Recently “minutes” or recently “hours”?
Recently, minutes were reasonably ours.
Like how I “recently” saw him at the grocery store,
And “recently” went back, hoping I might again.

Sure, we spoke…
Recently.

So I logged on, recently,
Just to see what’s up.
That’s how it always is,
And the status is always the same:
“Recently”

Recently, I haven’t been feeling myself.
I feel like I’ve lost myself over the years.  

There are more times of me feeling hollow, empty than of me being happy.  I don’t know how to explain it.  Nor do I even know how to fill that hole.  

People say that it’ll get better.  
                            What will? When? Why did it happen?

People say that things will change.
                            For better?  No. You don’t know that.

Often, I look out the window and imagine an alternate world.  Some place where I would be smarter.  Prettier.  Liked more.  Better.  

That wish might overlap with some people.

Being a Marvel fan, I always wanted to have Spider-Man powers.  And maybe a piece or fragment of Tony Stark’s intelligence and creativity.  

Creativity that I had lost over the years.  Intelligence that I never had to begin with.  Powers or abilities to make me proud of who I am.  Now I have none of those and the only thing that is left of me is the empty shell and the mask that I wear to hide.. me.

-

I’m not proud of myself.  Nor are my parents.  Not even my friends.  If they were to know who I was.  I hide behind smiles and jokes.  I use your humor as a way of keeping people at a distance.  

No, my parents aren’t divorced.  No, I’m not disabled.  
Yes, I attend a fairly good school.  Yes, I have good people around me.  

Despite all the good things I have, I can’t stop feeling. Useless. Worthless. Not enough.  I don’t feel motivated to do anything.  I feel like the part of me that wants everything to end is taking over me day by day.  I sometimes want to jump out of the window but I fear pain.  I’m weak.  I want to buy pills and swallow the whole bottle but I don’t know what pills to buy.  It’s hard to get ahold on them here in Japan.  Should I burn everything I own before I die?  Or disappear after selling everything?  

I feel the need to do so so that my parents don’t have anything to look back on.  So they wouldn’t have to feel so ashamed about having me as a daughter.  I cry often now.  My father tells me that I did this to myself.  Bad grades.  Bad friendships.  No motivation.  I’ve disappointed many people in my life.  I cry feeling sorry for myself even though I have dug my own grave.  

I somehow never seem to learn.  I think there’s something wrong with me.  I’ve been telling my parents there’s something wrong with me but they just tell me I’m making up things.  Excusing myself from the reality that I am a disappointment.  That I messed up.  That I am dumb.  Useless.  I will never amount to anything.  I am hollow.  I am but a shadow of everyone else that used to be friends with me.  

I am not writing this for hope that I will change.  I just feel the need to put this out there.  Not for help.  I don’t seek help anymore.  Nothing will ever change.  

Some say, “Not with that attitude” but I’m tired of hearing those words.  I’ve already made and broken so many promises that I am not worthy of change.  Or a miracle.  I sometimes wish that whenever I go out to buy groceries, a car or truck will hit me.  I wish for an accident to happen so that I will die.  Or that something drastic would happen to me so that I will be away from everything.  Possibly in a hospital bed.  Possibly dying on the side of the road.  Possibly giving me a disability so that I could finally have an excuse of being who I am.  

I’ve imagined people at my funeral.  Not many will be there.  And even those who attend, will have never known the real me.  My true feelings.  About my friends, parents, education—everything and anything.  

I am writing this because I can’t tell anyone about this.  I understand that it doesn’t make sense.  Don’t worry about posting comments on this.  I will be glad that it has been read.  Although it was long.  I don’t know who you are or what you have been through.  I apologize for taking up your time.  

I don’t know what I am.  Who I am.  What I will be in the future.  I know nothing.

Less and less I’m getting human
At the back of my tongue,
The more I bite of
People’s thoughts;
Here prevails a taste of plastic
Be it cooked, or be it raw

i'm eighteen and
my mind is running away

you're screaming
ranting and raving
but don't know you're
doing it and don't know
that i'm crawling
inside a cave where
nothing can touch me
except wanting to die

you were grumbling after
dinner that i don't talk
to anybody anymore
but you don't know that i'm
not lacking words i'm just
lacking the energy
that it would take to
use any of them

(flashbacks to all the times recently
you've complained i don't love you
anymore. to my whole lifetime of
wondering if you loved me at all)

i'm thirteen and
unaware of my anxiety
associated with existence
usually put in in writing as
"pressure". but you don't think
there's anyone pressuring me

i talk too much to too
many people and have
been hurt before. but
never in that abject
way of it being because
i set myself up for it

(emotions so haywire that i end
up hospitalized over a box of
broken cd cases. now that i
remember it i was rage cleaning
and would unquestionably have
an even worse reaction today)

i'm seven and
having another ocular
migraine even though
i don't know it

(the past as as brittle as the
uncooked spaghetti filched
from the box and wedging
between my crooked teeth)

my memory fails me
whether you steamed
your way through preparing
dinner in the kitchen of faded
herbal wallpaper with words
and woodgrain. if i've been
tuning it out all this time
only to notice recently

("you're just like me" you said today
my seven-year old self thinks that's cool
while my current self is wishing to
deck someone while saying nothing)

today and tonight when intrusive
memories keep coming back is when i
remember that if i don't automatically
see things from your side there will
be a row. despite the fact you have
never investigated my perspective

(you're complaining about how
badly you sleep and how it's my
fault for waking you up at
four a.m. but did you ever stop
to ask why the ******* your
daughter is awake at four a.m.)

"my whole body hurts" you said
having taken some chronic
illnesses for some light grocery
shopping and attend a reception
"so does mine" i said
having taken a dark cloud
with me to work and
a panic attack to the library
"mine hurts worse" you replied
"and how do you know that" i demanded
sweeping my sadness off the kitchen table
"because i just do"

i guess your problem is that you
don't know how to be in pain without
minimizing mine but how hypocritical
when i'm over here minimizing
your pain to justify the fact that
my brain is trying to **** my body

(one of these days i fear what
i don't say will get the best
of me and i will crack clean
in two. start screaming
through doors death threats
ending in quadruple homicide
accompanied by my own
swinging body. it's not that
i hate everyone i just hate
feeling like i hate everyone)

but for now i'm investigating the perspective
so startlingly clear that you never loved me
just did what was required of you and so by that
standard i never would have loved you either

Hello followers and likers
I feel like I owe you guys an apology for not putting any poems up
On Saturday and Sunday, possibly Friday
I will post more poems that I have been working on
I hope you will enjoy them

recently
ive been feeling
alone
and not just the lonley
where your lacking a person
or a presence
an alone where you cant feel anything
and it feels like your stomach
is droping from the top of a rollercoaster
and it is because of you

you, you, you, you, everyone

and i hate it. i cannot change it

i have no control
and i like having control
over my own emotions
i cannot feel anything
my brain
is in a soft fuzzy blanket
i cannot feel
my stomach
the acid burns it numb
and my heart
it has stopped
dead in my throat
my eyes
have become blind
by the boiling aogny flowing out
my mouth
the words gushing out
cut it, emotions choking me

i long
to not be able to feel
because numbness
is

  forever


          agony

recently i've been hopeless

desperately
hopeless

but

strangely enough

i feel myself

hoping

yes, that's what i am:

hopeless but hoping

I think I want to plant a garden in life
I want to start with beans: Beaning helpful, Beaning kind
Beaning thoughtful, I hope you don't mind
This Garden, I plan to share and you can join me if you care

Keep  in mind we need to ****: **** out Anger, **** out strife, that threatens to choke out our delicate plants

Next maybe we can try some Squash, squash out prejudice
Squash out greed by helping those in need, it don't always take money to lend a helping hand, just lend a listening ear or any special way only you can, and perhaps we will all grow in a more peaceful land  

Maybe if we call work together it will tomato to many people and they too will help us plant this garden and don't forget the water which joins us a together in this garden of life and the water is Love,
I hope to meet you in the garden, there is always room for more understanding and together we can discover what great things the garden can bring