held breath
the space above my eyes feel as though there are worms
eating up the words i try to understand with my eyes
forgot to breathe
flailing my hands wildly
far-sighted, unfocused, hurts to squint

turn my head,
the screen of my vision tilts & becomes shaky

what will happen in the following plot?
i used to always picture the end
when i used to give in to the crests & troughs of the static frequency

a tickling in my brain,
a strong desire to flood the mind
and let it run down my cheeks; violently
to shake out the funny feeling that grips my throat silently
& forms thoughts beyond my control.

Boldness scares
various colors magnify
fears of strangers
"who does this person think they are?"
to not be as monochrome as us
to not be as safe as us

Their eyes on you
you feel their unease
Yet they don't feel yours

and your need to express to survive

i was left alone
in the epidemic
All humans inside
Dystopian
I'm outside, seeing these horrible things

And i remember that i can't remember.

that I've probably forgotten
Where are my parents?
Where is my home?

No humans on sight, i think they're all dead
oh no, they're all inside it turns out,
I'm the one who's considered dead

Perhaps i am dead
because feeling alive is so distant and far away

And i can't remember.

What does life have in store for me?
Everything is coming together at last
At this point, I would be afraid,
but somehow I'm not,
Future is approaching
My personality changing
And I'm almost seventeen.
Wow
Almost seventeen?
I'm almost an adult and it's hard to realize this.
I've been taking life in the perspective of an adult for some time now,
but to become an adult to match my thoughts?
I might finally act my age.

I've got standardized tests to do
I can't falter
So many testings of different importances and knowledge levels are approaching
and I've been so lucky to have been able to take a chemistry course of my caliber.

But will I achieve my goal?

I'm content and feeling full.
a fullness that filled up the emptiness and anxiety pit inside me not more than eight months ago
Wow
Eight months ago?
I've been living in my childhood city for about seven months.
seven months.
these months made me somewhat more than my usual okay
they made me feel
normal
And that
Love is for me
And will be there for me
True.
My work ethic isn't how it used to be.
True.
My lack of influence and social acceptance aren't easy to avoid anymore.
Perhaps,
This is some kind of lesson?

a... twisted lesson that involves the backstabbing of new "friends"

they are
Funny,
Yet not.
Accepting,
Yet not.
Envy and stupidity
Ignorance
I'm not any better in their eyes
But I do not care
I've been humiliated all too many times
I feel
Anger,
Yet I shouldn't.

This very school was chosen according to my research.
So sometimes
I feel like I've made a big mistake
and that is all my fault.
But it's like there weren't any other options either

A family,
that is short on money and barely afforded their children to go to school.
Their story,
repeats of every year that a new grade level comes into the picture.

For as long as I've been in the 7th grade, I've remembered the struggle and the worry.

I'm so sick of this infinite loop.
So I will be the terminating condition

stopping it at its roots.
to destroy any chance of plant seed deciding to latch on to soil.

the world doesn't need any more dead flowers.

Knowing I'll be feeling hopeless and could use the direction
the distraction.
What is the use?
I need to feel like I am being significant

But I am significant

But why bother?
there is no deadline
there is no action.

i find that time runs slow in the morning
eight skips later then it's 8 pm
three nights in a row

but what is happening?
Where is my will
my willingness
to REALLY live?

Everything
is always the same
same thoughts
same drive
but a drive to nowhere but dreams on broken foundations
monotonous.

I have to push myself, I know I must.
to be able to OPEN my eyes and SEE
because all I see is fog.

I am aware?
I do not feel aware.

i am trapped in a misty humid fog, waving my arms gasping.
trying to breathe
dying to breathe
i cannot breathe.

I want to experience life in all its glories
And I would have
Or do I just think I would have?

if circumstances weren't so hilariously unfunny
Why?
why do i get the thing i have wanted most,
At the cost of another?
I don't even get a say in the decision-making,
I am merely just the puppet in this simulation
Playing out the scenes after the act.
Why?
That's because the forces of the universe have a sense of humor.

I very dislike change, and so it finds me a perfect match.
But others who wish they can leave their hometowns, have to stay stagnant until adulthood.
Where is my right to a less stressful childhood?
Why.

why am i being forced to grow up?
Being forced to mature or else i cannot keep up

being organized is the only thing that keeps me sane
It is the only thing that I have control over

One of the only things I have control over.

I am the physical manifestation of anxiety
Screaming
to be heard
to be n o t i c e d


to be mistaken for art


It was
a way of rebellion in a circumstance where i was forced to mature quick
robbed of non-persistent
non-insistent thoughts

So i hope fate is happy now.
For through the course you have run,
you have molded this puppet,
exactly how you have planned.

you can check me off your list

What happened with me and poetry?
I haven't written in so long.
I feel a little dead inside let's say,
when I have to be opening up.

Do I have trust issues?
I do sometimes trust and have faith.

It's the intimate thoughts and emotions that I'm scared to uncover.

"Control".

I talk a lot about it, yet I don't have any.

So I strive to carry it out on myself.
It's not such a terrible thing in my eyes.
But to others,
I'm a ticking time bomb, primed to explode.

Although I don't have that explosive self-hatred gunpowder anymore.

Everybody's a critic.
And I guess I'm just scared of the judgment?

And I do to an extent!

I leave for one year and come back,
Completely different in all body and mind.

To be fair, it might be a little overwhelming
but. Why should I care?

and pick up the pieces for those who have fragile incentives?

It isn't my problem.
This is who I am, albeit being primed to destroy.


nobody can fix me but myself.

He's broken.
So broken.
He hadn't lost a parent.
But he is further from her than he was before.
The other is transparent.
Unhealthy habits.

Transparency has unhealthy habits.

Him.
A spitting image of his father.
Unhealthy ways of dealing with negative emotions.
He's throwing a tantrum now.
He can't handle it.
His rage filling up, consuming him.
He has justified it; not hearing nor seeing the logic others use to rationalize his feelings.
On the outside, he is definitely a toxic person.

One of those types of kids you should never befriend.

Toxic, indeed.
But not only to others, making fun of them and being bitter.
But to himself.
So young,
yet he thinks his intellect outmatches societies',
his maturity cannot be matched,
he is misunderstood,
he is one in a million.
He is not.

He is among the many regular people who carry a facade.
Shifting into somebody else whenever he cannot get what he wants

Perhaps,
this is because he can't handle his new life?
He was never like this before.
Perhaps,
his brain created personalities for him, for whatever each situation requires it.

So fragile, so sensitive.
Been through so much anguish.
So much pain.

And his mind could not withstand the transparency's abuse.
That same transparency that cannot understand him.
Made him hate the world and believe he was hated back.

He is a lost soul.
Underneath his manipulative, two-faced facade, there is a small child.
An underdeveloped mind.
That lacks power to process emotions correctly.
Numb, unfeeling of empathy.

At a time where puberty arises,
and the stress of a mistreating new life,
he has no freedom.
He feels as trapped as his sister.
She has people to confide in.
He does not.

He is alone.

Alone in his head.

His mother, he needs her. In so many ways.
His mental state is unstable.

He needs her.

Every time the cruel transparency strikes its manipulation,
nowhere to run.

Not allowed to process, not allowed to act,
if the little boy cries in retaliation, he will be awarded a slap.

Showing emotion means being dealt with more abuse.

Endless
Endless
It is endless
he wants it to stop.

unanswered cries for help.

but circumstances show that he'll be in it for a long time.
His gender,
is causing his anguish.
His age,
is causing his anguish.
His family,
is causing his anguish.
His existence,

is the bane of his anguish.

Maybe he's right, he is not a normal person.
He isn't allowed to be.

he is broken.
So broken.





and our family doesn't believe in therapy.