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Chelsea Quigley Nov 2023
I live
In false reality,
So they say.
A world of 'nonsense'
And 'immature play'.

A world where one
Cannot be torn.
No heart to break,
Nobody to mourn.

For here I lay
On my bed,
To breathe.
Creating a creation,
Only known to me.

As Stars and moon
Begin to shine.
Through world of wonder,
That is only mine.

And this little truth,
Is truly divine.
This poem is solely about the truths of Maladaptive daydreaming, to escape the reality of life to enter your own. Please do enjoy!
Emilija Mar 2023
I’ve gone over tiktok, then instagram, then tiktok then
facebook and no sign
no sign of you, this is odd that you would
after a year of dumping me with no contact,
saying you are happy with her,
that you’d stay gone, today as well.

Oh I know .
I know one does not love like I love if one
has not got damage, you feel so sweet in my
head; in real life, I might push you
away, in here you are mine, forehead pressed
to me, mine, I keep
your heart in the palm
of my hands, like
a baby bird, I keep it
gently, I could
break its bones
real easy, I would
never,

in real life you hold my head,
a sickly child all over
again, I cannot
hide my eyes and pretend
I am invisible like I did
then, I know

you have seen me, you have seen me
and you will not say the words;
when you do not
speak them, I want to die, you
call me friend, in real
life you frighten, you
do not want me, or that’s
not what you said, you said
you want me but

can’t choose me over her, said
you were happy, now here
I am, here, it’s been so long
you’ve crushed it and still,
somehow it
pumps, I

dreamed briefly of
crashing into rocks
instead of you, not

for you, for men,
all lovers betray,
I still have the note,
sits hollow and quiet, in
my google docs, IN CASE
I **** MYSELF, I edit it
sometimes, add people, it's
in comic sans, just to
**** with you all,

but days like today I imagine
I imagine you and forget you are
not coming back ever,
ever, not as a friend,
not as a lover, not
ever
not coming back, ever

I watch videos of me imagining
your reaction,

look at angel numbers, google the meaning, and
twin flames,  

when there’s nothing to hold on to -
I invent it. I hate that I am like this,
it’s why I survived.

I hate that I am like this,

how I love you is not
normal, one should
not love like this, It's
okay, I just need
to **** the hope, I need
to make the hope stop.
alexis wansor Dec 2021
Don't imagine what it's like to be with me
Because I'm not an easy person to be with
I will tell you I won't cheat
But you will think I am lieing
I will not make you feel secure
Because when you ask me about my day
Or why I dropped off the face of the earth for hours on end
I will tell you I don't remember
And I'm only partially lieing
because I don't want to tell you that my mind was in the clouds and the characters in my head i find more important than you
But don't take this personally because I don't find many in reality more important than the people I dream up
So while you assume I'm cheating I'm digging craters in my bedroom floor pacing around my room talking to myself
But I'll tell you I don't remember
Because that's so much easier than explaining the turmoil going on in my brain
Jane Smith Apr 2021
I joined a support group,
Like I told myself to.
We lurk in the shadows of the evening.
If you glance around the circle,
You can tell each person’s real age by what they say,
Like the rings in their throats.
While they uncomfortably clear their throats.
And it’s so,
Unfathomably depressing,
To sit there and think,
Is this all life is?
The hot glare of the sunlight,
Enveloping your shoulders and it’s uncomfortable.
And it's your turn,
And you do exactly what you’re trying to stop,
Run face first into the calm of the storm,
Pleading, like a lost son,
Take me.
And she takes you back, like she always does.
And you get up and leave.
Jane Smith Apr 2021
We embraced each other,
Holding on as if we had survived the revelation.
Celebration and wishes,
Scattered across your dress.
Sweet alyssum flowers,
Pinned up in my hair.
And you laughed,
And I cried,
And the band played in D minor.
Faith like utter lunacy.
All this, and more,
I dreamt with dew on the window,
So tired of dreaming.
And you walked away,
As I assured you I’d be fine.
That recovery was in my grasp.
Spoiler alert.
pandemoniac Apr 2021
silent poet thinking words,
never i must write
lucid wretched loving words
all bark and half the bite

silent poet thinking thoughts
the ink refused to make
mind and pen are separate
an unyeilding opaque

if i tell the tale to you
of love and praise and good
you'd laugh and laugh and laugh some more
naive misunderstood

my mind a chasm of infinite good
the world dichotomous strange
the vines do seize me gently
to a velvet padded cage

my head is a bed of roses
the thorns pierce me not
i am safe and free and happy
delusional, deep in thought

**** me softly
make me smile
your intoxicating
rapt exile

silent poet thinking thoughts
writes symphonies in his head
the writer and the audience
will dance until they're dead

silent poet thinking words
is struck by stockholm syndrome
perfect captor perfect world
illusion is his home
why am i not a good story-teller if all i do is daydream?
Nicole Jul 2020
Lusting lies
Soulful cries
It was not in the book
I made it up in my mind
Maladaptive daydreaming...
Tell me not to speak
But I never seem to listen,
I make the same mistakes and the same mistakes, I guess hoping I am forgiven.

I should have been quiet,
I should have obeyed what I always remember,
That I should keep it to myself and pretend everything’s hidden.

Imagine myself losing my mind,
I think half the feelings are real,
But not to breaking point:
(Even if I want to) I’m not screaming at the walls,
I’m not crying all day,
I’m not trying to get through to them whilst acting insane.

Multiple times I’ve told myself,
To pretend I never think of this,
Maybe they’ll forget, think you’ve slipped out of it.
I was never someone who didn’t express,
But now it’s always failing;
Few things I need and am not getting.
Where are you?
You’re not coming are you?

It’s okay,
I always knew you wouldn’t.
It’s just, there’s this stupid,
Childish
Part of me that likes to fantasise.
She knows you’re no good for her really,
But she imagines it’s all make-believe,
She captures her wildest, strangest dreams
And forges them into some kind of reality.

It’s sick though,
Because that little girl;
You can do anything to her
(Anything at all),
And guess what?
She’ll always forgive you.
She has it stuck in her head,
That she always needs to try again:
It’s as if she owes them all,
Even though she’s the one who took the fall.

I don’t know why she’s still here though,
Waiting.
She doesn’t want you anyway.
She could find herself someone much better to love,
Someone who’s worthy and won’t leave her
Before they had the chance to stay.
Then again,
That’s also just another twisted hopeful dream.
Breeze-Mist Nov 2018
The maladaptive is attractive to those like me
Isn't there a world where you'd rather be
Hours of daydreams at the expense of living
Is worth it for a world more solvable and forgiving
Infection, hiding scars, and makeshift bandages
Are worth it for the focus and the high's advantages
Anonymous self depreciation like a digital confession
Is worth it for hiding my distracted depression
Wandering around with thoughts of the end
Before I start to face down what's going on in my head
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