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abi Jan 2019
depression is a civil war. you're essentially fighting yourself. and i don't mean that you are your mental illness. i mean your mental illness is you. it's just as much you as your brain or your heart. it's made of the same molecules that make up the skin on the back of your hand. (but for the record, nobody really knows that anything is made of molecules. it's all a construct of humankind's perception to their observations). my point is, fighting in a war with a predetermined winner seems pointless and unfair. but when you actually are fighting it, you don't know which part of you will win. but you do know you will win. sometimes, the mental illness wins. sometimes you lose your war. and that's okay. you never really can win your war. you simply dominate your mental illness. dominance can be overthrown. don't believe me? i dominated my mental illness. but here i am. writing an essay in the form of a poem. and since something changed along the way, i've been thinking about this civil war. i've known for a while that i was fighting it. so why am i just now deciding i'm going to choose when and how my blood stops flowing through these veins covered in beautiful scars. the answer is overthrown dominance. you can try every coping skill, every drug, every conversation, but that only masks the war. it doesn't get rid of your mental illness. it only helps you dominate. dominance can be overthrown. i know i sound bleak and hopeless. but it's the truth. some people can dominate until they die of other things. but they never win their war. but they don't lose it. no dosage of any drug can fix your chemical imbalance. i say it like that because that's what it is. it's the same as if you had an imbalance in your blood cells. but for some people with mental illnesses, it's controllable with a pill. when you look at the science behind it, the pill stimulates your nerves to send a signal to a gland in your brain to release serotonin or dopamine, therefore balancing out the chemicals. but if the person forgets their pill, their chemicals are still imbalanced. you can never really **** a mental illness. but it can **** you. and that's terrifying.
abi Sep 2018
i had a talk with creativity last night.
i asked it why it comes and goes
it replied
“why does the sun come up and go down every day”
i didn’t know.
“well, soon you’ll learn that
leaving and coming back
really makes it worth something”
creativity left and hasn’t come back yet.
i wonder if it’s waiting for me to
learn that leaving and coming back
really makes it worth something
  Sep 2018 abi
andromeda green
Are you okay?
Are you alright, are you fine, are you good?
Are you adequate, are you decent?
Are you emotionally stable, sleeping without crying, smiling because you want to?
Are you breathing without questioning, are you waking up without trying, are you eating without throwing up?
Are you reading this poem right now and thinking no?
Are you thinking for the first time, will I ever be okay?

You will be okay.
You will be alright, you will be fine, you will be good.
You will be adequate, you will be decent.
You will be emotionally stable, you will sleep without crying, and smile for the happiness blooming inside of you.
You will breathe without questioning, you will wake up to a new day, you will eat easily
are going to be okay.
So please smile sunshine
It’s a fine new day
To be okay :)

- a.g.
just a reminder that everything gets better folks. please, please hang in there. i believe in each and one of y'all.

UPDATE: thank you so so so much for 51k. the overwhelming amount of comments and messages and loves make me feel so happy to spread this poem. thank you.
  Sep 2018 abi
Jey Blu
I miss you kid
I miss your sarcastic comments
I miss the way you frustrate yourself doing your hair
I miss your obsessions
I miss our song
I miss dancing in my room to your cds
I miss fighting with you over stupid things
I miss your chipped nails
I miss your glasses too far down your nose
I miss your references
I miss knowing all your crushes
I miss teasing you
I miss you teasing me
I miss **** date or marry
I miss your goody two shoes side
I miss your rebel side
I miss how proud you were of yourself
I miss your old confidence
I miss doing your makeup
I miss laying down and looking at the clouds
I miss everything
I missed you growing up
I missed you changing
I missed you becoming who you're not
You're gonna be in seventh grade in 6 months
And I'm not sure if I'll be there to see you off
I just want to be back with you
It's so scary being alone at that house, I know
I'm so proud of you and I love you
Stay strong kiddo
I hope you see this Abby

Update: She did
abi Aug 2018
never get comfortable with mental illness
it is not your friend
it is a force you must fight
I know the heat is like home
burning embers on your flesh and
you know you're alive but
you can't let it consume
all the crevices of you because
there is life where water runs
cool across your feet
rapid and royal it
breathes life into your bones
unlike this smoke that smothers you
like wool on a warm night.
never get comfortable with mental illness
or it'll steal your soul when
you least suspect it so
seek the light
brave like morning
bursting through darkness and
hold on for the new
if the sun can do it
so can you.
  Aug 2018 abi
Hannah Christina
Anything can
look like a poem
and sound philosophical
simply by moving
the words on
different lines.

Am I doing it right?
Is this

I think I am trying.
Really, I am
I go back and change the order
and I break lines
where it sounds right
But it does not take me long.
Not at all.

I try to be
and call it natural rhythm.
Instinct and style taking over
I alternate between
agonizing every detail
like When to Capitalize
and publishing free form poems without looking over them twice.

How is writing supposed to feel?
Should I labor?
or should it flow?
Or do I get to decide?

I think the things I talk of
mean something
at least.

But am I just

fooling myself into thinking that
using common poetry formats
somehow makes my work worthwhile?
Problems only We True Artists face.
abi Aug 2018
when i close my eyes
all i see is silence.
i want to see more
but my quiet mind
hides my thoughts.

then they come rushing back and
they’re worse than ever before and
it hurts.

i cry
i break
i heal
i wait
for the silence
to come back
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