"You need to talk more"
They say to my face.
"She needs to socialize"
They say behind my back.
Twenty years I cried over this
Twenty years I tried being better
Twenty years I hated every fibre of my being
Because I was something I thought I disliked.
But you know what?
Fuck you, assholes who tell me to change.
Fuck you, idiots who made me uncomfortable in my own skin.
I make less noise, did you ever think of that?
I don't bug others to TALK, TALK, TALK more.
I'm least interested in the dull details of your lives.
A simple 'Hi' suffices, don't you think?
I have people I adore, friends who are wonderful.
I'm fine as I am. I love myself.
I love being by myself.
I don't need you to tell me how to be.
I didn't ask for your bloody opinion, not at all.
Go jump off a cliff, won't you?
There'll be a little more quiet in the world.
Its been a while since I've thought of your name... Today I read a poem that brought tears to my eyes at the thought of you, but I refused to let them fall.
I am alway's being told to forgive you, by clueless friends and family, that you were young and didn't know any better. But hell, you were old enough to know the difference between right and wrong. Plenty old enough to use some basic common sense. Common sense such as
"Dont leave your 2 year old daughter in the car in the summer for hours on end"
"Dont leave your 3 year old daughter at the park overnight"
"Dont bring your 4 year old daughter to the house of your married lover"
"Dont take your 5 year old daughter to a strip club and leave her in the car"
"Dont allow your pedophile of a drug dealer to care for your baby girl"
Last year in total you sent me 6 packages, called 8 times, wrote 5 letters, wrote or spoke I Love You 16 times, and yet not once did you apologize. On the 8th call, you told me you were pregnant again, and it was going to be a baby girl. I cried harder than I ever had before on that one phone call. You asked if I was happy that I would get another sister, and as calmly as possible I told you I hope the baby is stronger than all the rest, and to lose my fucking number.
A total of 4 children, 3 of which you don't even see anymore. You allowed us to go through hell and beyond in your care, only to be tossed away into a somehow even more unfortunate lifestyle. Yet you somehow expect me to be happy for your pregnancy of a brand new lifeform.
The baby is now alive and kicking, and I heard she looks exactly like me even though her father was as Mexican as they come. I also heard you get pissed when people compare me and the baby's looks.
I hope she is a reminder of what you did to me, so that maybe, just maybe, you treat her right.
I wish I could say I wish you the best in life, but that would be a lie. I do hope you get better, for the sake of everyones lives around you. It was nice not talking to you again.
No longer your's,
no, no, NO
not good enough
hush! you’re too loud
the ping-pong balls
in my skull
an endless match
of self confidence
i lose every time
Money is jail.
Money is prison.
But money can get you out of prison.
Or is that what you are supposed to
Are you blind to reality?
Or have you closed your eyes?
Where the cells are divided
into square footage too;
made up of all sorts of materials,
but the same in a few fundamental ways...
The locks on the doors are meant
to keep the people inside,
just as much as they are meant
to keep people from getting in.
You are told that outside your door
anything can happen.
Bad things happen to good people
and bad people alike.
Why be good when you can be bad?
Why be the victim when you can be the
And if you think it is dangerous outside,
do not even go near
the kitchen or bathroom
in your own home...
Society controls our fears and paranoias.
We are made to see monsters everywhere
and when we point them out they will
Another type of jail cell will then
be engraved with our names.
One that is in our minds
just as much as it is in a hospital.
Is it a sanctuary for those who have lost
Or is it just another way to threaten and
Is it a place of healing and understanding
Or is it full of fear and suffering
Money is jail.
Money is prison.
You think that you can work hard and
eventually buy your freedom.
How well is that working out for you?
Have you been fooled into thinking that
you are a voluntary employee?
When really you are a slave to
and a slave to
and a slave to
the people who created it.
Have you ever wondered who your captors
Have you ever wondered why you are
while people are getting
just by selling their
Why can't you get
Why can't you have
what they have?
Because the slave drivers,
The One Percent,
created money to
and manipulate you
and make you their slave.
They will keep the money for themselves,
keep the illusion that anyone
can be like them,
and kill anyone who threatens their
For they too are paranoid.
They have even more to lose than we do.
The One Percent
faces battle with
The Ninety-Nine Percent.
All we really need to do to
the money system
in favour of
A COOPERATION SYSTEM.
A system based on unity,
and methods designed so that
can be free
and love life
and love the world
and follow their dreams,
and work together for a
to never be
convinced that you need to
by killing and
terror and bombs.
Nothing is worth all those lives lost;
looking long lost brothers and sisters in the
just because that is how we were taught to
Why do you lock your doors?
To keep the monsters at bay.
To keep them from stealing and abusing.
To keep your fears as far from you as
To keep yourself safely locked away in
To keep yourself from caring too much;
so much that you might have to take a
make a change for the
the worst monsters would be vanquished
and the worst fears extinguished.
When you go to prison they make you
that you suffer by living communally.
You suffer without money
or very little of it.
You suffer because there are monsters
everywhere you look.
But you learn to live
When you are finally released
you think that you are free.
It is an ingenious way to create and
the illusion of freedom;
by forming an institution meant to lock
does it feel
Laugh with me,
laughter is the best weapon
but don't laugh your way to
When you step outside
you take a breath of
You get a taste of
You glimpse its
and admire its
Then you go back to the
Never to wonder again.
Never to wander outside of your cell.
Close your eyes.
Shut your doors.
Don't forget the deadbolt.
There is a monster outside
There is a monster covered up
and suffocated by
You bought you jail cell.
You bought your debt.
You sold your slave ticket,
for something inane,
that might look pretty
but is emptier than
your slave driver's heart.
You bought your jail cell,
even though your freedom
was always FREE.
You bought your jail cell,
that freedom was not enough
to keep the monsters at bay.
You bought your jail cell,
and by doing so
invited those very monsters
to your door.
To your home.
To your heart.
To your soul.
Unlock your door.
Trade in your jail cell
for the only thing
worth all of the debt in the world;
Love for life.
Love for the world.
Love for fellow man.
Love for the monsters
who spent so long
If we show them love too,
then perhaps they will not
try as much to
Maybe they are
in their own treacherous
never playing for what they
It's me! Bethany G. Blicq!
Okay. Thank you for reading my rant. Love you all.
in middle school,
i saw girls obsess over boys
chronicled every detail about them,
drew hundreds of hearts with their names in them
and now i wonder if it was a distraction
to avoid how much they hated themselves.
the ones that obsessed the most
were always the ones who thought they deserved the least.
sometimes, i try to explain my loneliness and lack of a partner.
everyone says that the first step in being in a healthy relationship
is loving yourself first.
i think im worthy, i think im doing my best, i love myself.
and yet, all i think i crave is for someone to love me as well.
i dont day dream about a boy with blue eyes that i can get lost in
i day dream about a man who will smile in the morning just because he's waking up next to me.
shouldn't i be dreaming of a man who makes me smile just by being there?
am i delusional? do i not accept myself as much as i think i do?
have a convinced myself that i have surpassed the self esteem issues that plague the the minds of every other girl my age because my desire to be perfect became so strong that it convinced me ive found self acceptance when i havent?
but if i feel as if ive accepted myself, shouldnt that be enough?
isnt believing youre in a mind state the same as being in a mind state?
so am i just broken? too self involved to ever find love?
i think maybe its that i dont believe in love.
in high school, i saw girls who hated themselves so much that they could not stand to be single.
if they couldn't love themselves, at least they could get someone else to.
and if they couln't love themselves, at least they had someone else that they could love.
sometimes im almost positive i dont believe in love.
my parents got divorced when i was young, dont remember what age.. five six..
i believe that it was the best thing that happened to my family.
i got to see both my parents more since they both valued the time they got with me more.
they were bother happier than when they were together.
but now my mom is an what i believe to be a pretty loveless marriage.
and my dad knocked up this lovely woman and now theyre married.
but i always remind myself that they only got married originally cause she was pregnant.
if we love ourselves enough why do we need the validation that we are enough from others?
why do i have to believe that some one else is so amazing that i couldnt live without them?
why cant i make myself happy enough in this world without someone else doing it for me?
i had this argument with my mom about sex.
she thinks im too promiscuous.
and for comparison, my mom is chill, she's not off base when she calls me out for sleeping around a lot.
i tell her i dont believe sex has to be intimate.
i dont need to believe that this guy is decent enough to date to want to fuck.
i believe we are all human, with innate sexual desires.
i believe we are all human and we crave to be social and i believe sex is a type of communication.
tangent on tangent but back to love.
its not that im not open to it,
i want to make someone happy,
im skeptical of the idea of someone else making me happy.
and now i guess my conclusion is that i dont want someone to make me happy and then leave.
i never put myself out there when i like someone,
i pick people that will fall for me, but i dont fall.
im so utterly afraid of rejection because i believe that i am worth a whole fucking lot, and if someone else cant see that,
then maybe im not.
being high makes me so much more receptive to emotions that im not sure resonates so strong when im sober.
hate him for his inaccurate tendency to understand emotions
hate her for always being in a fight with her own feelings
he doesn't get it,
she cannot forget it
he doesn't show he cares
she cannot stop caring about it
and it's not just as little or as much
or as stupid
both of them kind of know it
both of them will kind of forsake it
i used to write
i'm not sure what made me stop
i suppose maybe it was the small glimmer of hope that began to appear.
the happy smile that i actually felt and not faked for once.
i wasn't sad for a moment
i wasn't anxious
i was simply caught in time
but you could say i'm back
because when it comes to notes, it's real
when it comes to looking back on my thoughts it's real
when it comes to eating less and less it's real
when it comes to crying more it's real
when it comes to questioning my sanity it's real
when it comes to wanting to disappear again ... it's real
hello depression, here i am
ready to be consumed again
ready to get lost in the dark hole that's so incredibly hard to climb out of
i guess i just couldn't stay away
maybe i was meant to be sad
after all, it got me to write again ay?
I am constantly terrorized by the desire to achieve the unfathomable. My mind is a database of self inflicted interrogations. When will I my work and my past fill me with pride instead of regret? What is this notion of success that I've been fighting with my brain over? Why can't I be more like her or him or that or this? When will I stop silencing my own voice to make room for the words of others? When will I start to feel like a pleasure to be around rather than a less than tolerable being? When will I let myself be completely and utterly content? A good friend once told me that I hold the same power as a sword, yet the only person I ever fight with is myself. I want to be successful, I want to be happy, but the lack of a specific definition of these terms makes me wonder if they're make believe.
as if you know anything there is to know about me
nothing you say can prove you know
'grow up' no SHUT UP
really should stop crying
yesterday's tears trace patterns down your cheeks
turn the other way, don't watch me cry
even that patronising tone in your voice makes me tremble
and the way you stare at me with your accusing hazel eyes
rumour has it you're so far gone but still you're just angry tears and
i'm angry and shaky and feel like utter balls but here we are, an angry write.
it's been a while xo