i find myself at a loss
when i try to explain the nature of executive dysfunction
because there's no simple way to explain how i can't bring myself to cross
the small space between my bed and my desk to get a drink of water because my brain is in a state of malfunction

it's not about laziness, nor procrastination
it's not won't, but rather can't and a feeling of self-damnation
because my depression turns me into this abomination
with a predisposition to uselessness and declination
filling me with a constant dread and worry that anyone around me is subject to contamination
that somehow what is wrong with me will either result in infecting them or leading them into ruination
much like how that bleak hallucination of a malformed machination pushed me steadily down this road whose culmination and fruition can only be
my
end

but in one aspect i am fortunate because i don't believe in predestination
so odds are that i can still change this outcome
refuse to give in to my executive dysfunction's attempts at *******
and maybe, just maybe, overcome

some days you wake up and the noise in your head
is so loud and so violent it cannot be ignored
a cacophony of voices and memories and thoughts all fighting to be heard as soon as you set foot out of bed
and no matter what you do, there's no way that the noise can be restrained, not even if you tried tying it down to a spineboard
so you push the noise to the back of your mind because it's tuesday and you have to go to work
but still you find yourself half-dressed and lost in your own mind
until you pull yourself out of your reverie with a ****
because holy hell, it's already seven fifteen and you're about to be late

again


so you make it to work and the torture ensues
of small talk and forcing a smile
all the while reaching out to that one person who understands, telling them that your brain is like a subdermal bruise today
where you can't see it but you can feel it
you are constantly aware of it
and you don't know what to do
and that's when you remember the only coping tool that's left to you
to simply
drown
the noise
out

so you slip in your headphones and you put on that song
- you know the one,
that always silences every voice and sound in your head,
replacing them with lyrics so familiar they're warm like rays of the sun -
and slowly, slowly dissipates that thunderhead
the brewing storm of chaos in your mind
and in its wake it leaves behind
nothing, except maybe peace and a melody line

if i told you i was striving to remember who i was
you might suspect that i had amnesia in retrograde
but the truth is much more dire than that, because
depression has this uncanny ability to degrade
your sense of self, and the effect is magnified over time
so if you were young when first you were afflicted
you're much more likely to have trouble sifting
through your memories and deciphering with success
who you were before this mess
of mental illness made it so that you couldn't recall if you even had a personality prior
or if depression is and always has been your only identifier

in retrospect "you broke my heart, you *******" may not have been the best conversation opener
but at that point it was just truth spilling out of me, like blood after the executioner
has done his job and my suffering has ended
even though we both know it hasn't and might not
and these wounds can't just be mended

i remind myself over and over
that, as a good friend, i should be happy that you've found your happiness
but it's hard when that disconnect between my brain and my heart still results in viewing you with love
even though we've both acknowledged my "unworthiness"

i remember the feeling
the pounding of my heart in my ears
the way you set me reeling
when you told me why you were pushing me aside, reinforcing all of my fears
that i was unwanted and would never be wanted
that i would never be loved or desired
and by these feelings i continue to be haunted

and now that you appear to have finished
ripping my heart into pieces
it pains me to confess that my feelings don't appear to have diminished
but i continue to hold out hope that this ******* eventually ceases

because i cannot continue to live like this
struggling to reclaim the pieces of my soul you've taken
hoping that some day my heart and soul will reawaken
because right now i'm not sure i'll ever love anyone again
at least not like i used to

not like i loved you

because words have power and they can cut so deeply
that no amount of gauze or direct pressure, no tourniquet can staunch the bleeding
so i smile and hope it hides the pain in my eyes
think "ow, my feelings"
and say aloud "i'm fine" because i've gotten so used to telling "socially acceptable" lies

i knew it from the first time i heard you say her name
that it was going to be curtains for us and whatever we had going on
i could tell it was a new dawn
it was something in your inflection
that sparked in me recognition and reflection
on the times in the past i had found myself erased
displaced
passed over - again - for whatever reason
as transient in others' lives as the changing of the seasons
because i am only kept around as long as i am needed
and when someone better enters the picture my usefulness is exceeded
so i fade into the background like a wallflower should
somehow feeling empty and misunderstood
because like everyone else i just long to be loved
but time and again i find myself shoved aside, passed over, rejected
trying to hold out hope that in the end i won't find myself neglected
but my track record thus far, it speaks for itself in my solitude
so i resign myself to a life at the longitude and latitude of loneliness and feelings unrequited
and tell myself that living this way isn't that bad, for inspiration is by emotional misery highlighted
so i channel the pain into my art, my poetry, my songs
and i just keep looking, hoping i'll eventually find someone who makes me feel like i belong
someone who won't pass me over because i'm not, perhaps, the feminine ideal, a struggle that's been lifelong
and it's not that i don't consider myself beautiful
but i know my beauty is unconventional
and you've expressed that it's not your cup of tea
(and i hope the wounding of my self esteem, feelings, and pride was unintentional)
but in the end i think i'd rather be someone's shot of whiskey
anyway

apodyopsis was definitely a factor
in what drew me to you in the first place
but more than just physical attractors
were what held my interest because you are anything but commonplace

it may be cliché to say
but you make me weak in the knees
and now that a few people know
(and have started to tease)
the mere mention of your name results in a decidedly crimson glow
creeping up my neck to my face and ears
so no matter how subtle i wish to be, it is painfully clear

that i've got it bad
i'm carrying a torch
i'm sweet on you
there's really no point
in trying to deny it
and this time, to my surprise,
it sounds like
maybe
you're sweet on me too