Something I am no stranger to
always having to perform
whether that be
on a stage, court, turf
the list goes on and on
but for everyone else
once they leave their battlefield
they can go home
relax
be themselves.
But not for people like me.
The people
that have to outwardly display
this image that they think everyone else expects
a fictitious persona
that is no longer you.
Because its easier.
Avoids all the half hearted
"are you okay?"
"what's wrong?"
"do you need something?"
"wanna talk?"
Frankly, I'd rather not say.
So I deceive.
Pretending to feel a way I'm not.
A way I can't even comprehend.
A way, long forgotten.
Happy.

Only a month and a half in,
but I'm already ready to say good bye
say farewell to anything and everything
the unpleasant memories
the hospital visits
the tragedies
the death
the despair
the darkness
the mistakes
the missed opportunities
and missing you...

I'm ready to start anew
pushing the past further and further away
repressing it all as far into their neat little boxes
even though life is way to messy for that.
This year has already taken so much out of me,
and I don't know if anything will be left.

You know the problem with depression?
You know you'll be okay, but you still feel awful.
You know people love you, but it doesn't feel like they do or even could.
You know doing something might make you feel better, but you just can't seem to muster up the strength.
You know you want to be well, but you just can't seem to get there.
You know you shouldn't let someone else's opinion become your reality, but sometimes its just easier to fall into the trap.
You know even sometimes its your own mind that's your worst enemy, but you can't help it.
You know you have value, but you just can't seem to see it.
You know no one knows the battles you face internally, but those are the sweetest victories of all.

Life's weird.
Love is even more so.
I am far from perfect,
in fact I believe I'm significantly closer
to the opposite end of the spectrum.
But that doesn't mean I shouldn't be able to embrace
this fickle, and sometimes abstract concept
of love.
Maybe I fall for the wrong people,
maybe I'm the wrong person.
Its gotten to the point,
where I want to love,
genuinely, crave the ability to open up
yet cannot stand the thought of it.
I want people to love me,
yet I cannot help but push them away,
protect them,
from myself.

This poem is more for those that actually know me, as some of the things are of my personality directly.*
For those that know me,
my father was never around.
No big deal, life happens.
For those that know,
I've had my fair share of abusive step dads.
no big deal, life happens.
But really messes with my head,
is all the stories that I hear about my father.
I say these stories mess with me,
because every insight I hear,
is reflected in my own personality.
Without even being near me,
genetics dictated that some of his best and worst characteristics
have infected my own self.
We are talking about a man
          afraid of commitment
          constantly plagued by guilt, insecurity
          an inability to connect with others consistently
          or, at the very least, a lack of willingness to make those connections
          very, very private about pain
          who simply refuses to let people in
          forced to the point of suicide attempts
          mental health evaluations by doctors
          talks out the side of his mouth
          knees and ankles always on the verge of busting
          has two sides to him, one caring compassionate,
          but the other often dominates interaction
....
but who are we actually talking about with those distinctions?
Me or him?
To give him credit that frankly, some people don't think he deserves,
he didn't have the best life.
But this is going to list even more similarities.
Abusive step dad? Check.
Awful childhood traumas? Check.
Having to grow up too fast? Check.
Too much responsibility, too early? Check.
Lack of positive parent influence? Check.
Tested at genius level IQ? Check.
Considered loaded with potential? Check.
He never made anything of it,
the shackles of his mind weighed him down too much,
so is that the point where we continue to share characteristics
or where I finally diverge and break that mold?

I cannot say how many suicidal soliloquies or
diatribes of dialogue I have veraciously verbalized
towards the stark stare looking back at me
from my own reflection.
The cold calculating eyes piercing, penetrating
a completely cumbersome set of armor
deliberately designed, ironically, to protect
those forlorn, forgotten windows to the soul.
Windows, once reliably radiating with life and love,
only now to be desolate, dark.
Alone.
Abandoned.

Do you know what its like
                                to constantly feel alone?
                                to always be someone's last choice?
                                to never shake off the pain and misery?
                                to be reminded everyday, that this is real?
                                to have to put on a fake show for the world?
                                to hear people say they care, but actions say otherwise?
                                to consistently put yourself out there, only to be hurt?
                                to have to sacrifice everything, ending up with nothing?
                                to never be able to forget the hurt?
                                to be unable to enjoy anything?
                                to lack any solace, or anywhere to go?
                                to live completely devoid of comfort?
                                                        No?
    ­                                                            Then don't tell me how to live my life.