#selfconcept - Hello Poetry

At this stage, I have to wonder just what the hell is going on. Climbing, searching, reaching takes everything I’ve got, and I need to know how much longer my stamina will hold. I want someone to walk beside me, talk to me about the journey, hold my hand and lead me when I fall behind, don’t want to go on. Outside, I guess it seems I’m strong, but on the inside of me is nothing but vapor, mist, cotton candy. It’s as though I’m in a play about a facade about a sham about a farce about myself. Everything is a set, a scene, an unsolvable puzzle, and I’m the missing piece. Do I like what I have become … illusion – falsehood – shell? I think not.

0

Jul 24, 2020

Jul 24, 2020 at 4:44 PM UTC

t-todd-1

Inside Out

At this stage, I have to wonder just what the hell is going on. Climbing, searching, reaching takes everything I’ve got, and I need to know how much longer my stamina will hold. I want someone to walk beside me, talk to me about the journey, hold my hand and lead me when I fall behind, don’t want to go on. Outside, I guess it seems I’m strong, but on the inside of me is nothing but vapor, mist, cotton candy. It’s as though I’m in a play about a facade about a sham about a farce about myself. Everything is a set, a scene, an unsolvable puzzle, and I’m the missing piece. Do I like what I have become … illusion – falsehood – shell? I think not.

20

There is no point in living this life unless you find someone or something to love. A person who you would want to spend the rest of your life with or an occupation that you are passionate about. Weirdly enough, the famous song of Bon Jovi is also true—too much love will **** you. But maybe, this should be seen from a love recipient's perspective. We all want to feel loved. Especially when everything else hates you—like Math, music, or your very own biological family who you live with under one small **** roof—finding love is really just a lucky event. However, it will soon overwhelm you. You would think that you do not deserve the joy and happiness that you feel when you are with this person. Soon, you will think that he is too good for you. You might also think, "Why would he even want to spend more time with me when I am such a mentally unstable, emotionally broken, and pitifully toxic ***** Be careful what you wish for. One might not be ready to receive the love that is being given to us. It feels as if it's ******* life and love from this dearest person and you have nothing to give. This person is so full of love and you are full of filth. And it fills you with guilt that you can never make the person feel the same. Soon, you would think that he would walk away—the best person with the kindest heart, the best love of your life, the ******* best—because you have ****** and licked clean his jar of love and you gave nothing in return. Funny thing is that you don't even ask for him to love you. He just does. And that becomes more painful than ever. Having that thought in mind makes you just want to leave to prevent the heartache and the burn out which the love of your life will suffer from. But you do not have the strength to break up with him because that kind of blow would be too hard that you would painfully hurt him. It seems as if having him burned out is the better way to "break up" with him because at least you think that it would be his decision to leave. It gives you this sick comfort that he left and you have confirmed your filthy self-concept. You have confirmed how undeserving you are and proved that you are the worst person to be with him. But, he still stays. He still stays despite all your filth being thrown at his clean self. You have shown most of your darkest thoughts and he still chooses to stay. And it hurts you more because it would now be too hard to break up with him and hurt him because now you care more and this person has become the person who is preventing you to quit life. He is a hindrance between your wrist and that small, sharp blade that will surely deliver what you think you deserve. You clearly still do not have the strength to let him go that quickly (sick selfish wimp). Now, you are stuck with a dilemma and all you can do is cry your eyes out. It's the only cathartic way that will allow you live another day for him until the day he gives up. It seems chaotic now. Everything else is falling apart from this one man who stands in the midst—all clean and smiling—offering you a nicer future. You are not sure whether to take the hand or the blade. But, tonight, you take the hand yet you keep the blade in your pocket. Now, you carry it around while you walk with him hand in hand. And now, you just made your situation almost impossible to solve.

0

Jan 7, 2019

Jan 7, 2019 at 11:27 AM UTC

formysanitynow

The Blade In My Pocket

There is no point in living this life unless you find someone or something to love. A person who you would want to spend the rest of your life with or an occupation that you are passionate about. Weirdly enough, the famous song of Bon Jovi is also true—too much love will **** you. But maybe, this should be seen from a love recipient's perspective. We all want to feel loved. Especially when everything else hates you—like Math, music, or your very own biological family who you live with under one small **** roof—finding love is really just a lucky event. However, it will soon overwhelm you. You would think that you do not deserve the joy and happiness that you feel when you are with this person. Soon, you will think that he is too good for you. You might also think, "Why would he even want to spend more time with me when I am such a mentally unstable, emotionally broken, and pitifully toxic ***** Be careful what you wish for. One might not be ready to receive the love that is being given to us. It feels as if it's ******* life and love from this dearest person and you have nothing to give. This person is so full of love and you are full of filth. And it fills you with guilt that you can never make the person feel the same. Soon, you would think that he would walk away—the best person with the kindest heart, the best love of your life, the ******* best—because you have ****** and licked clean his jar of love and you gave nothing in return. Funny thing is that you don't even ask for him to love you. He just does. And that becomes more painful than ever. Having that thought in mind makes you just want to leave to prevent the heartache and the burn out which the love of your life will suffer from. But you do not have the strength to break up with him because that kind of blow would be too hard that you would painfully hurt him. It seems as if having him burned out is the better way to "break up" with him because at least you think that it would be his decision to leave. It gives you this sick comfort that he left and you have confirmed your filthy self-concept. You have confirmed how undeserving you are and proved that you are the worst person to be with him. But, he still stays. He still stays despite all your filth being thrown at his clean self. You have shown most of your darkest thoughts and he still chooses to stay. And it hurts you more because it would now be too hard to break up with him and hurt him because now you care more and this person has become the person who is preventing you to quit life. He is a hindrance between your wrist and that small, sharp blade that will surely deliver what you think you deserve. You clearly still do not have the strength to let him go that quickly (sick selfish wimp). Now, you are stuck with a dilemma and all you can do is cry your eyes out. It's the only cathartic way that will allow you live another day for him until the day he gives up. It seems chaotic now. Everything else is falling apart from this one man who stands in the midst—all clean and smiling—offering you a nicer future. You are not sure whether to take the hand or the blade. But, tonight, you take the hand yet you keep the blade in your pocket. Now, you carry it around while you walk with him hand in hand. And now, you just made your situation almost impossible to solve.

9

Self-effacement With time names and dates engraved on headstones weather beneath pelting sleet and rain to soften carefully chiseled letters Little by little etchings become blurred at the edges indistinct and unreadable Personality features fade daily hidden with words structured into facades readily available as a cover from those who wish to unearth the treasures within What a struggle to hide to mute or soften eccentricities into normalities What an effort continual concealment behind frights and fears as though a child playing hide-and-go seek with others Self-effacement becomes a life-style of constantly playing a game without a prize

0

Jun 26, 2017

Jun 26, 2017 at 6:51 PM UTC

william-a-poppen

Effacement

Self-effacement With time names and dates engraved on headstones weather beneath pelting sleet and rain to soften carefully chiseled letters Little by little etchings become blurred at the edges indistinct and unreadable Personality features fade daily hidden with words structured into facades readily available as a cover from those who wish to unearth the treasures within What a struggle to hide to mute or soften eccentricities into normalities What an effort continual concealment behind frights and fears as though a child playing hide-and-go seek with others Self-effacement becomes a life-style of constantly playing a game without a prize

27

Today is better than last night for now the delicate cords held within my throat do not refuse air its passage through them for anything more than the oxygen it carries even though all I was wanting to do was scream. Today is better than last night for now my sight is clear - free of the tears which could not fall due to the dam I built too high and too well who's retribution was to refract my guiding lights into nonsensical shapes which could offer no comfort. Today is better than last night for now the sharp daggers of keratin are not biting at my skin frantically trying to purify me of this rotting flesh which coats my bones, and my mind is past not being able to wrap its tendrils about the idea of people possibly loving this wretched creature I have become... Or perhaps it did wrap around that fragile concept but instead of absorbing it those vines of the rose garden of my mind stayed true to form and grew thorns to pierce and tear at the idea like my nails once did to this alabaster canvas while holding as tightly as doubt sometimes holds my lungs keeping me from breathing, but this concept is more breakable then my lungs... And so it was crushed into stardust. The same stardust that comprises or bodies because every element of our bodies is created within our guiding lights we wish upon. And I see that sparkle of stardust every day in each of your eyes. I see it in everyone's eyes.. except my own... And it makes me wonder if maybe dad was right and some people are just made of a different type of dust. A dust comprised from the ashes of hell itself which will forever smolder but never more catch aflame... The ashes filed with the agonies of those souls which lost themselves in the madness and feel into the eternal night.

0

Feb 28, 2016

Feb 28, 2016 at 6:17 PM UTC

EtherealOmega

Today is Better

Today is better than last night for now the delicate cords held within my throat do not refuse air its passage through them for anything more than the oxygen it carries even though all I was wanting to do was scream. Today is better than last night for now my sight is clear - free of the tears which could not fall due to the dam I built too high and too well who's retribution was to refract my guiding lights into nonsensical shapes which could offer no comfort. Today is better than last night for now the sharp daggers of keratin are not biting at my skin frantically trying to purify me of this rotting flesh which coats my bones, and my mind is past not being able to wrap its tendrils about the idea of people possibly loving this wretched creature I have become... Or perhaps it did wrap around that fragile concept but instead of absorbing it those vines of the rose garden of my mind stayed true to form and grew thorns to pierce and tear at the idea like my nails once did to this alabaster canvas while holding as tightly as doubt sometimes holds my lungs keeping me from breathing, but this concept is more breakable then my lungs... And so it was crushed into stardust. The same stardust that comprises or bodies because every element of our bodies is created within our guiding lights we wish upon. And I see that sparkle of stardust every day in each of your eyes. I see it in everyone's eyes.. except my own... And it makes me wonder if maybe dad was right and some people are just made of a different type of dust. A dust comprised from the ashes of hell itself which will forever smolder but never more catch aflame... The ashes filed with the agonies of those souls which lost themselves in the madness and feel into the eternal night.

3