The Sound of my Voice

Trust- Age 26

I Died

Merissa-Age 15
I died a thousand times before they buried me. Most of the time those deaths were unnoticed. A little piece of me would break away, lie on the ground, rot. Sometimes I would try to pick it up and just keep going. But, most of the time I would just let it be. I didn't need it any more anyway. I mean, who would it belong to if it didn't belong to me.
My deaths were as meaningless as my life, so what does it matter now. Pick yourself up, keep going. No one is going to save you so you need to save yourself. An endless echo of advice, but now who will listen?
Close it. Let the darkness in. I won't be there to see it.
I died a long time ago.

Listen

Lucinda-Age 45
For some people the only way they can get their feelings out is to write. In a world where we all seem to listen to respond it is sometimes hard for the silent to be heard. Although the voices on this page can sometimes be raw and painful it is my belief that they need to be heard.
How many of you are willing to take the time to just listen? I mean really listen? What will you hear if you take the time to listen another person’s story? What secrets will you discover? About them? About you?
How many of you need a person who will listen to you? It’s so hard in this world to find the one who will truly hear our stories. Even I , who values listening, find myself wanting to stop the hemorrhaging of feeling and offer solace in a kind word or a well-meaning snippet of advice. I think it’s my job to help those who suffer, but I wonder do I really have anything left to offer.

He's Coming Back

Trust= Age 26
He’s coming back
Every day I see him
I fight
But he is always coming back
I feel him pressing into me
Controlling my actions
My thoughts
My body
My pain
My orgasm
He comes back to me in my dreams
He is as tender as a lover
As he caresses my hair and forces me to the bed
He comes back in my waking moments at odd moments of the day
When I sit to eat and I remember the crush of his lips on mine
His teeth biting until I bleed
He is coming back
Every day I know he is coming back
And I remember his hands
Caressing, pinching, binding, punching
And I try to fight him
Digging my fingers into my arms
Peeling the feel of his hands away
Showers don't cleanse him away
Even when I scrub for hours
Inside and out
Hes coming back
And I can't stop him

30 Days

Jordan- Age 22
30 days
That’s all they gave me
What the Hell am I supposed to do with 30 days?
Get my head together?
My life?
My relationships?
I can't do anything in 30 days
I need a lifetime
I need 30 lifetimes
I need 3 minutes just to catch my breath
I can hold my breath for 3 minutes
I tried for longer but I ran out of time
30 days
That’s all I have
I can't do anything in 30 days

Forget

Lavendar-Age 87
I forget
All the time
I forget to take my medicine
I forget if I have turned off the oven
Or even if I have an oven
I forget to go to the bathroom
I want to remember the faces of my children
But they never come to see me
So I forget what they look like now
And remember them only as they were when they were small
Sometimes I forget my husband is dead
And so I get up to fix him dinner
But I forget I don't live at home any more
And I no longer have a kitchen
So I wander around the hallways
Because I forget how to get back to my room
I forget I need to put on clothes
And so they take me back to my room
And they tie me to my bed
I forget how I get the bruises
Or how long they take to fade away
I want to remember when I was young
And photographers took pictures of me
And put me in magazines
To sell the things everyone seems to need
But no one wants to take my pictures
Even if I forget how many times I’ve freshened up my lipstick
I forget exactly how much life I have lived
So I try to remember the things I did
But I have done so many things
I forget I'm still alive
And have more things left to do
Everyone I remember are dead
And I forget the people who talk to me
Are not the friends I used to play with when I was young
I forget when my family is supposed to visit
So I don't miss them when they don't show up
And I forget if it is worse to forget
Or to be the forgotten

Want

Anonymous
I want to stand at the wall and scream
Until everyone hears my words
I want to yell into the void
Until my voice echoes into the universe
I want to cry into the wind
Until the clouds give me back my tears
I want to run into the darkness
Until the light reflects off my soul
I want to pound on the door
Until my hands are as cracked and broken as the world
I want to claw away the cobwebs
Until the pain has faded away
I want
I want
I want
I want it to be gone
I need it all to begin again
As if it never was
Clean, fresh, new
It will never be the same
It is time to accept, learn and go on
There is no want
There is only need

Crazy

Marissa- Age 15
I was told people who are crazy are lucky because they don't realize they are crazy. Yeah, I don't think so. I've seen crazy. I've been crazy and let me tell you, I know exactly how fucked up I really am. I guess I could blame my parents, aren't they the ones who got together, decided to make me and then screw me over. Or, I could blame video games. That's all the rage right now. Our kids are violent ‘cause they spend too much time playing violent video games. Well, there's only two problems with that idea: 1. I don't play video games, 2. I'm not violent. Or I guess I should say I'm usually not violent. That girl, yeah, she deserved what she got. As a last ditch effort I guess I could blame society. Society always seems to put all these unrealistic expectations on me. You're not skinny enough. Your hair isn’t long enough or blonde enough. You don't wear the right clothes. You need this phone. You need to date this boy. Don’t date that boy. You're such a slut.
No, society isn't the problem. I'm the problem. I’ve always been the problem.
I've never wanted to hurt anyone, not even myself. I mean, pain isn't the answer, is it?
Why am I even asking you? You have no idea what it’s like to be a teenager. Everyone tells you to grow up, but they don't see I already have. I know things. I’ve done things.
I look like a woman. I mean I have a woman’s body, but I don't know what it means to be something more than a child.
Yeah, I’m not crazy, I’m just lucky.

Words

Lucinda- age 45
Words speak
So quiet in my mind
Hope
Loss
Peace
War
Love
Hate
They want to be heard
They cry out to be heard
No longer quiet
They are heard

The Child

Anonymous: Age Unknown
Everything was done with deliberate precision.  
Not one move was wasted.  
Every word was spoken with purpose.  
He seemed slow, but his words showed a deeper intelligence.

My Life

Bill: Age 35
I give up I give up. I Give up.

There's no point any more. No money

No job

Kids hate me. 

My son hates me

I hurt all the time

I'm in pain from my head to my feet

I'm a horrible person

I'm tired all the time

My business ideas fail no matter how hard I try

I suck at my job

I'm a talentless idiot

I have no purpose in life

I'm worthless

I give up

Why try

Why was I even created

I'm done