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MAD Jan 2016
It would be nice.
To smile again.
To laugh a genuine laugh.
To wake up refreshed, instead of feeling dread.
Or dead.
Or dumb..
or stupid...
ugly..
fat...
stupid...
I know I already said that, but it's true.
It's even worse when you feel numb.
Then you go a little crazy.
You don't feel like you're human.
Humans feel emotions.
And when you're emotions just stop feeling...
That's the moment you know....


Bam!


You're depressed.
A little insight on how my depression is doing today.(:
MAD Jan 2016
Is a six letter word that comes out my mouth
and only means failure.
It's something failures such as myself say they do
Just not hard enough.
Once we accept the fact that we have failed
when we tried
is when we become eternal failures.
We'll only fail if we believe we will.
But honestly it's like telling someone that their religion is wrong
and their beliefs.
Its difficult getting someone to believe otherwise.
Telling me to try harder
is like me holding a gun
and not shooting at the target.
You telling us to try harder
is like Barking at us to hit the target.
It WILL NOT
increase the chances of us hitting it.
Why, you ask?
Because our hands are trembling in fear of failing, again.

The only way you can make someone not feel like a
Failure
is NOT telling them to try harder.
You can disagree. But we already know we need to try harder.
It only makes us feel worse.
Start understanding.
If you're trying to help someone who has a low self-esteem and/or lack of self-confidence, You need to understand.
MAD Jan 2016
Why can't I be treated like a person?
Am I a person?
What am I?
I don't even know anymore.
My happiness is non-existent.

I'm so tired. I just want to sleep.
"Just please let me sleep"... I say to myself.
I get mad at myself.
I feel like I'm preventing myself from sleeping
When in reality its not my fault.
I just can't ******* sleep.... and I get so angry.
Sometimes I want to hurt myself,
but nothing good comes out of that.
It's wrong, I know.
It's just so hard not to get angry at myself.
I try not to, I honestly do.
What else can I do? Is there no loop hole?
If there is one I'll find it.
And If I don't find it, ****.
I guess I'm stuck.
Stuck in my own world.
Maybe its better this way.

Just maybe...
Late night thoughts..
Needed to vent.
MAD Jan 2016
This confusion I feel
I don't want it to be real.
There's 3 levels of confusion.

The First level:
Expressionless. Speechless.
You don't know what to say or do
Your face is blank, trying to form some kind of
reaction.

The Second level:
Gibberish.
You begin to try to form words
while thinking about what to say, all at once.
Following that, you get frustrated
which leads to an upsetting expression
on your face.

The Third level:
This varies.
People are different.
The third level is what you assumed it to be
before reading this.

Which am I at, you ask?
Take a wild guess.
If you guessed level 3,
You are correct.
(Not some of my best work but oh well)
MAD Jan 2016
He's back again...
What am I supposed to say?
I don't even know how to feel.
Tell me how you're supposed to feel
When you find out that the last person you ever want to see
is coming back.

The memories tag along with the person...
They literally choke me, because I seriously can't breathe.
My fingers tremble as I type these words
But words cannot even come close
to my many mixed emotions.

Tell me how I'm supposed to react
When you feel like this will all happen...
....**Again
I'm really not okay.
MAD Jan 2016
I am from blank line paper,
From Coca-Cola, and ADHD.

I am from the taste of cold wet soil after it rains,
The puddles that show me a blurry reflection of what I could be.

I am from the parties around Christmas time,
and laughing my guts out,
from my sisters, my brothers, and my gifts.

I am from the arguments, and ****** language.
From being told as a child that I'm only good for 3 things, and 3 things only
1).Nothing,
2.)nothing,
and 3.) n o t h i n g,
and stupid, worthless, and dumb.
I am from constant worry about where my mom could be, while learning how to be one myself(For her). Church today? No, I can't. Not today.

I'm from Mexico, Tamales, and Menudo.

I'm from the cold, dark Rio Grande full of snakes,
the water taking me under just as I try gasping the crisp cold air, and the reoccurring feeling of death nearby.

I'm from the fire my Piglet Blanket disappeared in, and from the permanent stains of the water damage my childhood has been left with.
A personal poem of mine.
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