Loss of Motivation. Check.
2. Procrastinating. Check.
3. Lowering Grades. Check.
4. Health Problems. Check.
5. Exhaustion/Lack of Energy. Check.


I can't help but stare at the F.
Like a crime scene photo of the ****** of my grades.
I missed classes. Deadlines.
Struggled with anxiety and depression.
And yet even though I am haunted by these feelings.
I can't bring myself to care.
I thought it was so many things.
but perhaps I have just fizzled out.
It just me.
My problem.
There's no foul play,
My brain just decided to commit academic suicide.
We threw the toaster into the bathwater,
and jumped right in.

...I sometimes think...
......the only reason we fear the dark...
.........is because deep down...
............we know...
...............how easy...
..................we could fall into it...
...And that idea scares us...
......because we have...
.........no idea...
............of the destruction...
...............we are capable of...

I'm crying.
I'm lying in bed and I'm crying.
I'm lying in bed, curled into myself, and I'm crying.
I'm lying in bed, curled into a ball, biting my tongue, grasping my pillow and crying.

Why you ask? Because tonight it hit hard.
Because tonight I can't get over this feeling of loneliness
Because tonight I wondered how anyone could ever love me
Because tonight I wondered why I was still alone
Cause tonight I just wanted someone there, and there was no one.

Oh this bitter, painful, insecurity that comes with the lack of experience in the love department.
No first kiss, no boyfriend, no remotely normal guy has pursued me.
And by normal I mean not weird, awkward, obsessive, a creep or stoner or someone just looking for something physical.
Maybe once there was a guy, but only once. One night. One date. And then he left.

I let it all run
Thickly and quickly
I want them to see the messy horror of it all.
But it’s not all blood,
Rather it is the medium for my art:
Pictures of roses, cardinals, apples
The rouge on a woman’s lips
An  umbrella on a rainy day
A wool sweater
A pocket square against a black suit
The traffic light on the corner of the street...
Or perhaps I'll dip my quill in it and write
Because that's what writers do.

They turn all that red into something beautiful...

I am struggling to find my place in a world that is looking to plunge a knife between the chinks of my armor.
A world that will **** as quick as is it is to defend.

They called her basic
As though it was such a a bad thing to be
But it was not bad at all.
For how could it be bad to like what millions like in turn?
To have something in common with those around you?
There must be something great about those things for millions to pursue them
So to the girl apologizing for her vanilla latte...
No, to be basic isn't so bad.

Why do we distort beauty?
Beauty can be power, but it can also be a burden
I never understood, but now I do

When we are not bestowed with it,
We cage it by any and all means possible
We mock those who lack it and hate those who have it

Green monsters rise in us
We blur the pure with cold blacks and angry reds
We blame them while we try to be them
I suppose jealousy is a fickle thing

In the stories of old, they say one is blessed with beauty
To gain the admirable attention of others,
How it must feel to be dotted on

But then comes the curse
Of having too much attention
Of getting the wrong attention
Of being objectified and not respected
Of being catcalled in the streets and attempting to ignore crass comments and rude remarks.

Like the attention
Don't like the attention
To be called beautiful is such a nice thing
Until it's not.

Crying is supposed to make you feel good
If that's the case then I suppose I am always trying to feel better

I see you
I see through the mask you wear
I'm not fooled
So stop pretending you care

We both know
Your not who you say you are
The poison is slow
I can't believe you ever let it get this far

Stop lying to me cause i know the truth
They don't want you to speak
The demons that chase you
Let me show you the way
But, beware of the shadows that want you to stay

I can't pretend to know how you feel
So I won't but please know that I'm here
I don't want you to fall, but don't drag me down
Free yourself from this thrall
Or we'll both surely drown

Unveil your mask, break your chains
Open up your eyes
And you will soon see the enemy is bunkered
deep down inside

Tick tock tick tock

We are running out of time
The bombs about to blow
There is nowhere left to hide
Are you my friend or my foe?

I have stood by your side all these years
Exposed to your toxic radiation
Was it worth all the tears?
I'm done with this affiliation.

How can I call myself broken?
My heart is still intact
My soul is still whole

I am not shattered
Or beyond repair
But I still hold the title

Why?

Because there is a crack in me
And once you're cracked there is no going back

I'm not as far gone
But someone has cut themselves on me
The damage has been done
I am broken

Sad days are the worst
You have no reason to feel
You go through the day wondering if you're real

You just feel tired and empty
A robot without a purpose

So you listen to the sad songs
Because all you want to do is cry

And the only way to get there
is to inflict the emotions on yourself
You want to feel the pain

You grab a guitar start strumming away
thinking of the most bleak situations

Creating lyrics that match the feeling
Even if they go with a fictional scenario

Sometimes I wish I didn't have such an active imagination
Because things that aren't real can become as real as memory

You keep it slow and melancholy
Pouring out sorrowful words

I guess it is true what they say
Broken girls sing broken songs

I'm afraid of myself
I fear my own gullibility and nativity
It frustrates me that I can be so easily deceived

I keep an open mind, never taking words for truth
My conciseness warns me and keeps me sane

I don't want to be lied to or manipulated
I don't want to be part of your stupid game
You laugh when you think I believe you
It is nothing but a game.

It worries me
Someone I once thought of as a friend
Is a creepy predator in someone else's eyes
She told me what he did, who he really is
Do I take everything to heart or only half of it?

And yet it makes sense
I think I saw the signs.
I think I knew better

There was a reason I never told him my address
There was a reason I never wanted to be alone with him

He would smile and call me nicknames
I always felt unsettled
That little voice telling me
Looks like I knew better

I wish I had the power
To tell the deceptions apart
I wish I could see auras,
So I could know from the start

Do you genuinely like me?
Or are you just pretending?
Why do people lie and hurt
to those who don't expect it?

I hope your happy now
Did you enjoy yourself?
Cause You made a fool out of someone
Leaving them with broken trust.

I once again feel as though I am imploding,
because all of this destruction is on the inside.
A black hole devouring light.
Sit in the front seat of a chaos theory lecture and attempt to pointlessly assign order in vain,
for there is no rhyme or reason,
only confusion and grieving.
But you will still look for the butterfly who dare flap its wings.
I've tried and failed.
It's a frustrating thing.
After all, you can't lasso gravity;
You can't force these atoms to come back together into a solid state,
just as I can't force my mind to stop thinking, stop feeling, stop breathing.

Dear authors and poets,
                      With works that inspire and bring tears,
                       Do you intend the interpretation?
                       Do you mean what we think?
                       Or do you simply write and let us make-up what we
                       Want to see? What we need to hear?
                       We are taught be scholars the deeper meanings,
                       Metaphors, and life lessons.
                       We give you so much notoriety and acclamation.
                       Is it deserved?
                       Maybe it is maybe it's not.
                       We may never know.
                                                   Sincerely,
                                                                 An aspiring writer

I have to stay away from things that drive me mad,
Things that bring back thoughts that I stored away.

I remind myself of this as I see the signs,
I thought I was over this, I have been happy,

And yet here I am once again
crying over the me that could've been.

I am sick of crying, of feeling this way
I'm sick of comparing myself to other people
I am sick of the insecurities that wait around the corner,
Latching on later like leaches.
"Shut up!" I scream at myself.
"what is my problem?"
Even I can't answer that one.

Last night was the worst as I started to assign thoughts to everyone
My head hasn't been this loud in a while.
"They are laughing at you."
"They are annoyed and blame you."
Do others find me annoying?
Cause I do.
"You're pathetic"
"you cant do anything right"
"Its YOUR fault."
Spiraling and spiraling


I find myself apologizing for things I have no control over
"Why do I keep apologizing? I have no need to"
I wish I could stop and stand up for myself for once

I love it when angry fire fuels me
Cause it is during those moments that I don't care
"I don't care what you think"
"I don't care of your opinions"
"Shut up and stop telling me what to do!"
I mutter these words under my breath as I bite my tongue.
Because there is no point in starting a fight I may or may not win

So I go home and cry it out,
But I don't even have the energy you need to release the excess
This will only make sense to some as I have a very topsy-turvy brain.
Everything feels upside down.
I have taken a trip to wonderland where everyone is mad and very little makes sense.
Where is my mad hatter? They make me feel sane.
I need them in the air so I can feel the ground.

Her soothing words and our long talks bring me back up
I wouldn't have made it out without her guidance.
My mind is quiet once again
Thanks mom.

I’m clawing at my chest,
Because I want to make this itching ache stop
But I am unable to reach into my chest and grasp my stomach and clench my heart;
I am unable to tell it to stop its fluttering
Just as I am barely able to hold back the sob that wants to rip through my throat in an agonizing scream.
BUT I CAN'T.
Because I can’t do anything.
I have no control.

And normally I would be okay with that,
But in these moments losing control is the worst thing
Because it is the one thing I so desperately need.
Just when things are going well I collapse into myself again like an exploding star.

The cycle is repeating.
This is the hardest part. It’s the most painful.
It is crying all the time
It is anxious
It‘s having fidgety hands
It's headaches from furrowed brows
It's seeing the inadequacy of yourself and not being okay with it.
It's like having a microscope on yourself
Its being exhausted all the time because you can’t stop the overthinking, the analyzing, or the constant pity parties and comparisons

I’m sick of being so emotionally fragile.
I just want to move on to the next stage already
To the numbness that follows
So I can stop caring
Stop crying
Stop hurting so **** much

I just want it all to go away.
I want the pain and hurt to go away.
This ache isn’t numb, it's not sharp, but rather it is suffocating.
It is hands around my throat squeezing  just tight enough so that I feel like I'm dying, but aware that I can still breathe.

I have to throw up walls...
I have to refuse...
I wish I didn't have to,
But that's not possible;
At least not with you.

I love you and I've learned.
I can't give you everything.
Or you would just use me up.
The frustrating part?
You're unaware. Or your not listening.
It's the same either way.
It's for my own good
And yours too

Your reaction confirms I'm doing the right thing
Or you'd never respect my answer
(not that you really do now)
but I respect myself enough to say it.

I've been too lenient with you.
A realization that comes too late.
Like a mother and her child
Realizing her mistake during the tantrum.
The realization comes with the knowledge that you present understanding until met with opposition.
Contradictory texts and I now realize, painfully, you knew it was a big ask

....you just weren't expecting me to say no....

You don't respect my time. That much is clear. I just wish I realized it sooner.

"Loosing weight is weird" I think as I stare at my naked body in the bathroom mirror.
I don't feel how I thought I would. My anticipated joy had turned to relief, a burden I no longer had to bear.
My soul has always been chaotic-always waging wars against itself, so of course this too would bring conflict.
The clothes that clung snug to my skin are now too baggy. Clothes I finally felt confident after years of searching for what worked, what didn't, what was flattering, what wasn't.
And now I'm looking up how to shrink everything
And my ******* aren't as full..
sloping and drooping down without being rounded by fat;
like tissues stuffed in a bra that's just slightly too big.
Not to sound ungrateful, because I love this new body (it's an answer to prayer really; taking away the edge of my insecurities) but I suppose it feels a little foreign.
Like a best friends house you practically grew up in: completely memorized in its familiarity; marked by memories, a home away from home, but still not the place you called "home".
And I spent so long learning how to love this body; accepting her flaws, her imperfections, but never quite convincing myself, only to have to relearn again.
And in some ways that makes me...sad?
I don't have another word for it.
Maybe it's a grieving, for the part of me that was a part of me for so long; a part I scolded and criticized.
And I hate myself at times.
Because I was my own bully-projecting my insecurities with verbal lashings.
All because I had this idea that if I was prettier, skinnier, I would feel more wanted and less alone...that it was the missing piece to my happiness.
And the assumed projections of strangers thoughts bombarded me into thinking there was truth in those hauntings,
because somewhere down the line, at an unknown moment in my subconscious, beauty became abundant.
I should get used to this changing skin, because life and age will always be forcing it to keep up, to adapt; It will continue to expand and sag and wrinkle and crease.
And I hope I can learn to love those foreign bodies too, though not so unfamiliar....
                           just unplaced.

Take a moment
And look at her
The girl in the corner
In the back of the class
The quiet invisible one
Maybe not quite invisible, but no more visible then a **** in the grass.

You may not notice her
But she notices you
She watches everyone
She observes and learns

She is there but not
She's involved and she's not
You know OF her, but nothing about her

She laughs at the jokes
Answers the questions
And drifts through the halls.

You write in her yearbook
HAGS
Maybe say something nice cause that is what everyone does.
But at the end of the day she is as lonely as a music-less piano
And as quiet as the dead
And when she leaves, she will leave no ghost,
only a whisper
And that too will quickly be buried under the voices of many.

Girls like her peak in High School
Always thin
Good at everything
Great at sports
Beautiful
Lots of friends
Outgoing
Confident

Girls like me?
A wallflower
I'm not alone
I have sort-of-friends
I'm a shadow in the back of the class
Always silent
Mid-season I'm failing
Getting grades up just enough
for the final report card to say I'm "smart"
Fool the colleges i do
Silently being the only one who doesn't understand
But the class is moving on without you
Crying because I'm "not good enough"
Below/Average at sports
Never good enough for the team
Stuck on the sidelines
Always watching
My life is a TV program
I laugh and watch
But never feeling a part of it
I'm just a spectator

Girls like her peak in college too
Even more beautiful then before
A boyfriend to match
And a petite body that looks great in everything
Flying through college
Instagram model

Girls like me?
Flunked my first year
Home i go
More clueless than ever
"I changed my major" i tell them
I put on the act
"I know what I'm doing"
It's all a lie
A mask I wear
Falling apart inside
Feeling despair
The tears come easy
They come fast
How long will this misery last?
Comparing, Comparing
It's a bigger high school now
Except no one gives a **** this time round
I did this to myself
Want to fix it
Is it too much to ask for a win?
Medication helps the focus
I am making a plan

I'm learning
I'm finding myself
It's okay to take my time
It's okay if I'm a little slow
So why do i feel like I'm just fooling myself?
Everyone has a different path
I haven't given up
I haven't stopped moving
So why i am walking the treadmill?
Moving but still in the exact same spot?

I'm jealous of girls like her
They got it all
Wish things were different
Wish i was given their hand
Cause fate has delt me a rough one

She gets the grassy meadow
I get the stormy mountain
She gets prince charming
I'm still waiting
She uses her wit to defeat the witch
I escape and run through books and other things that distract

What is wrong with me?
Why can't i be good at things?
Why is this so hard?
I wish things came easy.

We were friends
Me and her
And i hate the green monster
that leaves me with this jealous anger

Stay away
Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat
All they do is cause me harm
All the doubts and pain creeps back
I keep reopening the wound.
Those negative thoughts i though were gone?
Well they are buried in the back of my mind ready to resurface.

This is just the beginning of my story
I know this
I am destined for greater things
I know this
I will make it
I know this
I will graduate
I know this

Yet, Girls like her
Leave me with lies that echo...

My love has been left sitting too long/it has fermented into loneliness/nobody wants to be the last one standing/to be the last kid picked in gym class/it creates disappointment.

Emptiness wraps me in its cold embrace/There used to be more of us/but one by one they were picked off/Falling into the snare of an intimate relationship/I am merely a placeholder until they get the ones they will spend forever with/and that was ok...at least I thought it was.../

I had my cat/but now she is gone/The one constant thing in my life/I come home expecting to see her there/on my bed/laying in the sun/on the chaise with her favorite blanket/I said goodbye on a Thursday/and packed up all her things four days later/The reminder was too painful/And yet I have pictures of her everywhere/because I need her presence/Loneliness was never so bad because I was never alone/until now.

So yes I am growing bitter towards the idea of boyfriends./Boyfriends become priority/You become less of one/Maybe when I get one it will be different/But I have vowed never to forget who was there for me/but right now in this moment/I am sick of being abandoned/of being alone/Of grieving what I have lost and what I don't have.

I love the person I've become/but I hate the person I had to be to get to her/ I wouldn't write the younger years out/for fear of who that would shape her to be today/that is you would find a completely different person/still bathing in lukewarm water/or lost at sea in a turbulent trapped mind/unaware/and yet I wish I could pick and choose/to remove those images, those words, the fighting/not all the bad/but the biggest of these./Who would she be?

I want...
              To write...
                               A happy poem...
                                                              But I am...
                                                                                  Still waiting...
                                                             For the day...
                                      When I...
                  Will be...
  Truly...
                                ...Happy.

Today I am angry.
I'm angry that the car is ***** from my sister's dog.
I'm angry that the cat threw up on my bed.
I'm angry that I wasted time taking the family dog to the groomers when it was the wrong day.
I'm angry that I'm tired
I'm angry to the point that I want to cry and grumble
I'm angry that these dogs are pooping and peeing in the house and making a mess and nothing feels clean.
I'm just so ******* ******* ******.
At everything.
I'm angry that the water in the shower won't heat up.
I'm angry that whoever showered last left puddles on the floor.
I'm angry the sink keeps clogging.
Heck,
I'm angry that I woke up.
I'm angry at everything around me.
But I'm mostly angry at myself for allowing my anger to show
For letting it control me...
But it still burns viciously with an unquenchable hunger.

I am hurt
But not in the way when you scrape your knee
And not in the way when someone irrevocably betrays your trust
I am hurt in a way that cannot be explained

I am hurt
But not in the way when you break a bone
And not in the way someone spits out stinging words
I am hurt in a way that makes your heart beat just a little bit faster

I am hurt
But not in the way when your muscles ache with soreness
And not in the way when someone tells you they don’t love you anymore
I am hurt in a way that makes my stomach twist and churn

I am hurt
But not in the way that makes you grit your teeth in pain
And not in the way that makes one shut themselves out from the world
I am hurt in a way that makes my chest tighten and constrict until I can’t breath

I am hurt
But not in the way that can be solved with the pop of a pill
And not in the way that a teenage girl who is new to love does
I am hurt in a way that makes me dig my fingernails into my palms so as to quell the bristling tears threatning to spill.

I am hurt in a way that can’t so easily be explained away  as a papercut or with a smile
I am hurt in a way that comes with the lying words “I’m Fine.”
I am not fine.

Today I hurt.
Today I want to cry.
Today I feel alone. Left Out.

There is no rhyme or reason.
There is no starting point.
There is nothing I can say to explain away the pain except that it’s there.

I am hurt.

I'm a pitiful little dreamer I am;
Head always filled with notions,
Nose hidden between pages,
Feet following in the steps
of a hopeless romantic.

I'm starting to accept the fact
that I will never be loved
to the degree that I love.

I've grown cold to the disappointment
but I'm not quite numb,
Still an ache accompanies this feeling.

Overthinking and mistaking
normal events as purposeful intent
Trying to fill a seemingly impossible expectation;

Or perhaps it's just me,
I'm too much.
Good, but not quite enough.
Loved, but still somehow,
second hand.

And I cant help but wonder
If I'll forever wander,
smiling,
but forever accompanied
by a hidden sadness

The only thing
that loves me so dear,
is the emptiness
that is birthed
from the fear
of doubt,
That I could ever be loved
to a depth such as this,
To how I dream it to be.

If i were to paint a picture of the thoughts in my head
There would be cold blacks and lonely blues, with hints of  angry reds and melancholy purples. a lively green peeking its way through.

If i were to paint a picture of my soul
There would be firefly yellows and apple reds
As well as autumn hazels and summer fire oranges
with streaks of that lonely blue and speckled with comforting lavender. A rainy gray softening the edges.

If i were to paint a picture of my eyes
There would be warm chocolate browns with flicks of fiery golds.
Blessed to be wide, wise, and curious like that of a doe, along with Long lashes for butterfly kisses.

If i were to paint a picture of my body
There would be rounded shapes, subtle tones, with flowers growing from her hands, all configured into a short, symmetrical figure.

If i were to paint a picture of my smile
I could only hope it would be beaming with the colors of sunshine.

If i were to paint a picture of you
You would be a blank canvas, because i have yet to meet you.
But I'm sure that you would be a beautiful, chaotic, masterpiece, waiting for a painting of me.

If my life was a book
Would anyone read it?
Would it be happy or sad?
Romance or Action?

If my life were a book
Would it be like a John Green Novel?
Or would it be morphed into Fantasy?
Would it be filled with Mystery like a Nancy Drew volume?
Or filled with Drama?
I think i would be a trilogy; possibly more,
Because one book won't even cover a day's worth of thoughts.

If my life were a book
Would it be made of experiences and feelings?
Contemplating the small stuff
and finding the beauty in everything?
Would it be like Narnia?
Everything metaphorical
Filled with personification and anthropomorphism.

If my life were a book
Would my inner demons become monsters or a curse?
Would my love interest be a charming prince?
A rouge outlaw? Or someone i would least expect?

If my life were a book
I can only hope it would be a great adventure.
One with foreign lands and exotic animals.
One that defies gravity
And goes against everything we can imagine

If my life were a book, if one were to read it,
They would learn more about me in a hundred pieces of paper
Then they could in a day.

If my life were a book
One could possibly know me better then i know myself
Because we often reveal more than we intend to without ever knowing it ourselves.

I had a dream
It's all a blur
I was afraid
It forced me awake

I struggle to grasp it
As it fades away
I remember a pain

There was something I'd lost
Or someone...

I had a dream
There was a house

It was pleasant
It wasn't unwanted

I slept too long
But the scene was short

There was a conversation i think

I had a dream
But not one I like

I was lonely
Though i wasn't alone

I can't remember
But do I want to?

Through open eyes Tears do spill
If now I don't sleep
I soon will

I'm afraid for myself
I'm afraid that I won't know the difference between being in love and being naive.
But I'm also afraid of giving my heart to someone
Because I've seen the risks involved when you trust someone with yourself.
I'm afraid of getting a taste of that beautiful love I've always been hungry for,
And then being left to starve.
I'm afraid that they will leave me
I am always dreaming and fantasizing,
But then there are times I feel the pain and fear that comes with trust and being in love,
And I become nervous and unsure.
                             Will this happen to me?
                             Will I fall in love and think he's the one,
                             Only to be left alone?
                             To be broken and sad with an aching heart?
                             To be drained of my tears?
                              Left with a sore throat and heavy eyes?
                              Because as beautiful as love is there is always a
                              lingering risk you might have to face...
But I want to know.
I want to know how it feels to always be on someones mind,
To want to be with them.
To miss them so bad it hurts even if just for a day.
I want to experience the unending joy,
The high when you are so happy you're glowing.
I have shed a lot of tears and I have been more sad then most.
Not depressed, hopeless, or broken.
Just sad.
I want someone so bright that shadows cease to exist,
And everything dark and toxic is a distant memory that i can barely conjure.
Like the hint of a dream that is on the top of your tongue, but unable to recall.
I want someone to blind me with their very existence.
I don't know if this kind of thing only happens in fairy tails, but i hope that one day soon i will find the light I'm looking for, to enhance this bleak and dreary existence we sometimes call life.

I'm in my villian era;
That is to say
I'm in my intolerant era
My "I don't give a ****" era
My "I don't have patience for peoples emotions and stupidity" era;

Except its not an era
It's a day
A week
It is a come and go feeling that helps me to function and push forward,
It is an intensity
A fire burning, but not from anger
It is power and control
It is a wall
It's still kind, but different, tainted
Searching for the motive, the string, the catch
proceeding wearily, lacking child-like faith.

It is the only way to protect myself,
demanding respect
To declare that statement:
"Don't **** with me"
To be a sheep in wolf's clothing
Until I feel safe enough to rid myself of this hyde.

A thumb flicks repetitive across the screen.
Scrolling.
Images of faces, targeted ads and mundane art.

A random couple standing on the beach.
I pause for them.

His toad like appearance distorts my face,
One nostril scrunching up in displeasure at the belly that sticks out rounding into his chest so you can’t tell where his torso starts and ends, while a pair of swim trunks desperately attempt to cling to a skeletal waist.

Her body is normal aside from the concave stomach and the ***** that had clearly been poked at, flayed away, reshaped into an over exaggerated spherical shape.

Two figures clearly trying and failing to force their bodies to reject their aging fate, but they succeed in looking less human, and more like that of distorted dreams. Their skin is too dark, slicked up with oil, and all I can think of is when leather for skin became fashionable.

Their bodies are theirs to do as they please, but this new species of seal takes away the beauty of the water kissing the shore and I find the thought of these distorted figures mar my vision of the beach into a sour taste.

I can only assume its attention they want with the transaction they made: her youth for his money.
So tell me, is it not within my right to judge?
Is it?

I scold myself for being quick to judge with my eyes
though I cannot find myself to be sorry;
For they have clearly invested in their outwardly appearance.
For the sake of themselves or others who is to say?
But they parade through sand exposed, out on display.

I ******* up...again
I always ***** up.
I can never do anything the way i want to
I am so angry at myself.

I hate these thoughts
I want to love myself
But i can't help but hate myself

These demons are always haunting my mind
I try to have good thoughts; positive thoughts
But like the pessimist i am, i think about the bad

Like a trick candle
when i think i have snuffed the demons out,
When i am starting to love myself again
They come back whispering unwanted thoughts
And then i spiral
And i think about all the faces that pity me

I am being too ******* myself, I know
And yet despite this
I still feel the lonely ache
As i wonder why success is always in front of me
But out of reach
Like a forbidden fruit I can never have.

I think I think too much
Thoughts are ricocheting in my brain.
Never stopping
One thought starts a domino line
I dangerously follow the rabbit trails

I think I talk to much
I think faster than I can speak
Then later I regret it
Thinking maybe your annoyed with me

Wish I could turn it all off
Im sick of hearing myself
Always overthinking as my brain keeps going and going
Always over-talking I ramble and ramble.
I Yearn for the peace and quietness

I blast the music to turn off my thoughts
Disrupt the chain, break the link.
Even as I sleep descriptive dreams envelop me
I'm looking for the off switch
For temporary release.

I'm mad at God
I've never been mad at him before
Always understanding and patient
I never questioned the purpose of the pain

The purpose of pain
I'm sure there is one
but I am tired
It is the same thing and I find myself trapped in a cycle of insanity
What is the purpose? What is the lesson? What am I missing?

I'm mad at God
Maybe mad is the wrong word
Frustrated. Hurt. Exhausted. Angry.
But not mad.
Its not so much a place of casting blame
but rather "what do you want from me!?"

How much longer will I have to endure?
How much longer will I have to cry out?
When will I see an answer?
You don't play mind games
and yet I am currently unconvinced of this

Unconvinced I have received any sort of healing
only led to believe so
"I don't know" has been a phrase I've said the most

So yes perhaps I am mad at God.
I don't know what else to feel when one is falling apart, even if they are falling into place.
The pain is still the same.