all night I'm wide awake
these feelings I can never fake
the emptiness, the nothingness
tearing me apart in darkness
half asleep and I'm in this portal
everything seems like crucial
vexations are turning on
emotions i can't hold on
it all comes down in one setting
narrow, shallow and i'm panting
obscure and i cannot comprehend
so vague that I cannot see the end
floating away with my dreams
all the hurt and all the screams
trapped in this four cornered wall
linked to my own shadow; left with nothing at all
the struggles of having anxiety.
My thoughts smash through my skull,
bursting forth with a stream of words
that I can neither control nor stop.
Why was I created this way?
It is still never what I want to say.
No, that is reserved for the paper in which
I spend my days hiding in.
Diving into the endless recesses of my mind
to scratch and dig and pick out
a single strand of pain that filters
through the rest of my body,
so that I can feel raw and unbridled
as I scratch ink on the paper
in a scrawl that is nearly ineligible
not even I can read it.
So instead I let my fingers
go numb from gliding across keys,
so that all may hear my scream
instead of taking that pen and inking my arm
in red, red ink.
So much ink that it passes my skin and bleeds into my veins
just to mingle with the blood
and flow back out in rejection
of all that I was, and all that I am.
Moments like these are the ones I wish I didn't miss.
They are the ones where my days are so
that I begin to think that death may be peaceful.
The moments when I can walk into a street
without looking both ways
and not care whether I make it to the other side.
These moments strip me of all happiness,
while a void that is so suffocating
I'd rather inhale liquid nitrogen
then continue the conversation I'm in, arrives.
When I can't feel the damp ground,
leaves crunch into my hair,
or the twigs digging into my feet
while I encase a corpse I didn't get to save.
The moments when things are as black as I imagine
I miss them.
Like an old friend,
or a form fitting pair of jeans
for me to walk around in
while I begin to miss the moments I feel alive.
I would appreciate some feedback from this one, because it is my first in a long time.
I raise my hand
Everyone else gets called on
I walk up to them
I want to talk to them
They turn to face me
And go over to talk to their real friends.
I wish I could blame other people for
But I can’t
It’s not worth it
To acknowledge me.
These other people are not to blame
These happy few
Who run the world
I am not one of them.
I envy them
Why are they so
But I don’t deserve your attention
I don’t deserve love
As much as a strive, I will never
Be worth it.
It’s not their fault
It’s not your fault
It’s my fault
I shouldn’t have been born.
I wonder why
My mother did not cast me aside
The moment she held me
The moment she knew I was wrong
What were her thoughts
In that moment?
Why did she think
I should be kept?
I think she thought she was
Doing me a favor
When in reality, she was only
Prolonging the inevitable.
Because of this,
I know who I am
Because of this,
I know I am worthless.
No one else knows this, though
I am surprised
I thought my inferiority oozed through my pores
But it doesn’t.
I thought they would be able to smell me
But they can’t
They look at me
And they do not know.
It seems that
I am so insignificant
No one can noticed my worthlessness.
I am insignificant
But I am here
Doomed to walk this Earth
It is my curse for living.
mistakes make us
make the same
i see an unalienable personality
that i can never give up
to climb a mountain
that goes on interminably
don't worry the end is near
all i need to do is stop climbing
I think she said to me:
"I only love half of you."
She doesn't remember.
Something I very much believe I heard from her last night.
I'm a broken car.
It's too expensive to fix me.
Worthlessness: The state of feeling unimportant and useless. This type of feeling is one that hits you directly in the center of your core, picking at your soul. One that makes your stomach feel saggy and your eyes like craters of the sea that over flows and blurs your sight.
Worthlessness is one that hinders the passing time as well your ability to move forward and it can come out of the void of extensive thinking.
It can cause your words to errupt and crackle off your tongue, only to be washed away by the heavy rain into a puddle of regret and sorrow.
All I see on the horizon is a dark blue hue that Cascades over the whole world.
All I feel is the bitter, frozen winds and the soft snow that numbs my skin.
All I can think of is black and grey clouds that wrap me up and block out any light that reaches out to me.
All that I receive for my rescue is a big brown ship that says "I'm sorry, the weight you carry is too much for us", then sails away, leaving me to drown in the middle of the ocean.
Why do I plan for the future,
When I won’t I’ve past twenty-one?
Why do I still bother trying,
When I just want life to be done?
They all say I’ll do great things,
Even though I can’t get out of bed,
So what’s the point in waking up,
When I feel I’d be better off dead?
Loneliness consumes my heart,
And sorrow consumes my soul,
So how can they see anything in me,
When my future’s as dark as coal?
They all say that they’d miss me,
But I know that they’ll be fine,
No one could ever miss,
A life as worthless as mine.
That got your attention
Even though I am a stranger
Who couldn't possibly know it to be true
And worth is subjective
Those who know you would disagree
And point out your merits
And you would weigh yourself
To realise that not all parts are equal
Who am I to say such things?
And yet you take the time to read it
Reread, incase you misread
In reading you contemplate it's truth
You are my puppet, and me your puppeteer
How could you be such a sheep!
Why are you amused?
Why does insult carry more meaning than praise?
It's easy to hurt.
Sticks and stones may break your bones
But words can make you think you deserved it.
We are social beings and so
We look for validation
But insult stands out
It leaves a branded mark in our brains
And so we spotlight it
It's easy to be sad.
But it's fulfilling to be happy.
Being positive is hard
But it's worth it in the end.
How could I possibly know?
But I do.
And soon you will too.
What are you doing now?
You are reading!
Now you are smiling.
Inspired by Dennis Willis's "You Are a Hallucination"
Sticks and stones line borrowed from xkcd's comic.