amen

"A plain cream betrayal, hides behind these walls

Distantly voices of referring phone calls,

The nurses seem to say, behind noise-proof glass,

This kid thinks he's different, why should I ask

I almost stood up and walked to the door

But a promise to mother kept my feet on the floor

The hallway was scattered with irrelevant pictures

And cupboards of cures that they swear by like scripture

"Ahead to the left" she said with a smile

I thought to myself, this hallway's a mile

I looked for a desk, but saw couches and chairs

And she sat looking at me with the blankest of stares

"So how would you say the problems started?"

I looked to the sky as if deeply departed

What an obvious start to an embarrassing tale

Of a life that I loved and couldn't curtail

A family that loved me, an art that I loved

A time that I simply had too much of

"Are you drinking a lot? Are you sleeping OK?

It seems like these things could have come into play"

Of course I was anxious to tell her the truth

This had become my family's telephone booth

If I broke down here, what would that mean

Was I not as strong as my father had been?

But I think I can fight this all on my own

With a handful of happiness that never was shown

We talked about writing, we talked about fame,

We talked about why they all called me insane

She talked about being the one that was great

I didn't know much about that, that wasn't my fate

The only truth that ever came out of this mouth

Was a phrase that seems true only after you shout

"I guess I just can't handle the pressure,

I wish I had taken a walk for the summer"

The time winded down and we finished the session

My eyes had been fixed on the clock, it was pleasant,

I left to the waiting room, men waiting for wives

I thought of my friends and their interesting lives

And I stood at the door, the session was done

And I thought to myself, what have I become?

I walked out slowly and careful not to cause a big scene

I knew others would be waiting here long after me

Now when I think I had it all on my own

Is now when I realize, I'm really alone."

Partington, Joshua. "The Doctor's Waiting Room". Revolution on Canvas, Volume One. Rich Balling. Orange: Ad Astra, 2004. 82-83.

this is by far, one of the best poems i have ever come across. it's funny really, i stumbled upon this after a very long, first day of therapy. 

glitter

here's to a new set of eyes!

despite being tired and vaguely unresponsive, my heart cant help but to glow.

the sun laughed with me today and the moon will do the same.

hope, i won you.

the eyes of the beast are red and glowing

This isn't a recap of the year, or what i expect for the next. I wouldn't call it a rant either... it's more like a much needed talk.

i hate bringing up things that makes it seem that i need attention. if anything i hate talking about what's going on with my life. this is something that i have practiced since i was young and being asked to let that go is like betraying who i am. if anything bothers me, i brush it off. lately, due to my therapists request, i have been "bitching" and "complaining" like crazy. i don't chose to be miserable. i really don't. but when people tell me that i need to wake up and smell the roses, i feel like letting my fists do the talking. i have days when i wake up and go "this is going to be a good day, i can feel it" but i have those "fuck you, i don't need you" days, too. again, i don't force myself to feel like a worthless piece of shit. despite my trying, it seems nearly impossible to turn my frown upside down. so, fuck me for being a complete,  whiny, annoying, bitch sometimes but telling me to get over it wouldn't make me feel any better. saying that, i understand that there are people far worse than me. but at the same times, i don't understand how bad i am or could potentially get. i knew there were risks when i decided to go ahead and receive medication for my anxiety/depression, and the first few weeks were hard to get by but as soon as i got used to waking up and taking the damn pill, it was like, the greatest invention ever. I have denied myself to be controlled by that quarter-inch of plastic. i even ditched my meeting with my psychiatrist today. i have fallen to the same pattern again. this damn pattern has been followed religiously for the past two years but i hate the idea that i have to be dependent on a drug to make myself want to be alive. i fear that when you read this that you'll get the idea that I'm exaggerating, that it can't be that bad. i have a sunken feeling in the pit of my stomach whenever i think about what people may think about me.

this year has consisted of too much sleep, isolation, medication, therapy, trying to revive my friendships, and plenty of good times.

next year is as hazy as any other.

i am as optimistic as i am pessimistic. 

im going to ask something of you. if you read this, tell me what you think. i would rather know what you really feel than not know. if its going to be harsh, say it. if its understanding, say it. just talk!

I DONT WANT TO FEEL LIKE IM TALKING TO A FUCKING WALL AGAIN!

Dear Diary,

By now I believe you know the darkest of my secrets many of which lie behind the series of somewhat-unintentional fuck you's i gladly engraved on your skin. Despite your welcoming lines and your beautiful, white page glow, you've failed at giving me a voice. The head above my shoulders isn't a solid one, but rather a head thats been covered up in slew of darkenss. this conversation isn't one to dwell in my unforgiving hate for the world, this conversation is meant to finally say what i've been repeating my whole, unsuccessful and shameless life; I AM A SPEC OF DUST. i'm nothing more than the crumbs on your shirt that you so elegantly sweep off with your graceful hand. i'm nothing more than the dirt between your finger and your nail. i'm not a graceful dancers or a singer with a soul, i am everything that has been and never will be.
i have plans for the future and stories for many tomorrows.
stay tuned, diary.


forever yours,
______________

p.s. dont attempt to drown me in the beauty i have ignored.

three cheers for shit years

if i could go back to the day we decided to become friends, i would. not to embrace the feeling and savor the moment but to keep it from ever happening. i never understood what people meant when they said that friends come and go but after countless, sleepless nights and several, uncontrollable tears, i believe i know what it means.
i hate myself for not being able to let everything go and i hate that you don't give a fuck.
all the plans we had after high school meant the world to me; i couldn't wait to get out of here and live with a person i've known for almost six years. thinking about it all know, i should've known better than to trust a couple of teenagers.

i'm not the greatest friend, but if you needed me, I WAS THERE.
when you threw me under the bus and made me feel like shit, i swallowed my pride and took the first step towards a reconciliation. and i can't be that person anymore.

i really hope i never see you again. not for my sake, but for yours.

good riddance.

who's to say today is your day?

i've said that my heart feels heavy and every time i do, it seems like i gain 50 pounds more. my mind seems like its falling into the darkest, deepest well and the shivers going down my spine are getting to be such a burden. i'm ashamed to admit that i almost gave up.
i managed to trace my veins again.
my only regret is that i didn't do much damage.

i can't imagine what more i can say to make people realize that what is eating me up inside is getting to be a much greater struggle than ever before.
attention isn't what i want.
i want to be happy, calm, alive instead of ....this.

i am no longer really here

my eyes almost feel as heavy as my shoulders. i'm slaving the days away but have gained so little.
dr. urge and his accomplices are trying to convince me that i'm just growing old.

what do you do when everything you knew means nothing to the people you care about?

yesterday i figured it out.
i'm on my own.

my goodbyes are overdue.