Talia: Poems

May 2017 · 941

I had a tough therapy session, can you listen?

Talia May 2017

I had a tough therapy session, can you listen?

I had a tough therapy session, can you listen?
She said, "Talia, you can't live in the psych ward."
But what am i supposed to do when every time i drive my car i have to pull over because i can't see anything but car accidents?
I'd never cried in front of my psychologist until she said that suicidal thoughts might be something i have to live with.
She said, this is bpd.
I said thank you.
She said that if i continue to purge at the rate i am going my heart will stop before i turn 18.
I couldn't help but think that i hope it does.

May 2017 · 504

Anxiety

Talia May 2017

Anxiety

Time expands and collapses and crumbles in my hands
I’m caught in a hurricane of thoughts refusing to escape my being
Insults created especially for me echo through the shell that i have become
I feel my legs bouncing like they’re convincing themselves to leave me
My stomach churns like the spin cycle on a washing machine
I’m tired of feeling empty yet so full and heavy that each step i take is a battle in and of itself because my legs alone are 10,000 insufferable pounds
I watch my chest rise and fall but it feels like an overweight white man is sitting directly on my lungs
I am consumed by the urge to cry out for help but my mouth has been sewn shut by your assumptions that each move i make is for attention.

May 2017 · 1.2k

a veces

Talia May 2017

a veces

Sometimes i want to take all 84 capsules of Prozac
and I find myself holding the bottles
Frequently i want to pry my veins open and watch the sadness pour out
And i find myself holding a razor blade
Occasionally i want to jump off of a building
And i find myself driving towards the city
Every so often I want to wrap my car around a tree
And i find myself letting go of the wheel
Once in a blue moon I feel too full and “you’re fat you’re fat you’re fat” reverberates around my skull
And i find myself kneeling on the bathroom floor
From time to time I forget to get out of bed
a week goes by and i find myself saying “i had the flu”
Now and then i avoid my homework
And find myself staring at 27 missing assignments
No matter how i say it, i always find myself reaching toward destruction and turning away from help
I have become comfortable living with my illness
We have become inseparable
Mostly because i forgot who i was before
And i can’t remember if i liked her.

— The End —