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SJ Mar 2020
There was a time when I was young and nieve to the world that I thought everyone suffered in quiet agony.
Not caused by others or the situation you existed in.
Just silent soul-crushing pain.
Pain that carved a hole in your chest taking over where your lungs should be.
Cutting off airflow to the rest of the meat sack your soul called home.
I never can remember the last time I was truly happy.
Genuinely happy where my laughs were real with substance and my smiles weren't hollowed out caricatures of the ones I saw around me.
Hollowness, I guess is the second form of this agony.
Where im not lying on the floor begging for the pain in my chest to stop.
Where instead I am moving through molasses in time with self-preservation because right now I don't feel like dying.
It's too much effort and apathy is my best friend.
Automatically living because your brain tells your heart to beat so, and your stomach to take in nutrition.
No matter how poisonous overall to the system it may be.
Some say your past self chose this suffering for a misdeed.
Redemption of the soul.
The gods above or below didn't choose it.
Free will and all that.
Then on a rare cloudy day,
(**** those who say the sun is the only thing that helps bring you happiness).
You feel giddy and you don't know why your smiling.
Or laughing.
Or full of energy.
(It's definitely not that sun with its Vitamin D).
The thing broken inside of you is suddenly okay.
The cracks have been taped over.
With haphazard stitches, that wouldn't stop a wound from bleeding out.
But your smiling and laughing and spinning in the middle of the living room like a six-year-old.
Watching the ceiling blend and blur until your dizzy and you fall to the ground.
Talking a mile a minute even though your body is going too slow.
Smelling flowers, hugging loved ones, baking too many sweets, dancing to slow songs like a techno beat.
Your heart is strong for once beating loud and heaving.
Ready to burst.
Some people stay like this for a week, a month, two maybe or more.
Anf they climb higher and higher.
The Dropdown is like Goliath's height.
Gravity taking hold and slamming you to the ground.
I, me, we, us...
We last not even a day, sometimes half a day, sometimes, most times, its a good solid hour...maybe less I don't know.
I don't remember.
Then im apologizing, second-guessing myself.
Trying my best not to cry.
Selfishly and guilty thanking whoever gave you a broken body that those highs aren't as high as Goliath is tall.
The Anger is next.
It simmers below the skin.
Bubbly, itchy, tight.
There is a monster that wants to escape.
Shiny things beckon you.
Overpasses on the freeway sing to you.
Traffic seems to fascinate you, and all of a sudden you want to test out the physics of a car speeding by.
Curiosity gets you.
Do things that move really stay in motion until something stops it?
Are you, I, we, us big enough to stop it?
Like Superman stopping a missile in the sky.
Your self-preservation kicks in then.
Sometimes. Rarely.
It shakes its head.
"No, you know this, you took physics in high school remember. You tested out this theory before."
Before though was a toy car and a golf ball.
Not the bones that hold us caged inside.
Stupid you smile and wait for the light to turn green and the silly what man to shines bright.
Funny, Desperation bled into anger just thing.
Selfish little thing.
I guess I don't need to talk about you anymore.
Suddenly! It's there!
A small hidden smile sits on your face.
Content is the word.
Its feather touch caress's your cheek.
Lulling you to sleep.
Though you stay awake.
The night bleeds into the morning.
You stay asleep until three the next day.
The pain hasn't set in, the hollowed-out sensation isn't anywhere near you yet.
The abnormal and rare unicorn that is Mania.
In its many wonderful terrifying forms is a galaxy away.
You might not see it for another half-decade but there is hope still.
The Rage settles, quiet you can't remember how you calmed the raging beast this time.
But it sleeps now nuzzled warmly into your neck.
You run light fingers over flesh just to make sure you didn't feed it blood this time.
All clean and smooth.
That desperate snake is also quiet now.
No longer famished.
It's had its pound of flesh.
A warm weight settles in your chest now.
The airways are clear.
Air, polluted maybe.
(The world is a mess.)
Fills you up.
You wake the world is tilted and the bottles line your dresser.
I didn't' miss a dose, did I?
What time is it?
What day?
Is it still the same year I least fell asleep in?
"Yes, you're okay. We all slip from time to time."
The doctor says.
"No, I didn't skip a I need to readjust?"
Then, as sure as the sun rises in the east and sets in the west.
The cycle begins again.
I wrote something again after a long time. Yay. Not really a poem but here you go. Remember your not alone.
SJ May 2019
I recognize my privilege.
I recognize my uselessness.
I recognize my inability to function.
I recognize that I may not be capable/disabled physically. But I am emotionally and mentally.

Though most of the voices are dimmed and quieter than before. They are not gone.

I feel them at the back of my mind.
Pressing at the barrier that is inforced by medication.

My self-loathing is stronger than ever though.
At every and one situation where I keep failing them.
At every and one situation where I keep being a disappointment.
At every and one situation where I am a disgrace to my mother's memory.

I know I am garbage.
I know I am worthless.
I know I am privileged
And Gods do I know I don't deserve anything I have.

Maybe I am proving that ***** right.

But the thing is.
I didn't ask for this.
For whatever broken thing that makes my DNA.
I didn't ask for this existence. This life.

I must have done something terrible in my past life to have been born so broken and in disrepair in this one.

I want to throw up. I want to die.
I don't want to be a part of this collective.
I don't want to breath anymore.
Let me drown.
Let me break my body into pieces against hard asphalt.
Let me suffocate in a car filled with gas.
Let me hang from a tree in the most secluded part of the park.
Let me drink the poisons under the sink.
Let me starve myself until my heart gives.
Let me burn underneath the hot sun until only the crows come to great me.
Let me fall from the highest point of a cliff.
Let me drink all the pills in the bottles to numb me to sleep.
Let me slit my veins vertically across my arms.
Let me puncture an artery so I may bleed out.

Let me
Let me
Let me
LEt mE
LeT Me

Let me breathe into the icy tundras of the north where my lungs will freeze and toes will turn blue.
Let the bite of a most wondrous creature in the humid south taking me into fevered dreams.
Let me bite the built so I swallow it whole and paint the walls, red, pink, grey, and wet.

Cant, you just let me pass on and away?

"No," says the instinct to self preserve the only thing that keeps me tied to this place.
I want yall to know...i don't plan on dying. Lol. Cause my body won't allow me to. There is a thing calls passive suicide idealization. My depression tends to manifest most often than not as apathy and or irritability.
SJ May 2019
There is nothing I can say or do to ease this pain.
It radiates from the center.
Where my heart should be.
Pulling unpleasant thoughts into its orbit.
A black hole of desperation.
Disconnected and disoriented.
A shark dragging its prey to the bottom of the ocean.
Leaving nothing behind but the ripples on the surface.
The moon holds on.
Dragging waves higher than the dreams you conjure.
SJ Aug 2018
Thinking back, it makes a lot of sense...
The well-hidden rage.
Minor outbursts here and there.
The silent plea for help.
Drowned furth by the shower head.
Spurting cold, cold water.

The numbness that comes afterward.
The beating of a heart calming down.
Echoing in your head.

It comes in waves, ya know?
They're not always soft,
Against the shoreline of your inner mind.
Instead, pounding sharp and icy,
Jagged rock and coarse sand under your palm.

Other times it catches you in your sleep.
Completely unaware.
Sometimes mid-sentence.
Your mouth left half open.
Eyes faded into the black tunnel,
Where all words seem to have disappeared into.

Brows furrow in confusion and loss.
Sudden tears spring forth like a broken faucet.
There was no trigger this time.
Nothin to push you over the edge.
And yet...

The screaming doesn't help.
The rage building in the pit of your belly.
Stoking an agonizingly acidic fire.
Which spreads like a virus into your veins.
Vibrating under your skin.

Hyper-aware now.
Thoughts fluctuating so quickly your mind spins.
Unable to catch words, phrases.
So fast they sound like another's voice.
Right in your ******* ear.
Another itch altogether.

Options, throw the good crystal across the room.
Pray your mother forgives you from the grave.
Knock a chair over.
Pull your hair.
Grab the largest kitchen knife.
Blood staining caramel skin.
Unmarred in years.
The old ones faded with time.
But you can still see them.
Drip. Drip. Drip.

You close your eyes against these visions.

"Don't forget to take your meds tonight."
You tell your reflection.
She nods trembling.
I don't know where to start...a couple of months ago I was diagnosed with Bipolar II. Safe to say, it explains so much of my preteen and late teen years. Especially now. Please note, this is just my interpretation of how BBD feels like to me.
SJ Jan 2018
I'm in love with you.
I've been for a long while.
I don't know when.
I don't know how.
We love eachother
But it ain't the same.
Demi-romantisim is a **** game.
I'll forever be too late.
You had wanted me once.
Now I'm a lost cause.
To the longing pain
That shatters my heart.
Argh. Don't even get me started
SJ Jan 2018
I miss you.
You don't reach out.
I'm too tired to try.
You have no idea
How much I need you.
Did you ever need me?
But you have someone now.
Somone who can love you.
Someone who can give you, their all.
I'm not jealous
Not at all.
I just...wish you were still here.
Distance makes the heart grow fonder.
It's what they say.
Distance makes my heart ache.
Makes me rage.
I can't fix this on my own.
Why won't you help me?
friendship ***** they say they'll always be there. in the end, you're left on your own.
SJ Dec 2017
When I need words to express what I truly feel.
They leave me like the breath you take from my very lungs.
Breathless and confused.
My world goes black and I am lost.
**** me sideways...
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