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Monet Echo Dec 2019
I’m here.
I exist.
There’s nothing to resist.
I’m not happy, not sad.
I don’t remember how it feels to be mad.
I’m not melancholy. Not depressed.
Not thinking about what comes next.
Just here. Just existing.
So please stop insisting
That I’m upset or unstable.
I'm just sitting at an internal table.
Watching life happen with an unattached view.
Don’t worry, I’m fine.
It passes with time.
No, it wasn’t you.
I promise, I’ll be okay.
I just can’t feel today.
But... it’s better this way.
It’s just my mental defense.
No I’m not tense.
I’m indifferent to everything.
Yes, everything.
I’ll be fine tomorrow.
I promise it’s not sorrow.
Just let me be today,
and tomorrow you’ll see I really am okay.
I wrote this while having an episode of derealization. If you don’t know what that is, it’s basically when you detach from reality (although much more scientific than that). This is more than just “zoning out.” Its almost like a dream. It’s having the inability to feel absolutely anything. Often times my senses feel muffled. Everything just seems fuzzy, distant, and unreal. Indifferent is the only word I’ve found to describe how I feel in the moment accurately, because every other word I’ve tried implies emotion, and there is none during a derealization episode. Sometimes when this happens I don’t recognize my own body as me. It seems like I’m trapped inside a foreign body just watching life happen. My body goes into auto pilot and acts normal, so usually no one even notices. However, sometimes if it’s a really strong derealization episode, even my body doesn’t function properly and I seem withdrawn and depressed. This poem is supposed to be me reassuring someone who sees me in that extreme state that I will be okay. That I’m not depressed, not mad, not sad, etc. But that I just need time for this feeling (or more like lack there of) to wear off. I wanted to write it with an air of patience, due to my inability to be annoyed by people’s questions while I’m experiencing it.
Priyam May 2019
So there's a pocket in my purse
Its unopened or maybe its cursed
Am I just indifferent or maybe I'm afraid
(I'll let you in a little secret)
It's where I keep my favorite blade

It's been in my company for quite some time
In the moments I chided, in the moments I chimed
I have always kept it close like a love another
(I don't even know how to say this)
Sometimes even closer than my very own mother

But I like how it feels on my soft skin
I carve through my teary eyes, a ****** grin
But sure I hope that I don't die
(I don't do it to **** myself)
It just gives me hope that the bad times will pass by

Its been a while since I have cried
I feel like a psychopath with no feelings to define
So I reach out for my blade in the purse to feel something
(I won't throw it away so soon)
It gives me joy to know that i can sense, even if its hurting.
Raven Mar 2019
Your pretensions have you doing wrong.
You misleading yourself into opinions and facts that are brainwashing your own thoughts and integrity.
It's interrogating your thoughts and your actions have you proving wrong.
Are you really who you say you are or are you faking the person you show?
It's mind ******* isn't it...
No one is whom they say they are, but who they say they are is just a clone of them trying to be different, not realizing that they they just like everyone else.
The proven truth is that, everyone is like everyone, not everyone is different, and not everyone can try to be.
Everyone that exists lives off other people, influences, brainwashes and media.
Everyone is trying to be someone else and something they are not.
We call ourselves different, imperfect, significant, and unique.
But the truth is that we are all the same and none of us are unique, we are insignificant is this vast universe.
Just admit that we are all regular people trying to be something we are not.
It's not wrong to admit such, it proves that you are just human and we are all on different journeys, the soul however, the same, the canvas is different, same tears, same form...
Arms, legs, fingers, sweat, scars, veins...
We bleed the same and all wear clothes.
It's fine to be like everyone else, it's okay.
We don't have to different, just, indifferent.
And that is the answer, stop admitting your rights, start admitting your wrongs too.
The faults of humanity
Amanda Kay Burke Jan 2019
You have left me hanging once again
Been eight hours and still no word
After all you put me through
Do you think punishment is what I deserve?

I have suffered enough at your hand
Cried enough tears in your name
Yet it doesn't matter to you
Just treat our love like a game

I have done my best to be patient
Multitude of mistakes dismissed
You left me stranded without a care
Or courtesy of a goodbye kiss

I have been staring at the door
Waiting on you to arrive
You have been gone all day
Absent of you, barely feel alive

It hurts knowing youre fine alone
What the **** are you trying to prove?
Already know I'm disposable
But wanting to improve

I tried not to get too close
Failed right from the start
Fell straight into your enchanting  embrace
Now I'm falling apart

I wasted countless nights
Waiting to hear your soft voice
But until now I always felt
I had no other choice

Lately you have been cold to me
Putting me down with hurtful things you don't realize you say
Before you walked out the door
Seemed like your mind was far away

I do not know what changed between us
Or why you started treating me bad
How did things get so ******* ip between us
Reminiscing on the good times we had

I'm sorry our story turned out like this
Arguing night after night
Would do anything to go back in time
To days you still held me tight

But those days have come and went
Only exists in memory
Indifferent silence clearly shows how you feel
You are no longer in love with me
Why do you always find a way to keep me waiting around for you?
thesa Jan 2019
i like
how space doesn't care
about me

at least
it is impossible
to disappoint
the sun
Eleanor Sinclair Dec 2018
Another year, now older
Am I wiser?
Perhaps, but surely bolder
What can I say
I feel more or less the same

The years float by, entrancing
But each no more enhancing
The reflection has no change
Yet my vision has less range
The wrinkles aren't yet there
And the grey has not attacked my hair
But somehow I feel aged
In my own mind encaged
I don't mind the sound of my years
For some it brings them to solemn tears
I find it sort of soothing
As evidence that life is moving

The time is comes and goes
When it will end, no one knows
But for now on earth it snows
And the howling wind still blows
P Nov 2018
Some may shed streaming flower of rivers upon venturing uncharted places;
but Not I.

Some may laugh at the face of the unknown, and bravely face it head on, smiling all the while;
but Not I.

Some would break their bones, grind their teeth, and shatter their minds through the spectrum for that condescending god-like existence.
But Not I.

Some would dream basked in sunlight, living their lives freely and without plight; Not I.

No.

The one who merely passes through, pretending to be anything and everything. Living aimlessly and uncaring.
That, is my truth.
I wrote this a while back. and I'm posting it only now because it's 5:58 and I just finished coding, and I can't think of a new piece because I'm so **** tired. yet I wanted to post something so here it is.
Im far from home
It's been months
Since I've been alone
Since I've been
On my own

Im at this place
Supposedly a new start
Yet couldn't figure it out
How to move forward

I've lost control
Long ago
I have been stuck here
For so long
I wasnt even trying
At all

Im far from home
A new place to start
Yet I've brought with me
The feeling
Where you left me
Im still at this place
All along
Dabble.
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