I lace my sneakers wishing I could organize my life this way.
My therapist is late again
And I wonder if I'll ever get my life to go as planned.
Racking my brain for organization skills I do not own.
Some things are destined for chaos.
The sun was out today-
But just as it usually does the rain came again
and so did my mania.
The sun controls my mood
and so does anything relating to warmth.
Controlling my emotions was never something I was good at doing.
The watch on my wrist is ticking down the seconds
until I have to stop writing and start talking.
I'm scared of how my therapist will see me now-
Scared of letting her down.
It seems the only one I do let down is me
because I'm always so six feet beside myself
But I like it here-
no one can bug me when I'm too busy sulking in my own self pity.
I start to wonder if that's what depression is-
or if I'm battling the idea of being okay with myself.
What does confidence feel like?
because all I've ever felt is confusion.
I've gotten to the point in my life
where not one thing makes sense to me.
Even what I write.
Every thing is all stream on consciousness
and not enough consistency.
My wallet is sitting on the table
If I wouldn't have glanced over
I know I would've forgotten about it.
Sometimes all we need is a second look at something
to remind you what can be lost.
I'm tired of turning everything into a poem.
My mind is on autopilot and I can't stop thinking in metaphors.
It gets really hard to write college essays
about History and the birth of America
because all I write is poetry
Plus, I haven't even traced my past back far enough
to recollect every event.
I wish I could.
Maybe then I could remember what you look like.
Maybe then I could deal with this life that has been destined to me
Etched out of stone and formed into skull-
it's funny how your structure can protect you but your insides are what kills you.
I'm tired of oxymorons.