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Frannie Dec 2020
You are loved
You are worthy
You deserve more
You’re are not to blame
You can do it
You are important
You are beautiful
You make a difference
You are valued
You matter
You are resilient
You are enough
Frannie Dec 2020
Things that come to mind when people say “ How are you”

Cluttered, jumbled,tangled, confused, intricate, acrimonious, scattered, disheveled, torn, complicated, mucky, annoyed!

Things you actually say when people say “How are you”

I’m fine, I’m good, I’m well...
.Friday the twenty seventh of October at twelve thirty nine PM

-I am getting worse day to day, meaning that I am sad again. Real sad. Try anti-depressants even though they don't work sad. It's funny that I use that word since really it's empty that I feel . . . Or maybe hopeless. Call it whatever you want.
The thing about it though- is that I don't know who to tell. Half of everyone I know can relate which means no one even cares. I'm guilty of the same thing. "Just keep pushing it'll pass." Right? I love my job, my relationship is good, and we're financially stable. Nothing in my life is going wrong so I can't pass the blame onto some little problem. I spent nine hours cleaning my house on Wednesday hoping that I would feel better. I slept all day Thursday hoping that I would feel better. I wrote it down today hoping that I would feel better, but I don't. I don't feel better. Who am I supposed to call about things like this?

Not my sister because she's run out of things to say. There are only so many times you can be sad for no actual reason and expect someone to say something new. I decline therapy. It's expensive and I don't want to talk about a bunch of things that I've already gotten over, and pills? What are pills? I've been down that road and then down even further for . . ? Nothing. For nothing.


So what am I supposed to do when I'm carrying boxes and suddenly want to hurt myself? I've never been a cutter. Never been a burner. I want the weirdest kinds of pain. I want to snap a rubber band on my wrist or bite myself until I bleed. Crazy **** that doesn't make any sense to me. I work out everyday. I drink water. I bathe. I eat.

Honestly I'm really high functioning. I don't really spend a lot of time talking to other humans anymore, but I can chalk that up to losing my super empath powers I guess. I call it independence but it could just be exaustion. I'm so tired of self diagnosing. I can tell you what's wrong with someone else in thirty seconds flat yet somehow my own sadness continuously baffles me.

I guess it doesn't really matter. I'm not going to **** myself or do something crazy. I used to cheat on my boyfriend or let someone hit me during ***, but I've grown out of that kind of stupid behavior. For awhile I was writing essays about how to get through what I'm going through which were awesome for a lot of people but don't help me at all

Maybe I'm doomed to save everyone in the world other than myself. That would make sense since there's nothing I can do about my condition. If that's what I want to call it. So I guess maybe I'm just having a bad time.

I'm sure it will pass soon.
Marianna May 2019
I haven't wrote anything for so long.
My brain does not allow myself to do so. There are so many things that are bothering me, mostly about myself, who am i in this world, how people see me, what is going to happen to me. Every second i try to make some sense out of everything but i'm left even more confused than i already was.

Reality is scary; simply because you are never sure if you are genuinely aware of reality. That's because what i see myself as, might just be an illusion i created to ease my fear of being myself. I always thought i was a strong person, that i had values and strong opinions, that i am someone who will do big things. I always thought that i am a nice person, that i genuinely care for others, that i'm okay, just a little confused, but am i? Am i any of these things?

I feel like a ghost wandering from place to place. People are unaware of my existence unless i make sure they notice i'm there too. But i stopped blaming society long ago, it's not anyone's fault, i'm not sure if it's mine either,maybe it's my brain's, it plays tricks sometimes. But i am my brain.

Everything feels like it quietly falls apart, slowly but deadly and you can not notice the damage unless you straight up look at it. I don't think i am as okay as i say that i am, but i am okay enough, and i guess that's what's wrong. I can't wish for help because i am okay enough. It's a fine line that keeps me hanging there. We fail to care about ourselves unless it's obvious that we should. I guess i am like that too.

I don't know when i'm right or wrong, when i'm happy or just getting by. I find myself unbearable, weak and tiny, like a trembling deer chased by lions, only i am both the deer and the lion. I don't seem to be able to hide my genuine feelings anymore. I started to catch myself hesitating before answering to "how are you" or i keep repeating the phrase "i'm anxious about this or that". I seem to not be able to fake a smile anymore or other times i'm smiling too much. I trust people who seem to sympathise with me, strangers or not, i ran to open arms like a homeless puppy or i poured my soul on small glasses and forced myself to stop before i break them. It's weird because i sometimes feel in control and other times i'm all over the place or when i talk about myself to curious eyes i say too much as if i truly know what i'm talking about.

I fear so many things, so so many things that keep me from living. I want to do things, be with people, date, say my opinions out loud, i want to live and not force myself to carry the weight of my head everywhere i go. There are times when i put my guard down and i close my eyes and i feel my head falling to the side, too heavy to keep it still. I fear everything but love so much.

The reality of who i really am is suffocating and i don't know, i don't know, i don't know. My god how i wish i could cry in public and whine and scream on top of my lungs "******* all!" just because i can't be any of them. Or to make my mum understand that when i tell her that i am not that good i mean "mum!i!am!not!okay!" but i'm scared to hurt her. How could i choose to make my mother cry when i tell her that i think about death a lot. But i'm not doing it, because i am okay enough.

How i wish i could date the guys that call me "interesting" and want to get to know me, but i'm too scared of speaking to strangers so i act cold to turn them down when in reality i'd love to feel their warmth on my skin. If i wasn't afraid of going to new places, or talking to people, or experiencing life, or not ******* up every line i say because i'm too stressed to actually put my words in a correct order. There is such a huge gap between who i want to be or how i feel like i am and who i actually am or even who i end up looking like.

If there was no fear, how could my life be? Who could i be if i wasn't afraid of being? Really, is there anything in my life other than my loneliness and a universe of polluted thoughts? Am i anything more than flesh and bones? And how? How can i change and find myself? How do people know who they are if i, who knows too much about myself cannot understand a single part of my existence? If i can't understand myself then how can i ever be able to truly understand others, to be happy, or to be alive? How could i truly ever live my life without feeling the weight of myself dragging me down?

I sense the catastrophe running through my veins. Really, how small can a person become? I feel so small in my own room, even smaller in my own life. Am i even as big as a dust in space, as alive as a falling star or is there nothing for me? I wish i could be someone you turn to face, but maybe my sunrays faded away and maybe i'm way too small to take up all that space; but for you to look at me, that would have been the biggest accomplishment i have ever made.
If you are still reading you are now looking at me straight in the eyes.
Carter Ginter May 2019
Paper. Pen.
    Let's write out our feelings.
    "I'm having a rough time."
Cell phone
Online recipes.
    I should cook that soon.
Hotel websites.
    Free breakfast? Eh I'm vegan now so just fruit.
    Swimming pool? I'm sure it'll be busy
    Fitness center. Leo wants to run in the morning.
    Booked. Could be a good night.
Paper. Pen.
    Right. Writing.
    "I can tell journaling is helpful
    because I'm resistant to doing it."
Text messages.
    Leo thinks they were too mean to me.
    I think I deserve it.
    I love you.
Paper. Pen.
    Hm. I should write some poetry.
Photos.
    Wow look at how my face has changed, let's make a collage.
    Oo what else.
    Body pictures.
    Pre-surgery picture.
    Damm I've really sculpted up.
    Reconsiders feeling gross physically.
    Arguable.
Paper. Pen.
    How easy it is to ignore you.
    How easy it is to ignore myself
    And not listen to my feelings.
I am very good at avoiding acknowledging my feelings. I'm working on being more aware of it.
zen Sep 2018
Blue is a prevalent color
you can find it almost anywhere
at any and every turn
you can spot the color blue almost
immediately, within 3ft feet of you.

Is this the product of mans moodiness?
Are we that trapped and burdened with strife
that we paint the color blue incessantly,
unconsciously?
Or is it the appeal?
Are we that attracted to our own madness?
To the point we wear it on our heads
on our arms and on our legs.
Screaming with sirens of societies ennui .
The mind of many meld with angst and warfare
in self,
bombs away with blues.
Does the blues find man or does man find,
the blues?
Blue is the warmest color
zen Sep 2018
Blue is a prevalent color
you can find it almost anywhere
at any and every turn
you can spot the color blue almost
immediately, within 3ft feet of you.

Is this the product of mans moodiness?
Are we that trapped and burdened with strife
that we paint the color blue incessantly,
unconsciously?
Or is the appeal?
Are we that attracted to our own madness?
To the point we where it on our heads
on our arms and on our legs.
Screaming with sirens of societies ennui .
The mind of many meld with angst and warfare
in self,
bombs away with blues.
Does the blues find man or does man find,
the blues?
blue is the warmest color
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