but have you?




Last night, at 4am, as I disassociated in my friend David’s bedroom,

I pictured myself curled up in a little tiny ball,

legs tucked in, arms hugging the circumference of my body.

I’m at the beach, the sun is hiding behind a thick layer of clouds,

and as the waves hit my toes, my skin dissipates and I am reduced to a pile of bones.

I am so happy because I am no longer taking up so much space in this cluttered planet.


I think skeletons are beautiful and when I see my collar bone sticking out from the lining of my t-shirt I am reminded that I am human.

Disassociating is fun when you get to choose when it happens.

Dissociating is uncomfortable when it happens at a party in the middle of a conversation with a good looking stranger, or in the midst of doing my grocery shopping or my laundry.




to binge to purge to shoot (veins)

that feeling when you love someone so much and you shower them with all you affection because you want to show them that the world isn’t such a bad place, but they can’t reciprocate cause they are plagued with mental illness that leaves them numb.

I have been exhausting every piece of myself to give back to my friends who are struggling with substance abuse issues, mental health issues, and just plain being a human being issues, I have forgotten about myself. Turns out I’m still very much vulnerable to heroin addiction, bulimia, and my BPD is alive and well.

It happened again, this cyclical cycle of shutting down because I’ve exhausted every part of myself. Now, I know I’m gonna have to deal with this wave of sadness and anxiety and mania that’s hovering above me eventually, but I am too comfortable walking through life like a ghost on auto pilot. I’m here, but I’m not present.

To let go

bitter coating of your serpents tongue

you lie through your teeth

with your faithless speech

i know it is fear that rules the corners of your heart
i gladly let you take a chunk of my flesh

to mold into your liking

during manic episodes, when sleep escapes me,

i watch you at night, in awe

i wish you could see yourself how i see you

there is nothing quite like riding this man made burning ship

with you, as my captain, blind

Ode to 23

Hungover bodies spilled side by side dehydration gets to you first,

shoes in hand, you walk out the door, quiet.

Left over pint of cheap gin in your pocket, set aside for the afternoon.

Joke’s on you, I’m still drunk and I haven’t slept in three days.


As the daylight stretches thin

I trade sorrow for monotonous routine.

I welcome long nights and slurred speech with opened arms.

Joke’s on me cause booze don’t cut it no more.


I’ve been wearing long sleeves since September

for practicality, mainly.

I wonder if anyone notices how many times

I’ve excused myself to cry in the bathroom at parties…

I turn you on your side when we sleep cause I love you, sure,

but mostly cause it’s easier to go through your pockets this way.

I don’t care,

I don’t want to think about it.


I miss I miss I miss.

The feel the feel the feel,

of me when I was warm and


Why do I even have a calendar?

Pages don’t turn themselves.


Time does funny things to people like us,

hours run around in circles



Begin again right where we left off.


Lucid dreams with your orange shirt so vivid.

Cautious living,

Joke’s on me, I’m in love again.

But we don’t say that to each other anymore.

It’s better this way,

It is better to ride out the limbo of uncertainty,

until one of  us falls off.

The edge of the earth never looked so promising.


lover i love you

why do I have this feeling?

that all you’ll leave behind

is a rolled up $5 bill

laying on my wooden floor,

next to empty drug bags.

I know I should say goodbye

but your pale eyelids

and the mountains of your shoulders

have me stuck in bed

next to you, stomach acid burning my throat,

rib cage exposed, back soft and unprepared,

committed to the danger we created.



Hello everyone, my name is Jean and I’m an addict.


i feel pretty
I feel beautiful in this photo. ❤

I got fucking vodka, make out with my girlfriend in front of the guy I’m seeing (and everyone) drunk last night. He wasn’t too pleased, which makes sense since were supposed to be not seeing other people. NEWSFLASH AMERICA: I cannot drink in moderation. I thought I could, I did for about 2 weeks, but last night, I got fucking white girl wasted. Sure, I’m not shooting heroin anymore, but it’s a slippery slope for me. I almost picked up k too. Fuck dude, I love k, I love drugs, but I can’t put myself through that again. Addiction sucks.

Yeah, Cameron, you’re fucking beautiful but you’re bad news. I fucking love that.

That’s horrible. This is what my number one, bad ass lady friend Kymberlee told me, via text:

When we talk about addiction, I think we should talk about being addicted to certain feelings, rather than drugs, because certain drugs give us certain feelings. I think people become addicted to toxic relationships long before they become addicted to toxic substances. And you’ve been addicted to toxic men for as long as I’ve known you (7 years, if you guys are wondering). You’ve beat H. YOUR STRENGTH IS INSURMOUNTABLE. Now, you have to beat your addiction to yucky men.

She’s right. I know she’s right. But I love him. . I have sick daddy issues y’all.

I’m going to an NA meeting tonight, if I can stay awake after work. Fuck, threw away 5 months sober. No regrets, I loved almost every minute of it.

I wish I could say I was done with Cameron, but we’re just getting started. It’s bad, I know. Fuck me.

PS: I really like girls, I really like kissing them. Girls are so fucking beautiful. I’m bi as fuck.

PSS: what do you even do when the man you love tells you he’s been planning his suicide for months?