The unexplainable, bubbling sensation,
Of staring at a blank doc searching.
They call it young writer’s frustration
But I call it creativity yearning,
For answers that can’t be found.
The longer I look the harder it gets.
Isn’t it profound,
The more I see the more I forget.
That I’m a writer with skill,
With the pen as my powerful weapon.
Yet I lack the will,
To get the last two lines of this poem done.

No matter how far you've run
Doesn't even matter what you drink
Or just get ******
It will just come back to the way it were
Keep on dodging
Escape like the wind blows
But comes back as fast as the river flows
Run to the infinite puzzle if answers are not found
It's a maze that keeps us running in circles
Solutions are as taught as crystal rock
Still you know the answers are there
We just have to stop evading
And face it with courage.

Some people...

If all they know is how to be broken
despite all efforts;
they are not the fix for you
nor yours to keep on fixing.

i ran out of therapy and never went back.
no, it wasn't because i was afraid to talk about my problems
talk to me, talk to me about my anxiety and depression
talk to me about the slight hint of an eating disorder which i've carried in my sleeve ever since i was ten years old
talk to me about my fear of men and my need for their approval
i know my demons and i know them well,
i don't need to hide from them
i learnt how to face them ever since they stared back at me whenever i looked in the mirror and got tangled in the curls of my hair and i'm assuming they're hidden in the knots of my mind too

i ran out of therapy and never went back not because of my diseases but because of the fear of never finding a cure
you see i've tried the pills and i've tried the "lifestyle changes" and the yoga and meditation and all that
i've tried enduring it, i've tried ignoring it, i've tried fighting it
i've numbed it, i've hurt it, i've eaten it whole
but i've never tried to talk it out to a soul that has the potential to understand my soul
i talked to my best friend who recognized my demons because they inflict(ed?) her too and she listened and helped but she couldn't fix me, you understand?
and so i talked to my mom and she was a kind soul until she wasn't and said i was an ungrateful *****
then there was my favorite teacher who told me i needed help and that he wasn't equipped to do so
my boyfriend is still in denial, i think,
he listens though, a lot

but at the end of every failed attempt at a cure lies the same suggestions
"talk to someone, get therapy"
and i let myself believe that that was where the problem to all my solutions
no, sorry, i mean the solution to all my problems was
so i always had a back up, you see?
i always knew that when the sleeping pills didn't help me sleep
and when the yoga position did nothing more than pull a muscle
i always had a back up,
i'd call the therapist
i'd pull out the bigguns
and i'd be ok
because she had all the solutions
(the therapist has to be a girl, remember my fear of men?)
so the therapist always had all the solutions and so if i ever needed to be ok
i knew where to go

only that one day when stuff got bad
and i mean 4 hours in the ER with a morphine drip bad
i was sent to the therapist and ****
****
****
****
she was a good woman, you know?
a good woman with kids and a nice house and a cat and a dog who lived in harmony
all that great stuff
and she asked me about my family and all that
and i smiled and told her all that
and an hour and a half went past
and i felt really sleepy
like really sleepy
and still heavy and sad
and i said listen, woman, this costs way more than i can afford
so i need you to fix me in the next session
i'm sorry
she replies
in that therapist voice
(i HATE that voice)
i'm sorry
this will take months
weekly session
oh,
and you haven't paid yet
so please pay at the counter
and starting January
the fees for the sessions double
just a warning
then she led me out
and i saw her dog
and her cat
and her bookshelves
and they weren't the solution
they didn't help
there wasn't a magic pill
or if there was she didn't give it to me
and this would take time
time i didn't have
money i didn't have
i am not rich enough to be sick
i have work to do
i can't sit here and feel crap
i need a solution
i thought she was my solution
i thought she was my solution

i ran out of therapy and never went back
i tell myself the reason i'm still ****** in the head is because i didn't go through the whole course of therapy
that feel good
telling myself that feels good
because i still have a solution
my new solution is months of therapy
which i still haven't tried
and i never will
because i can't go to therapy and not get fixed
because i'll have nothing left then
i won't have hope then
i need hope now
i need hope more than cure now
so i think if i go to therapy long enough, i'll be cured
but i'll never go to therapy long enough
because i know somewhere inside that that isn't the answer
but i'll tell myself it is
i'll force myself to believe it is
ok therapy will help
when i spend the money and the time
it will it will
i will
be fixed
i can be fixed
there is hope.

Gaining faith it's the life to adapt,  situation's  

Waiting for the way I react praying and fighting that my angers not trapped,

Doubts trying but they won't succeed,

I'm rebuking that and it's guaranteed,

This is more then just poetry,

Stacking my plate but this is more than just groceries,

We hungry for this word ain't no stopping this energy,


Forgiving my enemies ain't no time for no memories,

I am more then just a Christian
this is more then just a religion,  

More like a addiction  that's covered in ambition,

I've been in love
(or thought I was)
twice now
and I'm only
twenty years old.

I've spent my entire life
practicing the art
of letting go
and I lost track of
my losses
because I've never
been good with
numbers.

I have
added,
subtracted,
divided
and solved
my way back
to you

countless of times

and this is how
I know I am

no good at math.