Gripped

If someone ever told me a couple of years ago that I’d be living like this, I would never believe them.

It feels like I’m in a state of depression that never ends. Every day is the same feelings of despair and hopelessness. I take my medicine every day but it just doesn’t do anything to ease the pain.

Even a couple of years ago, while I was studying and life didn’t hit me so hard yet, I wanted to do things, I was interested in so many things, I used to work out, look after myself, play the guitar, write poetry and much more. Now, I don’t do anything at all, even poetry, which was so easy for me doesn’t come so easy anymore. I’ve lost completely all interest in anything I used to do. I have no friends and just stay at home when I don’t have to go to work. I spend my days hating life and wishing to not be here anymore. I always thought I’d be someone but I work a low paying job even though I have a bachelors degree, barely have any money and no will to live.

I wish I had my life back, instead, it’s in the grips of depression and a miserable life.

I wish the new year would start without me in it…

 

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One Pill

One pill, two pills, three pills, four,

This mask with the grin doesn’t work like before,

it has cracks and dents and it’s falling apart,

to fake that I’m happy was my most adamant art.

Without it, I’m a mere shell that can’t smile,

only grits its’ teeth and goes on for a while,

on autopilot heading for destruction,

causing fires, chaos, destruction.

One pill, two pills, three pills, four,

To keep up appearances – I swallow them whole,

Get up, show my teeth and put on a show,

Getting pulled back and dismantled – no more.

 

 

 

Nothing

Sitting here in tears while my mom is asleep in the other room. Just crying because I don’t know where to go from here anymore.

Seems like my life is on the rocks. I have no job and barely any money. I’m back to square one, looking for a low paying job with a bachelors degree. This is my life, it is nothing. I am nothing. I’m almost 25 and achieved absolutely fucking zero.  All has almost fallen apart.

After all, I don’t think I’d wish this kind of life of mental torture on anyone I hate. A life that is complete zero. A waste. That is going nowhere.

All I feel is shame that I just couldn’t fulfill my dreams and achieve anything.

I hate how unfair everything is. Someone gets 5 million a month and someone like me is sitting on an old bench in some shithole without a penny and can’t get a job with higher education. How fair is the world?

 

Tense

Sometimes you get so tense and emotionally unstable that familiar scenes start to look foreign. The people that once brought you joy now seem unbearable, you’re completely detached from them. It seems that you’re living in your own little miserable bubble and others live in a completely different world.

You’ve become a hermit. Even a trip to the store makes you want to punch every single oblivious shopper in there. Feels like 1000 needles are piercing your skin every second of the day.

You try and laugh and be normal, you take your medication, your vitamins, you make jokes but you know that inside you’re rotting away and one day you just snap and you can’t do it anymore. You scream, you cry and do dumb things like harm yourself. You’re empty but you feel everything.

It eats you on the inside. Nothing you do is ever enough to make you feel better.

Gloomy Summer

Summer was never this gloomy
Shadows follow me around,
I’m on the path to find peace,
But I’m pushed off of that ground.

I was supposed to drown in lavish nature,
In murky waters of lakes and ponds,
Bask in the yellow, all-seeing eye,
But instead, to my haven, I abscond.

Closer to my shrines of Buddha, Jesus, Shiva,
To my false sense of belonging,
Gods I’ve never believed in.
I’m leaving…

This summer and all summers before,
Behind,
As well as all of mankind,
And this life that’s a chore,
I’m alive to the core,
But bloodless inside.

Mess

What a terrible mistake.

A game that lasts a lifetime with no manual to study,

And no tool for a correction to make.

What a silly story.

The one you’d never know the ending to,

And the hero never makes it alive or become stuck in a loop.

What a joke.

You never asked to be here,

Yet you’re stuck like a cockroach in a boiling stew,

You look around and don’t recognize the mess,

But the one who started it was you.