|An Introduction|

Three deleted wordpress blogs later, I emerge once again from a long period of silence. Still broken, but brand new.

I offer you a glimpse into my everyday life through poetry.

Enjoy.

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I don’t really need you

I don’t really need you…

I’ve got my demons to keep me company.

I don’t really need you,

when we go back and forth my madness keeps a hold of me.

I don’t really need you,

I am whole without you but only a piece when you’re with me,

you slice me up with words but you struggle to get beneath me.

And I don’t really need you,

that much.

After all, what people are to me is an accessory,

every person a revenge for what has been done to me.

You remind me of them all,

all the names I’ve been called…

And I don’t really need you,

it’s just a matter of time,

until you crack under pressure and turn me in for a dime.

 

 

Mental health log

It’s been rough lately…I spiraled right into panic and anxiety after a long depressive episode. I started to have issues with food again, I started to feel like I’m overweight and started to control my food. I basically starve myself now for whatever reason, I feel like it’s because I have absolutely no control over my life, so I chose this one thing I CAN control, and that is what I eat and how much I eat and when I eat. It’s not bothering me yet, but it feels like I’m protesting everything in this life by depriving myself of food, which is completely stupid. And I feel like it’s going to get worse from today…

So, I’m gay. My mom knows that, she knows I have a girlfriend of two years and I thought she had accepted that. I was wrong. It’s her birthday, so we went out to eat and she had a drink. That drink was enough for her to go on a tangent…She started saying that she still wishes that I’ll find a guy who could take care of me financially and etc. Right then and there I felt this pain, I wanted to cry, I knew I had disappointed her and the most painful thing was that she was right…I’m never going to get to have a normal life like everyone else, I’ll probably never have this strong shoulder to lean on like other women do. My girlfriend is struggling financially and has a lot of other things to deal with, so it’s hard…

My life is a complete mess. I’m a mess. I don’t know how I’ve let it get to this. I don’t have a future, all I think about is dying lately, I don’t see the point in continuing all of this…I hope I go as soon as possible.

Scars

Every time I look into the mirror,

All my scars light up on fire…

Especially the big one that goes down my spine.

I hate it. But it’s mine.

And the small ones go up like little fireflies…

A representation of an operation when I was four,

and a picture of self-hatred back when I was nine.

All my scars and scratches a long string of unsolved little crimes…

A failed attempt when I was eighteen,

A fragile self-esteem,

a face drowned in tears and faint ‘please, love me.’

They never did…

And each scar in the place of millions of words,

doubts and uncertainty.

A ‘hold me’, but instead I’ll bleed.

And each day they serve as a reminder of I once healed.

And I’ll heal again.

With imaginary love and drug-induced zen.

And even if the pain comes back ten times ten,

I’ll remember to way back when.

This life is a prison, I’m just waiting to die,

for a crime against myself, a 25 to life.

 

 

 

 

To dad

I was your little girl,

but now we fell apart…

You never talk to me anymore,

and the things you said – I took to heart.

All the times they were wrong,

you were always on my side…

You hugged me close, told them off and kept me out the fire.

But now you’ve grown tired…

You’re solemn and quiet,

You act like I’m not there…

And every time I look at you,

you don’t even seem to care…

I’m not that little girl anymore,

and I’m not someone you hoped to see,

and I know you’re dissapointed,

you wanted something else for me.

I’m sorry,

Hope sometime again you’ll talk to me,

that little girl from nineteen ninety three…

 

 

 

Hello, Pain!

Hello, Pain! Long time no see…

After all these months I thought you forgot about me…

In my chest there’s a hollow, you’re nowhere in sight,

I’ve gotten used to you first thing in the morning and last thing at night.

I see you’ve found your way back, you’re alive and well in me,

We’ve been through so much since I was thirteen…

You’re there when I cry and you’re there when I smile,

You sometimes leave, but you only leave for a while,

Nothing more than a matter of time.

I see you’ve missed me, and I’ve missed you, too,

Come sit at the table, I made dinner for two…

I know you pray on the weak and I’m perfect for you.

Why did you come back? What’s the reason behind it?

Did you catch me slipping or was there a reason provided?

Anyway, it doesn’t matter, just don’t ever leave,

because without you I’m not me and I forget how to breathe,

Just be next to me, sit by my bed,

and tell me the tales in which I am dead.

 

Scary mental health update

Something weird started going on with me…Since I have been prescribed the medication I was supposedly doing okay-ish. I had some moments, but nothing I couldn’t deal with. I think the pills made it so that I could just get up, get though the day, do my work, smile and that’s it. I was noticing I was faking a lot, I could hold up a conversation, I could laugh but none of it was genuine. Inside I didn’t feel anything anymore, I felt dead inside. Completely hollow. I started feeling like I was keeping to myself more of what I was really feeling. Then I noticed that I was slipping into this slight depression that was always buzzing in the background but I was trying to ignore it because I am taking medication and it should be fine. More and more I started to lose any kind of interest in anything, nothing made me happy or feel anything anymore. Going out somewhere, working out, etc, none of it brought me any joy.

So, right before I’m supposed to go on holiday, I feel it coming on full force and I’m losing it. I lost it. Last thing I know, I’m yelling with a voice that doesn’t even seem human, hitting myself on the head with my fists, I’m crying, I’m screaming, I clawed my face until it bled and I woke up today to find out that I fractured my jaw. What the hell is this? I can’t get out of bed anymore, I can’t eat or brush my hair. What am I supposed to do? I have a job that I value and don’t want to lose and the same time I’m scared for my life because god knows what I could do to myself now, I need help but I can’t risk losing my job.

So, I got all these thoughts in my head that I’m ugly, worthless and that everyone would be better off without me, a sigh of relief they would have. I’m completely broken and the worst part is that my parents have to see this and deal with me and that makes me feel worse. I’m a 25-year-old woman, supposed to be happy and look at me, I’m destroyed.

 

The broken and the poor

Don’t tell me life is roses and sweet cream on peaches,

Don’t tell me I can just look up to the sky and pick up the pieces,

I’m useless…

I’ve been there, at the darkest hour, head held low in the shower,

Water trickling down my spine, I am there for the pain to devour.

Don’t tell me to put on a smile and pretend I know what game we are in,

You mumble about God and how feeling pain is a sin…

How I am ungrateful and careless, selfish to the core,

I just know there is no cure for the broken and the poor.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Flawed machine

They said, take this,

It will make your problems go away…

I took their word and took the pills without a say.

Fast forward ten years later,

and six pills to hold me up a day,

I still go through pits of fire to keep anxieties at bay.

One pill for the morning, one to help you sleep at night,

I don’t know what I’m holding,

My hands are empty, I could not keep up the fight.

One during the day, one in the afternoon,

It keeps you sane, what do you have to lose?

And if I try to quit, the demons come right back…

Can’t control emotions, too quick to snap.

It’s all a downword spiral, nothing like you’ve ever seen,

All because the brain is a fucked up, flawed machine.

 

 

 

 

От нас почти ничего не осталось…

A poem I wrote in Russian


От нас уже почти ничего не осталось,

Только боль и отголоски прошлого в дали,

Смеха искреннего и счастья так мало,

Все отдаем то, что нам нужно самим.

 

И закровоточат столетние раны,

Когда землю покроет листва,

Когда город окутан туманом,

На душе только горечь, тоска…

 

И когда в воздухе застынет крик,

Больной, истерзанной души,

Мы обернемся назад и поймем,

Что в этой боли виновны лишь мы…

 

 

Weakling

I am weak-willed. I am weak before temptations and I am weak before God. I say I am this one thing that I would love to be, this imaginary person that I have not yet become because of my weakness. I’m supposed to be this old soul that doesn’t do anything bad  but then I turn around and do all these bad things. I say: Oh, I don’t smoke or drink at all (that is ideally what I would love to achieve in this life) but then I go and smoke or have a drink and then I am ashamed of myself because I didn’t live up to what I said I was. Time and time again I try and teach myself all these things like patience and self-control, but the more I try the more I fail.

Countless books have been read on all types of philosophies and spiritual practices and it hasn’t helped me at all. I find myself failing at everything I try to do with myself, my spirit. I pick up meditation and try to incorporate some spiritual practices in my life and my emotional state gets worse, after I meditate I find myself being more irritated and snap more easily as opposed to when I do not meditate.

All these mandalas and mantras and meditations attract me so much, like a beautifully wrapped candy bar but then I realize that I’m just a mere human being with a lot of weaknesses and it is impossible for me to just be this perfect human being.

It is painfully hard when you live your life solely because of someone else, and do things because of someone else. I stopped smoking because I thought my parents would be proud of me, I bought expensive clothes because I wanted the approval of my brother, I put unrealistic standards on myself that I couldn’t keep up with.

Moral of the story is, if you are not doing something because of you and you do it for someone else, you are ultimately setting yourself up for failure. You have to have this strong will to do something for you and only you, not thinking about how it would impact others or what others would think.