Alexia Guzman // Monmouth County NJ // 19yrs old// 

IG: @dandy.lions_

Tumblr: thirteenshadesofdopamine.tumblr.com


she was born hungry and the world instilled on her it was wrong.

she took first class with a teddy bear

held tightly in her hands

on a plane far away from the strangers

she called mom and dad.

she wasn't born with a silver spoon in hand,

but a monster in her head

created from the cheap shots of whiskey

a stoned brunette used to slap back on a sunday night.

 there isn't a rhyme or a reason

but sometimes the bottle has no ending,

from the twenty six year old at the bar

 to the little girl in the classroom asking for

 more, please.

teachers would bow their heads and

put the limit at one--

but while that little girl is

rolling down hills and picking flowers

 her mother doesn't know the meaning of

 "just one more".

 it's funny how we're connected with people--

from genetics to this false feeling

of needing to get better.

but for some people,

getting better means getting higher

and that only brings them down further.

so this little girl always wanted to go

up, up, up.

 while she's pumping herself higher on the swings

her mother's in the bathroom

doing the same goddamn thing.

until one day someone realized

 the sky isn't the limit

and it's better to be grounded;

but sometimes life decides to turn itself around

and suddenly you aren't grounded

but being pummeled

down down down

with this idea of perfection.

she wasn't a cookie cutter person,

more of a roller coaster ride

without direction.

you can blame it on the rehabs

 or the system

 or the stories

but in the end

i think it comes down to gravity.



i was walking on the borderline last night

and the thought kept plaguing my mind:

there are two sides to every story.

 i’m caught up in a cycle between day and night,

tossed between megalomania

and thinking maybe i’m a mistake

because i can’t feel a fucking thing.

but there’s beauty in the uncertainty

of feeling like a natural disaster.

i can appreciate the sting

of hitting rock bottom because i know

what it’s like to be among the clouds

without ever considering coming down.

waking up in the morning

makes me feel like sisyphus,

doomed to an eternity of repeating the futile.

i pry my eyelids open the same way

he pushes the boulder uphill.

i pray for stability,

to accept the things i cannot change

and the strength

 to change the things i cannot accept.

i’ve spent my life searching for serenity.

but when things are great

they’re too good to be true

and when the rock reaches the top

its right back to the start.