I realized as I finished writing this that it had been a while since I had posted anything. I don’t have a good explanation for the break. I suppose I haven’t felt much lately, and thus nothing I’ve written in the past month has felt important enough to show to anyone. I haven’t found much of a purpose to anything lately. I realized that interactions have felt hollow, feelings I should have had were numbed, and honestly I felt stagnant. A year ago this stagnation would have been followed by a steady decline back into the depths of depression. This time though, I tried to keep living. Living for me may only consist of therapy twice a week, pretending I know how to use a comma, and trying to get my heart-broken by a pair of hazel green eyes, but it’s the little things that give me hope moving forward. The terrible nasty thoughts haven’t gone away entirely of course. The poem that follows is made almost entirely of those thoughts, but in this way they don’t haunt me so much. I’m not entirely sure what the purpose of this opening was. Maybe I just wanted to open up a line of communication to anyone who reads this, and more importantly add some much-needed context to some terrible nasty thoughts.
I don’t need 13 reasons why, my existence is enough for me,
To go looking for an end, for which the voices in my head plea.
There’s no way to romanticize the knife I hold here in my hand,
Each cut a primitive language that no one could understand.
These tears aren’t really pain, this smile isn’t even real,
They’re just me trying to pretend that I remember how to feel.
None of these are real emotions, they’re just something in between,
Products of this life that’s slowly ripping at the seams.
I’m slipping into madness, won’t someone save me please?
I hoped someone would notice when I started begging on my knees.
“Oh what’s that you’re sad too?
There’s something you need me to do!?
Why didn’t you say something? Come on through!
Oh don’t worry about me, I’m actually doing fine!
My needs aren’t really urgent, I’ll just keep waiting in line.
I’ll keep on standing here until someone tells me it’s time,
I’ll just keep on coping with all these shitty rhymes.”
Oh look they’re already gone, they didn’t care what I had to say,
I guess no one really cares if I see another day.
It doesn’t really matter though I’ll just smile through the pain,
And let all those nasty voices fight for supremacy in my brain.
Maybe I’m just done fighting, I can’t bring myself to care,
I can’t continue to question if any part of life is fair.
I’m quite done waiting for someone to show me the right way,
Done searching for a new smile to save me for a day.
So to anyone pretending to save me, please don’t even try,
I really can’t take anymore false hope, that someone cares if I die.
Me & a mask 