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Perdue Poems Apr 7
Ticking Tocking never stopping
Beeping Booping always bopping
Never stopping, always going
Ticking Tocking Beeping Booping

Sliding Slipping never ending
Scratching Scrawling always working
Never ending always weeping
Sliding Slipping Scratching Scrawling

Clicking Clacking never ceasing
Flipping Flashing always blending
Never ceasing always numbing
Clicking Clacking Flipping Flashing

Pulling Praying never halting
Wanting Wishing always failing
Never halting always craving
Ticking Sliding Clicking Pulling
Brian Yule Mar 10
Pay dirt
Eyes her target
Sit just so & sit tight
Let him think that he's the hunter, then
******* fish
Invisible people
Figment of my imagination
Borrowed in my subconscious
touching and reaching
grabbing and pulling
whispering and fueling
Fear and doubt
Insecurities and pain
Every second
Of every day.

Their whispers
perforates my self-esteem
withers my self-belief
deteriorates my self-image.

My mind feels like a battlefield
A constant fight of not caring
of what they think
or say.

For there are days
When I set my mind
In to prioritizing my moment
passion, purpose, fun, and life
And not care.

But some days
they encroach into my mind
Seep through the cracks
Diffuse between the synapses
firing terror.

Letting me stare once more
at my own abyss.
Elizabeth Zenk Oct 2018
Our lives are like boats.
Everyone is crafted differently.
You can be built perfectly.
Have everything be in check.
And still be weighed down by anchors nobody can see.
Nobody can see you
s
i
n
k
i
n
g
Isaac Sep 2018
this world will spin
mankind will buzz
people will die
new eras will begin
our graves wait
pulling us steadily
with the rope of time
some long
some short
some very short
which could be you
so do not live
without this truth
in your mind
and in your
heart
Written 11 August 2018
Pure of Stars Aug 2018
it pulls me in
as my consciousness disappears
i start to realize
that i don’t know
if i am alive
or just slowly dying
depression keeps tugging me into this darkness. suddenly i don’t want to be around anyone. i just want to be alone. yet i’m tired of being lonely. please talk to someone if you feel this way. please let me know that i’m not alone...
Grace Oct 2017
Today is the day
National mental health day
One of the many days I regret

I should speak out
I want to
But my mental illness has me chained
So instead I pull
Pull my way closer
But the chains keep me back

Closer to the truth
Closer to the hesitation

For me, pulling is my release
I read online that the rough ones-
With black bulbs were bad ones
The “wicked witch” ones
So I started

Pulling out my fears,
Doubts,
Insecurities
From my head- one by one

Until I laid there helpless
In a cloud of my mistakes
Somehow seeing all my worries in front of me didn’t make them go away

Instead, I became more aware
More aware of my failures
For the unknown future that lies in store
One by one

October 23, 2016
I kept the receipts
A friend- not a close one, more of those friends of friends
She chose me to tell her story to
She was *****
By a guy we all knew and trusted
A “good guy”
I lent her an ear, or rather a willing text
I thanked her for her bravery
For allowing me to be a small fraction of her story of overcoming
I might be one of twenty she told, or maybe just two

I don’t know. I may never know.
But what she may not know is that night
She became my one
Someone I knew almost nothing about
I told her my story and asked how she told her first

I hoped of getting some of her strength through some sort of Twitter DM telepathy
Alas you can’t gift strength like that
Oh God, I wish you could
I go back and read those messages all the time trying

I read my TimeHop every day
Sometimes for the memories
But more often than not they bring back the nightmares
I do it for the relief
The streak number tick ticking higher
Counting the days that have gone by
Or the hairs I’ve pulled

Tomorrow is National Coming Out Day
Is there a day like this for those who came out to their loved ones about their mental illness?
I will also not be participating.
My mental illness is keeping me from doing so
I am buried deep in my closet, hiding under clothes and forgotten tags
My fingers raking through the carpet
Finding that momentary release
The glorious relief lasting a moment
I run my fingers through the rough fibers searching for more

My family doesn’t know
Or if they do, they don’t want to break our perfect mold
I pull discretely
Around my head, just a receding hairline, no bald patches
Yet

I never get my haircut
At least, by a professional
The last time I went, my stylist said it was new growth
Not my past coming to haunt me.
She pulls at them showing me, calling them baby hairs
How do I tell her that each one represents shame, frustration, guilt
Each one represents one party, one good time with friends I’ve missed
Hiding behind those fears, covered in guilt
Back in my closeted mind

Sometimes, I wonder what would happen if I cut myself open
Would blood run out or the words I meant to say?
When it’s a bad day, I pull at large sections of my hair
Wondering what it would be like to rip it all out in two sections
It makes me cry in pain, but the voices tell me about the sweet relief it may bring
I almost give in

What hurts me the most is noticing the people around me who have it
Does the girl sitting in front of me know
One day she may have to get surgery
To remove the hairball in her stomach from eating at her hair?
I see her run it through her lips, feeling the same texture.

Does the boy, scratching away at his knuckles
Understand what’s underneath his skin?
I wonder what his blood would say
Would it tell my story?
Would it tell ours?
*trigger warning*
Ciel Jan 2016
I bare such useless emotions:
Sadness,
Loneliness,
Annoyance,
Jealousy,
Boredom,
Empt­iness,
This terrible feeling that I’m feeling right now,
This feeling that wants to rip me apart,
This feeling that’s clawing at me,
Tearing me to pieces,
Pulling at my flesh,
Pulling at my skin,
Pulling at my bones,
Trying to break me .
My soul wants an escape from this
Terrible
Useless
Useless
Useless
Prison that holds it captive.
Paige Aug 2015
Lately I find myself
wanting to talk about my
trichotillomania.
I think I want to find someone else
that knows what I'm going through.
I have never talked about it
on social media except one time.
And someone thought I had an
STD simply because they were
uninformed.
Embarrassed and ashamed
I quickly deleted it.
I shouldn't be ashamed.
Or embarrassed.
It's relevant. And real.

So, pretty much if you have trich
or just want someone to talk to
about it,
please comment or message me.
I know that isn't what this website is for,
But I feel most comfortable here.
And you can too.
Robyn Kekacs Feb 2015
Not like eggs in a frying pan
Prying them shyly as to not burn your breakfast
It's not like
the leaves as they're moisture dissipates
as their color fades
Its spine rolling forward, rolling up onto its edges,
Its legs.
It can be something like
The way a dress fits snugger
On your torso, when it looked so wide, laid flat.
The circumference, the girth, of a moment
Underestimated.

But if even water shrinks when frozen
How much smaller is my mind
when my molecules stop moving,
when my motives less inclined?

I'm not stepping back from ledges
I'm not broken, on the mend
I'm just pulling away from the edges
Pulling away again.
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