adrenaline becomes calm. It's your little cycle of angst. We all know the feeling. Here's my story.

I'd go to school and come home day after day. It seemed as if I wasn't getting noticed and I needed to do something about it, I needed to do something quick. I wore odd clothing but it only made me seem like a bigger dork. I tried to socialize with everyone but it only made me seem desperate. I had so much bundled up inside of me, so much I wanted to express.

One day I was having one of my usual mood swings, the type where I feel nothing, only numbness. I needed to be able to physically feel something, just to reassure myself that it would end soon. I could scream but then my parents might hear and come to see what was wrong. I opened up my drawer to try to find something to distract myself with. Then under a bra and some kleenex covered in lipstick I saw my distraction, my de-number. It was one of those compass things that come in geometry sets. They tell you to get one every year but you rarely ever use them. I pulled it's sharp side to my wrist, it was cold against my skin. Slowly, I closed my eyes and pulled it across my arm. The numbness quickly left my body and the adrenaline from the cut put me back in my usual state. I tucked the compass back in the drawer and covered my wrist with a checkered band.

In the days, weeks, and months that followed I would repeat this routine with whatever sharp objects I could find. I had heard of cutting before on TV, in books I read, from friends, but I never thought that I was a cutter. The first few times that I cut myself it was just a way to get noticed, just a simple cry for help. Then it became addictive. Eventually I realized that it wasn't the cutting itself that I was addicted to, it was the attention. I was addicted to the attention I got when I cut myself. I liked the fact that people felt sorry for me; it was a sense of recognition.

Once I finally convinced myself that I was cutting myself and that it wasn't healthy I brought up the nerve to seek help. Thanks to a wonderful teacher, my parents and writing, I am now cut-free! I would do anything to go back and tell myself not to do it but in a way it made me a stronger person. Now I'm more happy and confident than ever before. I didn't realize it at the time but I--just like everyone else--always had the potential to be happy confident and noticed. I was just so wrapped up in wanting to be liked.