First your expectations get hurt
and then you just try to blend in.
You pretend everything is splendid
and then there comes your ending.
Second you try to stay away
so you won't get into the bubble.
You forget what you had to say
and then there comes the trouble.
Third when you want to call
so you don't want to be forgotten.
You try and get up knowing you'd fall
and there comes your rock bottom.
-Paras Bajaj #PoetrybyParas
Instagram : @mr.parasbajaj
A husk, a shadow,
a memory now weak.
A place to avoid,
a number to delete.
A face to forget,
a life given up.
A name to erase,
etched into your skull.
A myriad of hopes,
to remember as dreams.
A time spent alone
to weaken the seams.
A reason to drink.
A reason to cry.
A reason to laugh.
A reason to lie.
A past to detest,
a loss to accept.
A reason to bruise,
to soften the truth.
An excuse to abuse;
a home, to lose.
caress my cheek, darkness please.
cover my body in flame and dip myself in acid.
ill bow to fear and loathing.
moonlight reborn, bathed in stars.
ill dive into the midnight pool, to cleanse me of my sins.
the current grabs my body, wrapping both my legs.
i feel the pull, of underground, and fight the urge to fight.
i look up to see a quarter moon through the waves.
with my last sigh, i let out soft bubbles of breath.
shortly after, eyes still wide open, i hit rock bottom.
Long liquid breaths fill my lungs
An ache, born in my skull, spreads through my limp body
A rush of salt, and spasms.
This is what I want... what I’ve been waiting for
Fantasies of my swollen body, split in the sun
Pecked by seagulls, picked by *****
All of them I envy
They are real
I am not real. I never have been.
I wrote this in college. My professor’s only comment: “if this is how you really feel, you need to seek help”. By then I had felt this way for so long that I didn’t understand that it was abnormal. That was 25 years ago. Not long after, I was hospitalized and diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I’m lucky to be able to say that I only feel this way every few months, now. If you feel this way, know that you don’t have to. You can get help. Believing that it exists is the hardest part.
I feel like I’m at the rock bottom of my life, feeling so worthless and all i do is blaming myself. I feel like I’m insane to hold the pang in my chest, the pressure of this world madness. Drowning in the deep of miserably and despair. Everything seems not in the line, so overwhelmed , and the hatred towards me has been growth. I don’t even know who i am, or where i am.
- it terrifies me, that i'm getting lost and neither can save me.
This is me now, during mental break down.
I am stuck in a bubble of black, molting lava.
The sky is a thick heavy.
The earth’s soil upheaveled.
I sped down the most beautiful highways that were lined with the skeletons of trees and trees that were lush too.
Yet, I find myself stuck in the most stubborn of sludges.
I can’t see the stars.
I can’t feel my feet.
Maybe if I keep pouring ink— thoughts lost in translation— my words will turn from dust to diamonds.
If I wrap my arms around the sun— cling ever so tightly— will I rise in the sky, luminous? Unglued?
I wrote this when I was very sad
Write me off, that's fine - if I'm honest, your eyes are not why I've bled blue on loose leaf for all these years.
I gave away a rough draft of my life and skipped the polish - yeah, I get that I'll never be published, and to you, my words likely look like incoherent ******* because I'd surely be full on illiterate if it wasn't for spellcheck & this stupid heart of mine.
My goal wasn't to be relatable (it was always for me so I could go back if and when I needed a reason to breathe I'd reread to see how far I've come) and so (I have no grand delusions of "success" or even dreams of recognition) I know I will never be a great writer -
A lonely man's truth has never been a valuable commodity.
I just wanted to let you know that I've seen your poetry & it's simply beautiful in all it's intricate complexities -
and mine is what it's always been (and bare with me now, as I attempt a metaphor) my ol' trusty lifejacket.
It just helps keep me from sinking all the way down to rockbottom.
Thank you all for sharing, I like to think I have a good idea what your words mean to you - and for some of us they might just mean everything.
And for now, I'll leave you with this
If you ever feel the urge to give up, just remember that if you do, everything you went through will have been for another man's (or woman's) kindling.
— The End —