The thought of you terrified me at first.
Another reason for someone to never love me.
It brought me to tears.
But when I heard my diagnosis…
I smiled.
I was relieved.
My thoughts.
My obsessions.
My compulsions.
They now had a name.
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.
OCD for short.
My thoughts no longer defined me.
They weren’t a part of me anymore.
I knew what to call them.
They had a name.
And maybe since I knew their name,
I could tell them to ******* leave.
Dec 30, 2021
Dec 30, 2021 at 10:34 AM UTC
I found a penny face up.
I flicked it off because luck doesn't exist.
At least not for me.
I picked it up and turned it to tails.
If I can't get any luck no one else can.
People say misery loves company,
But I'm just tired of things working out for everyone else but me.
I think I'm last on everyones list.
I'm the pocket change in the bottom of a purse.
I'm the last resort,
When people are desperate for some change,
Turning their purses upside down,
Throwing couch cushions,
Hoping for some luck.
I'm a lot like a penny.
But if I were a penny I'd have tails on both sides.
**** pennies.
Oct 22, 2020
Oct 22, 2020 at 5:04 PM UTC
What the hell does that mean?
When does someone become an adult?
When they turn 18? 21?
Or does age even matter?
Maybe it’s more about what someone does.
How much someone accomplishes.
What makes someone an adult?
Driving?
Moving out of your parents house?
Getting an education?
Losing their virginity?
Having a full time job?
Making money?
Marriage? Children?
What if I haven’t accomplished any of these?
What does that make me?
All I know is that I’m 25
and still feel like a ******* child.
Oct 16, 2020
Oct 16, 2020 at 10:31 PM UTC
I live deep inside my own head.
I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever make it out.
Alive.
I don’t know what living is anymore.
I’m never fully present.
There’s always a piece of me off somewhere else.
My mind wonders off...
I don’t even have control of it anymore.
I do it subconsciously.
I’ve been in my own head for so long now.
I don’t know where it all began.
Maybe puberty.
When I was in 5th grade I became a “woman.”
I was also hurt deeply by many people that year.
Friends introduced me to things a little girl should never be exposed to.
Then middle school was tragic.
I was hurt more times than I can count.
Maybe that’s when the day dreaming began.
The real world hurt me so badly that I had to create my own world.
My own reality.
After awhile I stopped knowing the difference.
Reality vs Fantasy
What is there to pursue in this reality?
Motivation left me years ago.
I beg her to come back but she never does.
Why should I pursue dreams in the real world, when I can achieve so much more in my world.
I guess that’s why Motivation left me.
She served no purpose in my life anymore.
I now live for the small things in the real world.
Seeing a new movie. Eating at my favorite restaurant. Hanging out with my best friend.
...
I’ll save the big stuff for my world.
Oct 4, 2020
Oct 4, 2020 at 7:17 PM UTC
I talk myself out of having feelings for you every night.
I make a long list of how under-qualified I am to be yours.
My weaknesses far outweigh my strengths.
It’s like someone with just a high school diploma applying to be a doctor.
I am severely unmotivated,
Terrible with finances,
And I do not work well under pressure.
Apply any pressure at all and I break.
You’re different.
You have accomplished so much in your 30something years.
Career.
Family.
Faith.
And you did it all on your own.
Then there’s me,
I don’t have anything to show for my 25years that I’ve existed.
I have books and movies to escape.
I read and watch life happen rather than live it myself.
Journals and papers filled with all my useless emotions and “experiences.”
Tear stained pages to remind me of all my heartbreak.
I have clothes that make me feel like I’m a woman.
Even though I’m a poor excuse for one.
I have makeup of all colors and finishes.
The only talent that I have.
Useless.
Not only do I have nothing to offer you,
I have nothing to offer anyone.
But although I know all this is true,
I will still anxiously wait for you tomorrow.
I will still daydream about the conversations we will never have.
I will hope during the day,
And break my heart every night.
Sep 29, 2020
Sep 29, 2020 at 11:43 PM UTC
Human touch.
I crave it.
But can’t have it.
It’s so hard being this alone.
A sound.
A smell.
Can make me want.
An accidental brush against my breast is enough to keep me wanting.
I lay awake at night forcing my legs together,
hoping it’s enough to keep me at bay.
I could take care of myself,
but no one will be there to hold me when it’s over.
My weighted blanket can only do so much.
I may feel weight pressing down on top of me,
but there’s no arms to hold me.
I can’t lay my head on my chest and hear my heartbeat.
I can love myself all I want,
but my ears still aren’t hearing the words,
“I need you.”
“I want you.”
“I love you.”
I can love myself all I want,
but it never seems to be enough.
Sep 17, 2020
Sep 17, 2020 at 9:55 PM UTC
I’m surprised I’m not hurting so much.
I’ve only been obsessing over you for three months now.
I saw your single relationship status and got my hopes up.
Excited by the thought of you.
The thought of us.
That’s the problem though.
I didn’t truly like you.
I liked the thought of you.
So I’m glad you got a girlfriend.
Actually you had one the whole time.
But I feel sorry for her.
I found out through other people about your relationship.
Your Facebook still reads single.
You never post a photo of the two of you,
But she does.
You may like it but you never comment.
In person you two look like friends.
Well, acquaintances really.
You two never talk.
She just follows you around like a lost puppy.
She gives you all this love and attention,
But you just stand there and take it.
You aren’t giving anything back.
It’s like she’s screaming at you to love her back,
and she’s answered with silence.
You maybe her boyfriend,
But is she really your girlfriend?
I feel sorry for her.
She deserves better than you.
People say I still have a chance with you,
But I don’t think I want a chance with you.
I deserve better.
Sep 13, 2020
Sep 13, 2020 at 2:58 PM UTC
“You take everything too seriously.”
“You just don’t have a sense of humor.”
“No matter how I react it’s wrong.”
I take things too seriously?
I’m sorry that I’m not always cracking jokes.
I don’t have a sense of humor?
I didn’t know to laugh at jokes at my expense.
Why am I always the punchline?
Why is my mental health a joke to you?
No matter how you react it’s wrong?
It’s always wrong because you always react the same way.
You never make an effort to change how you react to me.
Yet I’m always the one that’s sorry.
I’m the bad guy.
Put me in handcuffs and lock me away.
Why aren’t you ever sorry?
I guess I missed the memo from God stating your perfection.
My anger is never justified but yours is.
I just need to accept the fact that you will never admit to being wrong.
Accept the fact that I will never hear you say sorry.
I wrote you a letter saying sorry.
But now all I want to do is rip it up.
Burn it.
Throw the ashes into the lake.
Maybe I’ll jump in while I’m there.
Sep 7, 2020
Sep 7, 2020 at 1:23 PM UTC
She got dealt a bad hand in life.
But she didn’t fold.
She kept playing.
She didn’t walk away from the table,
And leave the casino like she should have.
She keeps playing the hand life dealt her.
And she’s slowly going into debt.
Deeper in the game until one day she won’t be able to play anymore.
She’ll be out of money.
Out of cards.
I just pray it doesn’t come to that.
I want her to fold.
Leave the table.
Leave that lifestyle behind her.
Count her losses and move on with her life.
There’s more to life than that hand that life dealt her.
I just wish she could sober up long enough to see it.
I just wish she could see that there’s so much more to life than the hand that she was dealt.
Sep 5, 2020
Sep 5, 2020 at 12:16 PM UTC
Most girls love having crushes.
The thought of someone new.
Asking themselves, “Is this it? Could this be the one?”
Allowing themselves to be hopeful that this one will be different.
But then there’s girls like me.
Girls who have anxiety.
I hate the feeling of liking someone new.
I hate having crushes.
While other’s get butterflies,
I get angry wasps.
My heart doesn’t skip a beat.
Instead it pounds against my chest like I just ran a marathon.
I don’t blush.
My chest heats up and gets covered in red splotches.
When I look down at the ground I’m not doing it to be cute.
It’s better to look at the ground than to look into another set of eyes that will never love you.
While some girls lose sleep out of pure bliss,
I lose sleep because of fear of rejection.
I’m not asking myself, “Could this be the one?”
No, I’m asking myself, “How will this one break my heart?”
But I will let this crush crush me.
I’ll soak in my hurt.
Make myself fully aware of the tears running down my face.
Remember how they feel.
And I will move on.
Like I always do.
“Weeping may last through the night,
But joy comes with the morning.”
Psalms 30:5
Sep 3, 2020
Sep 3, 2020 at 9:25 PM UTC