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Jul 2 · 66
musings #3
Lucid Jul 2
no one likes to think they're selfish. i've denied my selfishness for years, because being selfish would mean that all those people were on to something when they said "you remind me so much of your mom." my dad is going to die soon. my teenaged brother won't live to see 30. yet, all i can think about is how the hell I'M supposed to wake up tomorrow, knowing this.

i've come to greet bad news like an old friend. instead of crying about it, i immediately head towards the liquor cabinet.

i went to my friends baby shower the other day. she looked happy, so i tried my best to be happy for her. everyone made comments about how they couldn't wait to have their own kid and blah blah blah. but as i sat in her living room, surrounded by the hopeful, happy faces of the girls i grew up with, i realized that i will never ever be like them. i realized that i wish i could be.

the most selfish thing a parent can do to their child is bring them into a world like this.

i think being wise means being able to see things for what they are and see people for who they are, and i can't help but figure that's why the smartest people are the most depressed.

my favorite teacher from high school just died. of all the students she ever taught, she once claimed she liked me the most. i didn't go to her funeral. in fact, when i found out, i felt absolutely nothing at all.

i recently earned my degree. after 5 years full of (literally) blood, sweat, and tears, I finally earned my degree. but as i sat in my chair, waiting for my name to be called so i could cross the stage and shake hands with the dean, i felt so ******* disappointed in myself. even my therapist can't explain that one.

2/3 of the people i love most in this world most likely won't be here in 10 years. i want to go to sleep.

sometimes i feel so ******* trapped that it becomes hard to breathe. then i remind myself, "you're doing everything they said you're supposed to be doing", but all it does is make me hyperventilate harder.

i can't tell my mom i love her without wanting to die.

it's cliche, i know, but i've come to truly realize that all you have in this tragic world is yourself. the only person you have to live with is you. so if you hate yourself...well i guess your **** out of ******* luck. ha
everything is tragic, it all just falls apart
Feb 8 · 330
Lucid Feb 8
when you're driving
do you ever wonder about the layers
between you and that tree?
Sep 2018 · 2.8k
musings #2
Lucid Sep 2018
everyone has that place their mind wanders to whenever boredom strikes, or whenever they become "zoned out"
my mind always imagines a ballerina in black, doing pirouette turns over and over again
it's especially vivid whenever i'm listening to music
over and over, round and round
i only realized this today, & it made me wonder why my mind always drifted there
i thought about it until i realized
how fitting
my conscious mind is always turning in circles
so of course my subconscious mind would, too

his hands on my body
the reeking smell of alcohol and coercion
my mother's lies
my brother's handshake with the grim reaper
the realization
the humiliation
the first time i told her i hated her
the sting of her palm against my face
my father's alcohol problem
i can't escape alcohol
my alcohol problem
the feel of the blade against my skin
the sterile smell of the crisis unit
everyone's willingness to condemn & forget

i don't forget

my body
his breath
her lies
the sting
the alcohol
the blood
the sterility
the pain
the pain
the pain

over and over, round and round
turning constant circles in my head
i fall down
With You - stwo
Mar 2018 · 248
musings #1
Lucid Mar 2018
my therapist told me to write more. problem is, i can't write in my journal at this very moment because that may tip him off that i'm up to no good. ever since he's been living here with me, i haven't had the alone time i need in order to purge my feelings. so i keep them inside glass jars in my head, but my inventory is overflowing.

he once told me that he thought i was "one of those people who will never be happy". i wanted to be offended, but instead i shut down. that was months ago, and i still haven't fully woken up yet.

i've come to realize that i can't recall the times when i'm feeling better than "not okay." my therapist tells me that's one of my biggest obstacles. she tells me i need to learn how to recognize positive emotions, as if i didn't already ******* know that. sometimes i feel like therapy is simply flushing money down the toilet.

i haven't had any episodes recently. the ssri's keep my emotions from occurring at all. i've learned to accept that my baseline attitude is "blah". though i can't say that whenever they ask how i'm doing. no sir. maybe if i can convince them that i'm doing better, i can convince myself??

there aren't any decent movies that address mental illness. hollywood is just now starting to address the topics of race, sexuality, and feminism. but you'd think with 16 million depressed people in america, those elitist ******* could come up with some way i can show my family what it's like to live without life. maybe then they'll be able to understand why they shouldn't keep asking if i'm okay.

i told him that i just wanted some alone time today and he said, "have you taken your pills?"

i keep having these dreams where i'm trying to say something, but it won't come out. i've literally woken my dog up several times during the night, because i've actually yelled out loud due to the struggle in my dreams.

i went hiking last week in the hopes that nature would bring me clarity. it didn't. in fact, i feel crazier than ever. i kept seeing myself lying in the clear freshwater as the current took me away. i'm not saying that to be poetic. i actually had hallucinations.

i think i may have a drinking problem
alicks - futile (feat. oneira)
Lucid Oct 2016
"She says, 'It's only in my head.'
She says, 'Shh, I know it's only in my head."

I was baptized when I was four years old
except it didn't turn out like most baptisms do.
It was a backwards baptism,
my childish innocence was left floating in the bath water like dead skin
and I stepped out bathed in sin.
Reborn in sin.
Seeds of sin
planted into my growing body
by the man with the face like Jesus.
"**** on it like a lollipop", he said
trying to appeal to the childish innocence
that he unknowingly stole
just moments before.

I did as he said
obedient child that I was.
I didn't know the difference then
like I do now
but the difference doesn't even matter anymore.
When you plant corrupted seeds
you grow a corrupted tree.

Now I wake up with blood under my fingernails
from trying to shed the hate
branded into my skin.
Now I'm constantly fighting a civil war
between the devil and god
raging inside of me.
Now I feel guilty for who I have become
because I never knew how innocence felt.
Now my poisoned mind only knows to yield
to the sinful whispers
that float inside my head
whenever I close my eyes.

I may have lost my innocence
but I guess
I didn't lose my obedience.

"But the ******* the car in the parking lot
says, 'Man, you should try to take a shot.
Can't you see my walls are crumbling?'
Then she looks up at the building
says she's thinking of jumping
says she's tired of life.
She must be tired of something."
We talk just like lions
but we sacrifice like lambs
'Round here
she's slipping through my hands
Oct 2016 · 898
Like the rest of us
Lucid Oct 2016
I found my mom’s wedding dress
in the attic the other day.
It was carelessly sprawled across dusty boxes of junk,
hiding in the corner of the room
as if it didn’t want to be noticed.

I remember it used to be beautiful.
It was once dove white
with intricate beading lavishly sewn into the bodice.
It had a full, glossy train that flowed behind her with each step she took.
It was glamorous
and expensive.
I remember she looked like an angel that day.

But it is no longer beautiful.
It lies unprotected in my attic,
vulnerable to the dust and rodents
that keep it company.
It’s color has faded to a **** yellow.
The beading is mostly scattered on the floor.
The train is frayed and torn
and I counted a few holes where the moths must
have gotten to it.
The dress is no longer glamorous.
My mom is no angel.

I found my mom’s wedding dress
in the attic the other day.
It was abandoned.
Like the rest of us.
Feb 2016 · 1.6k
Drowning Without Water
Lucid Feb 2016
It starts in your fingers.
They grow numb and then your throat tightens
and it feels like your vocal chords will snap if you don't scream
and your airways clog and you can't breathe
and your chest starts to hurt but you can't massage it
since your fingers are so numb
and the pain becomes so overwhelming that your brain dulls
and you can't think, all you can do is feel
and feel and feel
until you can't feel anything at all
and that is how you drown without being in water.
Jan 2016 · 342
Lucid Jan 2016
The springs groan and the backboard sounds a sharp crack under my weight.
It’s been doing that ever since some friends and I used it
As a trampoline on my eleventh birthday.

I slouch in the middle of my safe haven and look at my life decorated on the red walls.
I marvel at all of the roses I’ve ever received hanging upside-down along my ceiling.
My favorite is the dyed-blue bouquet that my dad gave to me years ago “just cause”.
Sometimes their dried, cracked petals fall to my floor, but I save those, too.

I notice the posters that have tattooed my walls since I was a kid,
An old James Dean portrait, Abbey Road, and Kissing the War Goodbye.
There’s my record player sitting underneath Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors,
One of the many vinyls my grandpa had given to me growing up.
Over there is my massive bookcase, holding well over two hundred stories.
I scan their spines until my eyes spot my two favorite books,
In Memoriam by Tennyson and Stephen King’s novella, The Body.

This is where I go when I need time to think or when I just want to be alone, safe.

But then I look behind me at the black cityscape my uncle painted on my wall
Just a few months before he hung himself.
I remember the hole in the wall hidden behind my door
That I made with my fist the night I first told my mom I hated her.
Above my record player is the last picture of my sister and me before I lost her
And scattered across the floor are the many journals that hold my darkest thoughts.

This place is me.
It is my Heaven, my haven, and my Hell.
Jun 2015 · 775
tell me
Lucid Jun 2015
tell me you'll tune my skin so it sounds like yours

tell me i'm more than just the throbbing behind your eyes and the weakness in your knees

tell me you'll let your demons play with mine as we lie together in bed

tell me that your hands are strong enough to carry around the weight i leave behind

tell me you'll listen to the screams that leave my lips and that you'll sing along with them

tell me i'm not just the dust inside your suitcase and the fingerprints on your picture frames

tell me that my heart sounds like wind-chimes and that it's bigger than the clumps of ******* that fall from my mouth

tell me my insanity is adorable

tell me my emptiness is beautiful because it echoes
Jun 2015 · 297
before i met you...
Lucid Jun 2015
i never knew that angels could wield fire
**or that demons could sound so sweet
Dec 2014 · 410
dear mother // a song
Lucid Dec 2014
The crowd around me’s thick with all the faces I’ve created
They’re all bleary eyed, but I still try
To find one that isn’t jaded
I tell myself it’s all my fault, though I know that isn’t true
I still blame myself for all the hell
That you have put me through

Your fire burned my soul and left it’s ashes in my core
Icy veins just can’t sustain
My life source anymore
I don’t want to hide behind the darkness of the truth
It wasn’t me; you’re the thief
That stole away my youth

So I closed my eyes to the monsters you left behind
Now I’m stuck asleep, unaware of my reality

I won’t awake. I died that day
You can’t seem to see, it was you that murdered me
And I just can’t--understand
You shouldn’t be allowed to throw away your child

You shot those words like bullets, now all I see is smoke
Reload the gun, I turn to run
As it seeps from your throat
I walked in on crutches; did you ever let that soak in?
I know you knew, so how could you
Break someone already broken?

I hope your eyes turn white from all that you refuse to see
All you see is you, so it must be true
You’re the queen of everything
Just peel away the flesh and blood you cursed upon my bones
Since it’s yours to take, you won’t hesitate
To sit upon your throne

So I closed my eyes to the monsters you left behind
Now I’m stuck asleep, unaware of my reality

I won’t awake. I died that day
You can’t seem to see, it was you that murdered me
And I just can’t--understand
You shouldn’t be allowed to throw away your child

I can’t seem to wake up. Just want you to make up
For what you said to me, I need an apology.
What hurts me the most is I just won’t let go
Of the kind woman who liked to hold my hand
Penalize, traumatize
Recognize all the lies
Crying, I’m dying
From all of your lying
Lost at sea, I can’t breathe
What have you done to me?
Drowning, I’m drowning, I’m drowning

I won’t awake. I died that day
You can’t seem to see, it was you that murdered me
And I just can’t--understand
**You shouldn’t be allowed to throw away your child
Nov 2014 · 381
Lucid Nov 2014
What have we become, oh humans
Hands made for breaking things without touching them
We drown in our temptations
Without a moments hesitation

Take a look around, what do you see?
Fake smiles straining from hypocrisy
Consume and devour
Take what isn’t ours

Penalize, glamorize
Recognize all the lies
Such a waste, big disgrace
**Why am I in this place?
Oct 2014 · 834
Lucid Oct 2014
love makes you blind, right?
but you made me blind
does that make you love?

because love also made me

because love also made me

because love also made me

because love also made me

because love made me

*so i guess you really are love
Sep 2014 · 1.5k
Lucid Sep 2014
Sep 2014 · 1.4k
Lucid Sep 2014
i need you to hold me in your arms and let me cry
without asking questions, without wondering why
just hold my trembling body as my demons drip from my eyes
Sep 2014 · 3.2k
Lucid Sep 2014
in the beginning
you were my fire

your breath like flames
igniting a spark inside of me
giving me life

but you are no longer fire

all that's left of your fire
are the ashes of my soul that coat my tongue
*whenever i dare speak your name
Sep 2014 · 753
i am going to explode
Lucid Sep 2014
true loneliness
is not the result of an empty body
true loneliness
is the result of a full body;
a body that's about to explode
                              and when it does,
true loneliness*
is what's felt when you realize you have
no one to pick up the pieces.
Sep 2014 · 1.5k
dear grandmother
Lucid Sep 2014
all i see when i look at you is the smoke seeping from your mouth
after you shot those words like bullets at my heart

**and you never bothered to apologize
Sep 2014 · 2.1k
Lucid Sep 2014
Your **** was disguised as beauty
*You are the worst kind of deceit
Sep 2014 · 1.3k
I am air
Lucid Sep 2014
I am air.

You breathe me in when you feel the need
Until I get lost inside.
But it seems no matter how hard I plead
I'm exhaled and left behind.

I am air.

I touch your clothes, your hair, your skin
Just begging to be seen.
But to you, I am forgotten
To you, I am nothing.

I am air.

I know I am necessary
And all I do is strive
To make you understand that I'm the very
Reason you are alive.

I am used. I am abused.
I am alone. I am unknown.
I am everywhere. I am nowhere. I am air.

— The End —