As months went on, I would lock myself in the bathroom to isolate myself. I would sit and be alone with my thoughts. One day I was in the bathroom and I heard my mother talking about me to my dad. I pressed my ear against the thin walls and I heard my mother calling me a monster. I went silent. My world stopped. My own mother calling me that to my father. And him humming agreement. This shattered my perspective on how my parents viewed me and the trials I was facing.

I went to many therapy appointments, 5 years worth, as well as countless doctors appointments. I’ve seen so many different offices and they all gave me the same bad feeling. Some rare days I woud get a diagnosis and some days the doctors wuld blame it all on stress. This left me confused and lost.

July 4th was the day I chose to open up to my mother about my third diagnosis: bipolar disorder. We were driving home from the grocery store. When I inquired her about it she immediately exploded in rage. She said that theres is no point in all these doctors appointments and therapy sessions, because I was helpless.

Due to all these events, I began to lose myself. By letting other people define who I was, I lost who I was as a person. I cared about how other people viewed me more than my own personal values.

Focus on yourself and your life will blossom. If you spend your whole life thinking about other peoples gardens instead of tending to your own, then your garden will die. If you let go of the hold you have of another garden and start to prioritize yoour own, then it will flourish and be healthy. That's when I stopped looking at other peoples gardens. My mother could have her opinions and I won't let it define who I am. What truly matters is how you value yourself and realizing your worth. Don't let others try to ruin your garden in order to gratify their own. This is your garden. Take care of it. Though, dont’ question my first sentence by agreeing with my mother on saying I was a monster. If you let others define who you are, then thats what you’ll become.

I learned how to water my own garden by learning to say no to things I wasnt comfortable with or things I didnt want. I learned what helps me cope the best. I started prioritizing taking care of my physical, mental, and emotional state. Let yourself flourish. Grow your garden. Don't let pests in.

“Darling, how could you afford this? You know-”

“I'm willing to make any sacrifices for you, my love.”

“I dont even know what to say… but how did you get this?"

“Like I said…listen to my words carefully."

Della suddenly felt an offputting energy entered the room they resided in. She couldn't.

“I just can''t bring myself to imagine that you really did get this for me. Thank you darling.”

“Am I the on you call Jim?”

“What? What do you mean?"

Jim reached towards his hairline and dug his fingers into his skin. His flesh peeled. The face that Della fell in love with was torn, revealing a strange man underneath. Fear set like a cast over Della's body completely paralyzing her. The sound of her lover's flesh being torn sounded like velcro and quiet squelcing. In front of Della stood a man that she did not know. In his arms held the skin, flesh, and face of her husband. The man had killed Jim, removed his flesh and skin and wore it to decieve her. When Della realized this, the comb in her hand fell to the broken tiles under her feet. The sound echoed through the flat.

That cob witnessed the strange man catching up to Della and murdering her. A gruesome death that Della was underserving of. That comb witnessed that man harvesting Della. Started from the skin, getting it snipped from her body and then reseweing it in order to use it as a real human body suit. Then he moved on to the flesh. He stashed it in boxes and put it in the freezer. Thats what he would later use for christmas dinner. That comb witnessed Della's organs being harvested. That comb witnessed the death of the only pure puppy love to exist.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

She has passed. And so did his last girl. From the time I wrote last time and now, he was with two girls at once. They've entered eternal rest. When I found the news, I was glad. I couldn't hold back my giggles. Though the girls whom passed away were my own friends that got with him, it didn't matter to me. They're dead! I was thrilled. It didn't matter how they died, but that they had died. All praise be to fate! For this was meant to happen and I couldn't have been in more agreement. My friends have controversy against these things I said when I told them, saying I have went mad. But what they believe doesn't matter. I am sane, I am beautiful, I am kind. Him and his dead girlfriends were the ones with rotten minds.

Ive been in bed for days. No I havent eaten, no i havent bathed, no i havent drank water. The only thing I have energy for is to blink my eyes and to inhale and exhale, and that in itself is a struggle. My mind has been non-stop running since the day they passed. So I lay in bed and think about it. I think I've been in bed so long that the weeks have blurred together. I can't remember what I did the day before yesterday. I do however remember that I had left the house, I had something in mind that I was passionate about, but other than that my mind is fuzzy. I think I may have been at a river with some company but I'm not sure who would be with me. My friends have left me as well. Everyone leaves me. Just as I had thought. Even the people you think have your back will turn away from you. They must be messed up as well. Why is the world littered with disgusting people? I can't believe I spent time with them. Those imbeciles.

I have fantasies whilst I lay in bed. I imagine the day when my lover walts through my door, picks me up out of bed and sweeps me off my feet. He takes me on a romantic date and sings to me his love. Our love for one another is equally yolked and we are happy together.

I have a hard time accepting who I am. That's one way to introduce myself. I’m not sure why I am the way I am, though it is out of my control. Physically and mentally. I guess it's cause I was constantly told to change things about myself and I've been given reasons to hate certain parts of me.

Lights are bright, so is the crowd's spirit.

Am I the only one in here feeling dim?

The comedian puts on a show, everyone laughs.

Am I the only one that finds everything unappealing?

I sit at this comedy show, feeling hollow.

My mind is a void of nothingness.

No thoughts. No emotions. Just emptiness.

I feel numb to this comedy show...

Take me home, where I can be alone.

Take me home, where I don't have to put on a smile for a mask.

Take me home, let me sink in my void of nothingness.

I am from a front porch littered with plants.

The delicate flower petals, how the air feels after it freshly rained, and a wooden swing draping from a tree.

I am from the Boston fern,

My mother's favorite hydrangea flower, whose petals were forced to bloom too early just as I was.

I am from white elephant Christmas traditions, from strangling bear hugs,

From bobo, bub, and korio.

I'm from a maddend mother and a father who doesn't know the word no,

From protecting my parents from each other and heightened anxiety from their wrath.

I'm from Sunday church mornings and Wednesday youth nights,

From “I'm living in the light of the new day, I won't waste another minute in my own ways.”

In my parent's closet, a heavy shelf upholds countless pictures

Of memories I hold close to me.

As I pick up a polaroid of my 6 year old self,

I press it against my chest,

Wishing I could go back in time and apologize.

I could taste it in the air that you'd be leaving me.

It tastes bittersweet.

I could hear something whispering that you'd be leaving me

Like waves washing onto the shore

But I thought nothing of it

When you told me you'd be leaving me,

You took a hammer right to my glass heart

With your words.

You broke my heart

Then you pick up the shards and put them in your breast pocket

"I'll keep your heart close to mine.”

Time stops.

The outside world is muted,

There’s only me and you in this world we created. But we felt it falling apart.

We cried a sea of tears

Now were oceans apart

And you took my heart with you

And even with our ocean of memories separating us, I’m still waiting for you With open arms

And while I wait, I will write many letters to you,

Praying that I will see you again

I rolled up this letter and tuck it in a glass bottle

I threw it into the ocean

Hoping that it'll reach you.