I stopped writing.
Not because I fell out of love with it...
My emotions just seemed to disappear.
I started a new medication.
The doctor said it would help my panic disorder, and it did.
I took that pill, like my mother talks to God (every morning).
When I went back to the doctor she said we had to up the dosage because apparently having 2 panic attacks a week still isn't okay.
I told her that when I woke up this morning I got out of bed without crying, but she didn't consider that as much of a victory as I did.
When I was put on a higher dosage, my emotions shut down.
After a few weeks I stopped crying, my OCD got better, my panic attacks were gone, and I could even go into the student union of my college campus without my heart trying to win a race against my thoughts.
I could breathe.
But, I also stopped having fun.
I felt like a stranger in my own body.
My emotions found the exit on the plane and jumped, never to be found again.
Since when did being able to breathe require me to feel like this?
Why can someone else's life affect my own so much?
I'm not the one making the decisions, yet I am the one whose cuts are getting deeper.
With each tear, I can see another layer of my skin.
With each layer of skin, comes another problem I buried.
How many layers does skin have? Because I think I'm running out.
I didn't ask for this.
We were doing so well.
I was never taught how to deal with situations like this when I was in school. They teach you how to do long division, but what they don't teach you is how to deal with the nights when you fall asleep to a lullaby of sirens and screams.
This can't be my life.
I've called this family my home for 22 years, but now all I see are flashing lights from the cop cars that show up at 2 a.m. and I don't feel home at all.
This past year of my life has been the worst one yet.
but no one
past their ears.
i wish you
would listen to
what i do
but your talking
it leads me
i feel like you
me at all
when i want
you to hear me and
you only stall.
should i be louder?
or get on
or maybe, just
maybe, i'll get
up and leave.
i feel like i am talking to a brick wall sometimes.
i tried to bleed you
out, but then i realized
that trying to eliminate
you would only bring me
closer to death.
i don't think you'll ever leave
You were the fire,
I was the paper.
I would let myself burn
and reduce to ashes just as long
as you were thriving.
I would disintegrate
into oblivion just as long as
you could breathe.
I would raise you up, letting
your flames get higher and
higher while I was cremated
or laid to rest six feet
I was never the fire with you,
but I can be on my own.
Learning to stand up for myself has been the hardest thing I have ever had to do, especially with you -- but you don't influence me anymore.
i feel so bad.
we couldn't go out
because my anxiety
decided to invite
i told you over and
over that i was sorry
because i ruined our day,
and you said
"any day with you is
i wish everyone was more
i love you to the moon and back.
I listened to you talk for 12 minutes.
In those 12 minutes I didn't say a single word.
You yelled at me for complicating your life,
when just 9 months earlier you destroyed mine.
You listened to me talk for 2 minutes.
In those 2 minutes I said all that needed to be said.
I told you the story of how you broke my
heart 3 years ago. How it took years to mend.
How I am in a serious relationship with
real love... and how once my heart was mended,
you tore it open again.
It took you 12 minutes to tell me that I turned
your emotions into a labyrinthine.
But it only took me 2 minutes to tell you
that I am finally whole without you.
starting fresh is a good thing, right?