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subside the restless, crashing waves.

free my mind from this prison.

i am tired.
i am lost.
i've lost all meaning of the word, hope.

now, i just survive,
but only just...

egged on by the pluck and strike of the dancing tunes i force myself to listen to,
just to distract myself from all the raging stimuli.

emotion-sensory overload

perhaps, it's time i tried something new.
to stare into fear, and run it through...

maybe the little white pills aren't the boogyman,
the monster under my bed.

the monster is in my head,
and perhaps,
this little white pill...
just may put him away for a little while,
one day at a time.

subside the restless,
thoughts in my head.


~~~~~~~

this is my therapy.
so that i can breathe.

this one's not for you,
it's for me to read.
but if you really want to,
so can you.
LaFayette Oct 6
It’s really strange to pay you
To find out who I am in this head
Maybe I should just talk to a mirror
It would at least be cheaper

I came in to talk about suicide
And now we are all over the place
Now I have PTSD and a divorce
But at least I know why I’m crazy

What do you mean I’m not ready
To run out and find another wife?
I don’t see how too few months
Means I’m too messed up to love

Actually, you are probably right
I probably just need to find a lay
Be honest and forthright about me
But get the hell out of there after

Thanks for the session
It was certainly enlightening
I’m no less crazy then before
But now at least I know it
Kora Sani Sep 25
people seem to forget
how tiring it is;
telling your story from the beginning,
reliving all those moments;
even the ones you forgot
but still carry with you
so many hours to invest
just to bring a stranger up to date,
so they can understand why you are
the way you are
and why you fear
the things you fear
Meadow Sep 24
Uncertainly still lingers in the cracks of my future, but I am feeling so full.
So full of goodness and growth.
Optimisims and joy
I've grown so much from the me just a year ago.
I speak now.
I can speak.
Ive been gentle with myself, and allowing of rest.
I am feeling so full of acceptance and self- love.
Something I thought I didn't deserve.
Some days are so hard still, but I remember when I sat down in therapy the first time, and cried my eyes out begging to be healed and that I felt so broken.
Irreparable.
The words cut at my throat as I released them.
I never thought I'd make the growth that I have so far.
I feel like a full being.
I feel healed and capable of healing.
To all of you in rough times of stagnation or the cold swift waters of change
It will be ok.
Allow yourself time.
Change comes like warm water.
Unnoticed until submerged.
Raw 10 minute brain dump.
Thank you
What matters?
"Happiness"

Being a part of
The story
At the end of the day
Just remind
Never ever forget
To smile

Let's say
Let's try
Genre: Philosophical
Theme: Are you happy?
Author's Note:
How many times
You smiled?
How many times
You want to smile?
Were you the reason
To smile?
"You can join our group," he says,
"But only if you look everyone in the eyes."
I freeze.
Surely he is aware by now that the words
Autism Spectrum Disorder
In my chart were not placed there for fun?
Surely he is aware by now that finger twitching, body rocking,
     gaze avoiding
Are not for my frivolous pleasure?
Surely he is aware by now the absurdity of what he asks?
I am autistic.
Burning irritation of the eyes and panic aside,
Staring creepily into another human's eyeballs
Would render group a waste of time, no possibility to listen.
He knows this.
It is his prejudice that keeps him rooted to the spot.
I can feel the weight of his expectations boring into my forehead.
Explaining what it is to ask this of me,
I remind him that drawing this line would be excluding me because
Of my autism.
I tell him he would be losing a valuable participant,
A deep thinker, a creator, an avid listener.
I tell him he would be discriminating,
That I am protected by law.
Oh, no.
He budges not,
For he does not dislike autistic humans
So long as they act like they are Neurotypical,
So long as I pretend to be
Someone I am not.
Trout Sep 4
S
A list of words I cannot ever say
But I will have to say them every day
I am supposed to practice saying ice
Ice with spice and six o’clock
I will lie and say I did it all
But they all know my tongue will always fall

I googled it to find out what I do
My speech impediment is sadly true
I haven’t done anything about it since
My speech therapist gave me the final mint
I hated it, and it was all suppressed
But now I tell it, I always confess

I wonder if I do it without thought
Am I saying it right or am I not
And no one ever says a thing to me
(Except the boy I crushed on, that one week)
I don’t know if it changes who I am
But I’d still be better off talking like a normal man

It’s something that a lot of people have
But the harsher term makes me inexplicably glad
“Speech impediment”, now I’m special too
Deviancy just like my missing tooth

I always sing even though it sounds weird
Sometimes I avoid the words I’ve always feared
Not “just” the “sea” but “change”, “commotion” too
Especially when I read I’m conscious of how my tongue moves.
Not just that, but I spit and stutter
All my “spreading” is full of clutter
The judge says “Clear”, I have to try
But I could lose the debate, and feel like dying

I know I should grow out of it as a child
But habits stick after so many miles
Along with my disproportionately small hands
And legs and everything that makes me feel like no man’s land
Between a kid and the way I should be
At the age of seventeen
I wish it didn’t change who I am
(Is it just another reason I can’t find a man?)
What else could I do?

Every night I vocalize my troubles to the heavens, to the One that I know will always listen

these recurring problems never seem to end
taking in all the pain of the words you never fully thought of before hitting send

I grew accustomed to a life where the bad outweighs the good
yet I continue to be patient... I continue to be misunderstood.
"Phoebe talk to her she wishes you best, she wishes you well"
I know that's true and that I should not dwell
- but mother sometimes you speak so evil, like a demon straight out of
hell.
Happy anniversary
Up there in Hades
Funny that it's up
Or am I assuming
Either way
The first month's the worst
And the second's worse
I'm not quite sure
Just how that works
But that's okay
Because we are not
And I know what they do
Feels a little more
Like medieval torture
Than friendly therapy
But you'll be okay
I must admit
It isn't much
Of a way to live
But you'll get out someday
And see the sun again
And all your friends
Will shroud you
In all their love
And everything will be
Perfectly peachy
Awful how the system works, huh?
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