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Seline Mui May 2019
I stick my self in the microwave trapped in a sealed bag and set the time for twenty-four hours, seven days a week.
I count the seconds and wait to explode
But I don’t, instead I shrink with the bag and we shrivel up melting into one. The bag and me,
Cursing the desperation to get out becomes too real. I can’t deal with life on life’s terms. “**** God!”, I say to myself. I am the stick and he is the drum. All about me, I’m in control.
Obsessed with resentment, I hug my body and wait to die. The burning fumes fill my eyes, my ears and my nose. There is blood all over my body. Fourth degree burn seeps into my brain through my skull. I am sinking but
Was me who tightened the noose around my neck ; was me to throw the anchor to the bottom of lava’s abyss. For one split second a spark surges into my soul causing me feel alive and free. Small holes form through the bag growing at light speed. The toxic lava shooting out worry fear, and every loss until the bag is parched.
Still sealed in I claw at the holes with what’s left of my hand. Vanishing around me, they all seal up. In two seconds dark will suffocate me. No longer can I fight to stay alive.
I close my eyes and prepare to die
But when I open them I’m not inside anymore
Instead I’m outside the microwave back into my own body, flaws and all. I felt a powerful spirit pull me back to life just for today.
I will never forget the beat of the drum sound my name. I am the drum, God is the stick.
We beat as one. Together we walk the path, no longer just me,
Because God and I are meant to be.
Today in recovery .
Seline Mui Sep 2018
I think there is a void in me,
I'm trying to fill with guys
but,
that doesn't give me happiness at all
Seline Mui Sep 2018
Minute by minute
hour by hour
the angry swells so heavy
I'm about to pass out
and i want to never wake up.
Lost and confused trying to find myself again
So I pick up a pen and spill the ink
Black is what I see and what I bleed
Joy is a mystery that I can't seem to grasp
losing hope and faith
is it you or is it me?
Was this even meant to be?
You stole my identity and said you were my friend.
Ripped out of my arms, whispering goodbye.
And the hole widens with anger and spite.
Why doesn't this feel right?
This was suppose to be my chance, my dream!
To show the world that I am enough,
that I'm real and I feel!
This depression and stress, I want it to rest.
I need it to rest.
Why do i keep feeling like I'm not enough?
Is it you or is it me?
God, can you hear me scream?
I don't know what to do, I'm dazed and confused.
Chasing the dragon in the bathroom at work,
my only source of peace, my fake fidelity.
Sticking needles in places scars used to be.
Once healed, now marking its territory.
Again and again, how longer will I bend,
How longer will I need to prove myself?
How much longer will I come second place?
Where is your faith and why do I seek your approval?
I keep blaming you, but is it me?
A shoutout to all that feel this way, you're not alone, and I hope i'm not either. Hugs and kisses. XoXo
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