"overachieving" poems
If things workout be a step dad or get to stepping
Trying to be a boss tired of idiots above me
I've been good I can be better see more for myself
Elders dont want to give it up their time has passed
Self respect means trusting yourself not lusting
I've faced my fears hoping success is near by
Doing alright not straying too far
Not giving into temptation even if frustration is too overwhelming
Be better give your all over coming up short
Overachieving to come up average
Made my choice blockin out the voices that tell me otherwise
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 2:57 PM UTC
Is my body an issue?
Is it impossible to be loved the way I am?
With these voluminous waves
of body “for days”
Am I unlovable or is that absurd?
Is my personality an issue?
Is it too hard to love me as I am?
With this overachieving persona,
Am I just a effervescent loner?
Am I unlovable or is that ridiculous?
Is my face an issue?
Is it just too much effort to love me?
With these battle scars of adolescence,
Painted with the wrong message,
Am I unlovable or is that just pathetic?
May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 7:19 AM UTC
I never really felt as if
my mother had it all together.
Her torch was
a brittle twig she couldn’t keep lit,
never enough stick to burn bright,
but just enough tip
for random flare-ups
violently fueled by
nobody knew what.
Her lack of light meant
she could not be trusted,
and her strained attempts at
love and affection felt like
a dream where
everyone’s speaking Japanese.
Her marriage to my father was
the modern day equivalent
of an interracial same *** marriage,
Catholics and Protestants
weren't supposed to mix,
and a toothless trumpet player
with an alcoholic bent
shouldn’t have lasted the honeymoon
with a spoiled, sheltered oldest child.
But father made it seem as if
they had it all together,
at least in public.
At home it was different,
he passed through our lives
like the winter wind,
everybody scrambling for cover
when he showed up.
He slept at odd hours
and worked and drank
and drank and worked,
blowing quickly from one
to the other,
never standing still long enough
to notice the demons at his heals,
the demons that took forever to catch him,
but not mother.
They caught her when I was quite young.
I could see them in her eyes
from a very early age and
father could see them too,
but he did nothing
to protect her.
They’ve been together
over 60 years now, overrun by what
I would call a thick purple nothingness –
an eerie, detached existence within
the smothering cadence of monotony,
yet somehow, unbelievably,
they still have hope.
Hope for God knows what
all they have is their
unspoken hatred of each
wrapped up in a make believe
so strong and lived so long
that their demons are now
a huge white elephant
lounging about the house
loosening their bed screws,
pounding on the bed springs,
moving through the vents
and interfering with
the reception of Catholic radio.
You might call it insanity,
I say everything that
once mattered to them is lost,
yet again,
they still have hope.
Meanwhile
we overachieving children
suffer our own maladies,
a misfit bunch of
dysfunctional lovers running so fast
we’ll be 80 before the demons catch us.
But who am I kidding?
From father to mother to me,
their demons have been my closest friends
as long as I can remember,
ever since the first day
I saw them in her eyes.
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 1:47 PM UTC
The passenger seat of someone else's car
is a place that I can get lost in.
The seat that was off limits
until I was 10 years old,
now my introspective throne.
The world passes through my window like
memories I've long since forgotten.
A blur of aced tests and overachieving I want
to soak my brain in.
The wasted time in long lines,
my first standing ovation,
emotions that blend
with the Little Trees Lavender.
All the pain of the world can't penetrate
my secluded steel fortress,
so I sink deeper into the cushion.
Jun 14, 2023
Jun 14, 2023 at 3:59 PM UTC
The last time I had seen this particular cousin of mine, I was still in college and he had a head full of hair. In between, there had been three funerals, two weddings and four births in our Trojan royalty of a family. I had been a university graduate for a year, and the prospect for a job, a decent one at that, had started to grow dimmer by the day. He asked, “Will you tutor my daughter?” “Yes!” I said. And we set out immediately. He, on his bike and I, on my motorcycle following him. We took a right turn at the famous landmark of the statue of demoness Putana, sitting on the grass with her ***** out and legs spread forward. He introduced me to his wife and daughter. Telling them to stand side by side, he told me, “She's only eleven, but look at her! Already equal in length and width to her mother, who is no delicate petal herself. Do you think you can teach her GK?”
The universe wasn't made with dissent. Plus, the chicken samosas were really delicious. I tried on a grin while the overachieving pre-teen bustled around the room showing me her accolades for painting, singing, studying. As I left he pointed at a tree, “Do you know what tree is that?”
“Bael?” I answered thoughtfully.
“Apple. That's an apple tree.”
“Oh! Does it bear fruits?”
“Not in this climate!” He laughed out loud.
Dec 19, 2016
Dec 19, 2016 at 3:17 AM UTC
I can see now
this overachieving descent.
I'll never know how
to regain my composure.
Life has torn down
my self-assured structure.
Please, remain still.
Trust my eyes; if not that,
my predetermined will.
Condensed 'till an overflow
in my mind is my walk.
Each step I take drags me further, though
never far enough to talk.
This can't be love—
this heavy feeling in my chest.
Not hell beneath, nor the clouds above
would put me to this test.
A flightless bird
is what I've become.
To be encased by words
is pain I wish upon no one.
Seems there's nothing more to do
but lie, sleep, and wake.
I'm tired of these nightmares
irking my sanity to break.
I wish someone would wake me,
but I'm alone at heart.
Please, look into my eyes and see
my smile is a talentless art.
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 6:38 PM UTC
I have chosen to write about my journey of healing, maybe through this it will bring more healing as I write out my thoughts and my feelings, and also bring insight and healing to those who have or may not have walked a similar journey that I am now just beginning.
Today as I walked out of my appointment, DT gives me a hug and tells me to protect my heart...
The thought that runs through my mind is how do I protect my heart??? If you ask me, that's what I have been doing for the last 30+ years of my life, protecting my heart, building walls so that no one would be able to hurt me again....
You see I grew up in what most people would call, a HIGHLY DYSFUNCTIONAL family. And I had to learn to protect myself at all costs...to survive no matter what happened....and along the way I built walls, and locked a lot of doors in my heart, and I threw away the key....I didn't just lock people out, I locked the little girl inside me in....
I didn't want people to hear or see that broken, wounded, bleeding little girl inside me....
And for many, many years I have hid her behind the title of being the Sweet Young Lady everyone wanted me to be...
At home I am the Mommy and doting Wife,
At work I am the dedicated Pharmacy Intern,
At School I am the overachieving Student....
but underneath those titles I am just a woman who loves the Lord,
but has never allowed Him into the locked rooms in her heart, never allowed Him to heal the broken little girl who still hides in the corner and cries at night.
So this is my journey...of taking off the masks and allowing God to walk me in a journey of healing. Some posts may be encouraging while others may be full of pain and raw truth....but I am taking a step to show the world the truth, the pain, the joy, and the journey of healing that I am only beginning...
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 10:51 PM UTC
Didn’t dream I’d put my mind
To use this way, useless days
Spent fixating and fearing I’m
Unable to fix my broken head
Overactive imagination acting
Up and overachieving in wanton
Ways, I’m stuck in a rut to fester
Forever and a day
Jul 15, 2016
Jul 15, 2016 at 11:30 PM UTC
I heard you outside our house yesterday
On the sidewalk,
Walking your overpriced dogs and ignoring your overachieving children.
I heard you say our house was a “real fixer-upper”.
Well you know what I say?
I say our house was built 100 years before you had even popped into the world
Your face already pinched up like a pompous Persian cat.
And I say our home has housed more joy, pain, and love in one week
Than you have felt in your entire life.
And so what if it’s in need of a little paint here and there
And the grass could use some water
And the roof could be patched up a bit?
So what if we don’t have petunias the color of your pastel cardigan
Or a shiny new coat of paint as thick as your makeup
Or ceilings as high and mighty as your ego?
I’ll tell you what we do have.
We do have flowers I planted with my mother a few years back,
that come back each year
rain or shine.
We do have a porch swing that’s carried the weight of 3 generations
and a rocking chair I remember climbing into at 2 years old.
And we do have a family who loves this house almost as much as we love each other.
So next time you go calling our house a “real fixer-upper”,
Walk in my shoes for a day
And see if you would change one brick
Paint one wall
Or erase one memory.
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 7:51 PM UTC
Maybe I'm not meant to be
normally spectacular,
overachieving,
the epitome of perfection,
or a bundle of weak bones
held up by mere accomplishments
that add nothing to my worth.
Maybe I'm meant to be,
like you;
Sublime words always ready,
ready to be spilt on paper,
ready to be read by accident
but kept on purpose.
Maybe I'm meant to be,
like you;
A mystery or a person or both,
a mystery status of alive or dead
circulating the air,
everywhere and yet found nowhere,
Maybe I'm meant to be,
like you,
roam the world without
an adieu;
a supernova for everyone to admire
but unreachable.
A/N: Thankyou all for reading! What do you think of this one?
May 7, 2017
May 7, 2017 at 5:02 AM UTC
maybe I'm oversensitive
overthinking
overachieving
overstressing
overdoing
but that does not mean
I suffer less
it means I suffer more
because I need others
to tell me
that I'm worth something
if not
then I'm worth
nothing at all
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 9:01 PM UTC
My heart beats wildly
Fiercely.
But
I am an empty vessel.
No soul...
Nothing.
I yearn for something more.
But I won't let
Myself have it.
I will not allow
This sort
Of happiness
Belong in my
Life.
The one where
One loves
Another.
These are the rules
In my heart.
Permanently etched.
Wish I could melt
My feelings
Away.
Into.
A.
Giant.
Sea.
You see,
I am not cut out
For this happiness.
Overthinking.
Overdoing.
Overachieving.
Over-trying.
I am just over-everything.
Dec 10, 2018
Dec 10, 2018 at 6:52 PM UTC