"schoolwork" poems
Depression is
"I should shower now, while I'm still feeling okay."
Depression is
Drinking water with every bite because you don't want to eat.
Depression is
Having an audiobook on while you sleep to keep yourself from waking up vulnerable.
Depression is
Taking risks to try and reach yourself.
Depression is
Vivid memories overlaying themselves on reality.
Depression is
Wanting to do your schoolwork but being unable to find the strength.
Depression is
Not answering texts because too much interaction tires you out.
Depression is
Having to work harder than everyone else for the same result, and being called lazy anyhow.
Depression is
Sleeping for 14 hours and still being tired.
Depression is
The guilt that comes with finding one person who makes you feel good, and knowing you will burden them.
Depression is
Being left by your lovers or friends because they don't understand.
Depression is
Piles of ***** laundry you wish you had the inner fortitude to do.
Depression is
Wandering the empty roads in the middle of the night because you can't sit still.
Depression is
Reading a book whenever you are in public to ease the stress.
Depression is
Not always
Visible.
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 12:34 AM UTC
If somebody asked me if I still loved you
I'd say yes
If they continued to ask me what I loved about you
I would say
I loved how you laughed at the things I said. The way you stopped mid sentence and kind of chuckled. You'd cover your mouth and your eyes would dance and your shoulders would shake a little.
I would say
I loved how your hands played the piano. I always knew that there was some beauty in humans but never like the sight of your fingers dancing over the keys. You played so effortlessly, like it was nothing. I could have listened to you forever.
I would say
I loved the way you obsessed over your hair. I know I would always rag on you for being too into it, but it was endearing. Whenever you played with it a little I wished that I could do that too. I also loved the smell of the gel you used.
I would say
I loved how the sun hit your eyes. It would make them spark like you had something witty to say, and most of the time I think you did. The blue would look like the underside of a flame, bright, hot, burning. I think I hurt myself on them.
I would say
I loved how you breathed. Just sat there breathed. I wish I could have laid my head on your chest for longer, held my breath for longer to hear your heart beating. Sometimes giving up my life just to be in yours seems like a better option.
I would say
I loved when your glasses would slip down your nose when you were concentrating, whether it be on music or schoolwork. You'd push them back up with the delicate tip of your middle finger, shoving them back up to the safety of the bridge.
I would say
I loved the way your arms looked around my waist, like there wasn't a single thing that you wished to hold more. Your smooth skin was what I wished I could feel on mine again. I don't think there's another thing I wished I could touch once more.
Lastly, I would say
I loved how you tried to stick around until the very end. It wasn't easy for you, I know. But ******* it you tried. I think that's what I loved most about you, that you didn't give up because it got too hard. You gave up because you knew that I wasn't ready. I'm never going to be.
The only thing I hate is how I have to write all of this as "loved" and not "love" because I'm supposed to have let go of something this trivial a few months ago.
I'm sorry.
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 12:54 AM UTC
I’m just trying to eat my french toast and drink my coffee but you keep cutting me off as I’m about to take a sip take a bite asking why I like it with sugar i add a spoonful of creamer and you’re laughing
but not in a loving way
talking about my schoolwork and my plans for the garden
and you skip over the congratulations and mention your ex girlfriend
going on about your ex girlfriend and my face has hardened
i drink my coffee and try not to listen
i eat my french toast and i don’t pay attention
i’m looking at the man with the book eating alone
i’m looking at the waitress wishing she were home
excuse me and i’m up
the bathroom is empty and nobody saw me
the mirror is clean and i am *****
the lights are brighter than i want them to be
and the soap dispenser is empty
Mar 22, 2019
Mar 22, 2019 at 10:26 AM UTC
Dear future daughter,
I’m writing to you a letter,
Because one day you’ll need this advice,
And it’s worth a certain price,
It’s worth the price of lessons,
The ones that make you think,
You’ve been running in the wrong directions,
And stop making you see life in pink,
First thing you need to know,
Is that sometimes you need to let go,
Even if it doesn’t feel right,
It just as well might,
Most of the time the things that feel good,
Aren’t the things that should,
That’s why you should never harm your wrist,
‘Cause then I’ll just be ******
Second thing to keep in mind,
Is to always be kind,
Because the girl you laugh at with much glory,
May have lived a terrible story,
Ask her what her day was like,
The strangest people have the greatest things to tell,
Even if their stories seem like they came straight from hell,
Trust me it won’t be an experience you will dislike,
Third thing I want to tell you,
Is that one day you’ll meet a boy,
And the idea of you two,
Will be one that brings joy,
And one day he might leave,
And it will make you believe,
That nobody will stay,
But trust me it won’t always be that way,
Fourth thing I want to say,
Is that it’s okay,
To give yourself pleasure,
And to give youself some leisure,
Sometimes it’s a necessity,
Because you schoolwork is driving you crazy,
And in that moment you’re panicking,
But your schoolwork isn’t more important than your own being,
Last thing I want to say,
Is that life does not count itself it breaths,
It counts itself in the moments that take it away,
People with short life enjoy it this way before their deaths,
So go on and make your life worth living,
And make it worth sharing,
Because you never know when,
It might end,
Dear future daughter,
Please consider everything I have written in this letter,
Trust me when I say without a doubt,
That your future mother knows what she’s talking about.
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 4:17 PM UTC
When I was a kid
I remember watching the comedy channel
Not in my own house, mind you
My parents were too smart for that
When I was a kid hanging out at my friend's houses watching the comedy channel
I remember
A slogan
Time. Well. Wasted.
And I remember thinkin'
"Oh! Yea! I like that! Imma sit here a lil' longer!"
I was just a boy at the time and that's as far as the thought got
About a half-hour later we decided time was better wasted building gigantic, man-eating snowmen.
Eventually I went home
I wasted some time arguing with my parents about schoolwork, ate a bowl of cereal and wasted the next 8 hours in a comatose
I woke up to waste the next several years of my life figuring out how to waste the NEXT several years of my life
Somewhere in there someone told me I should do what I feel called to do so I wasted time waiting for a sign of some kinda magicy, Jesus voodoo
While I was waiting I wasted time reading Ecclesiastes and learned about what a waste of time it is to read Ecclesiastes
So I tried filling my time with all the things that weren't supposed to BE a waste of time but then I didn't have any time so I fell flat on my face on the edge of the vortex that is the human condition!
And I cried, "God!"
"Why do you waste your time with a foolish and selfish sinner like me?"
And the almighty, holy, infinitely incomprehensible, incredible God of the Universe replied
"Time. Well. Wasted."
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 7:43 PM UTC
I get it, my problems aren't that bad.
Worse things happen to better people everyday.
I live in a costal, wealthy, yatch club town,
Officially an only child,
With my judgmental sister spending her freshman year in Manhattan.
I live with my favorite parent,
who doesn't care what fun I have
as long as I'm honest and safe,
and of course I get my schoolwork done,
and the other who drives me insane
is fortunately not in the same area code as me.
But it hurts
To be the listener for the people who created me
As they speak horrible things about each other,
Express their loathing for one another.
To be so broken
And not to know what do to about it..
Self abuse is in my rearview,
but I just hate talking about myself so much.
I've gotten really good at bottling up
And moving on
Just letting my bad thoughts and feelings
Dissolve into worthlessness.
But sometimes it ***** to be alone.
I just wish you were here to tell me I'm not
and that you love me.
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 8:50 PM UTC
I want to live for today
But keeping grades gets in the way
I want to be wild
But to get a job I have to be mild
They say "be yourself"
And throw themselves at your mental health
Welcome to high school
Welcome to high school
It's not exactly musical
Welcome to high school
Isn't it wonderful?
Forget what you know
I'm just here to show
You your classes in a place
You thought would be cool
You're underslept
You're somewhat upset
Mood swings, hormones
Family issues
A shitload of schoolwork
Mix them together in a class
And you'll pray that college will come fast
Aug 14, 2016
Aug 14, 2016 at 9:48 PM UTC
When I was twelve,
my uncle told me that
when I got older,
I would only have enough
"best friends" to count on
one single hand,
and they would be the
best best friends I'd ever had.
And I can count my five
best friends,
but they are not
my best best.
Because they tug
and twist
and ****
and pull
on my heartstrings
in ways that could make
a grown girl cry;
and they do.
So I can tell you the names
of my best friends
that rip me to shreds
and throw my heart
onto a floor covered in
broken glass;
and you will be able
to identify the names,
because they might be your
best best friends, too.
Wanderlust
the beast to slay them all,
pushing my desire
and reinforcing my disability,
reminding me that I have
nowhere to go
and everything to see
Disorder
in my bedroom,
in my essays,
or in my brain;
all of them causing
someone (me)
to explode in a fit of
unwanted emotions.
Apathy
Towards my schoolwork and
busywork handed to me
by middle-aged "can't-do-so-teach-ers"
that need a handful of capsules
to numb the pull to leave
just as much as I do.
Dysfunction
in my brain's chemical makeup,
and my family's emotional one,
not to mention the relationships
I attempt to handle like a
one-handed juggler.
Imagination
creating scenarios in my heart
that could never come to be,
leaving me in a perpetual state of
disappointment.
So now I will tell
my nieces and nephews,
sons and daughters,
or countless grandchildren
to never trust the ones that
try to make something different
of your heart,
because they don't really love you,
they love what the can make you become.
Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 9:32 PM UTC
I can't sleep, I can't rest my eyes.
Need to work harder this term,
Or I'll never get a job.
Need to get a job so I
Can work to get one later.
What will your face look like when
You see me? Will mine mirror
Yours? Do you still want to be
With me? Or are you sick of
My insecurities? I
Can't go back to the empty
Chatter and the meaningless
"I love you"s, sitting around
Waiting for absolutely
Nothing to happen.
Stabbed by passive aggressive
Thoughts unleashed like a weapon.
But this might not matter 'cause
The plane could crash or explode
And I won't have to worry
About a thing...except for
Medical bills, catching up
On schoolwork, notifying
Those who matter, offending
Those who don't. Maybe if I'm
Lucky I'll slip into a
Coma and rest for a while...
But that's no good because I'll
Just worry everyone else.
But really, I am just fine.
Just what are you doing? Don't
Look at me closely. I told
You that I'm fine, I'm okay.
Please have a nice day and don't
Worry about me. I'm fine.
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 2:19 AM UTC
Please forget schoolwork,
for there are heartier things,
such as your forehead craving these
good night lips.
You thoroughly speak of
entwining our limbs,
while I'll dream of seeing
my sleeping beauty,
and a kiss.
Although rhyme does not showcase wit,
I'm still the man that tonight,
you will miss.
Moonlight peers over a crest of visions,
or balances right on the cusp.
With daylight matters so pressing,
I'll press just enough.
Upon the small of your back,
your resonant blessing,
to awaken your dreams
with my morning touch.
Now go to sleep with the help
from countess sheep up above,
and by my word, we'll catch up.
In the early morrow, my love.
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 12:23 PM UTC
19 years of boring days,
19 years of tears,
19 years of things drastically falling apart and never making any sense,
that is 19 years of trying to figure things out, like my body, and who the heck am I?
19 years of loving any guy who dare speak to me,
and 19 years of heartache figuring out that they didn't love me back,
19 years of dreaming and reading and wondering,
19 years of thinking, about everything really,
About God, and life, and why in the world am I here,
and 19 years of drawing,
19 years of human pain, like that time I had to get surgery for a broken leg,
Then there is a ton of mental and emotional pain, like heart break,
And other ****
19 years of loving my family and friends for being there in my desperate times of despair,
And 19 years of not realizing that they were there the whole entire time,
19 years of trying to find my unrealistic and perfect Mr. Darcy,
which of course does not exist, well to my knowledge at least,
19 years of crushes on all the wrong guys,
And 19 years of never acknowledging the prime and proper ones who were gonna treat me right,
19 years of having to schoolwork, and now in college its more work then I have ever imagined,
And sometimes I just break down and cry because the stress of it all is depleting me of all my energy and time,
19 years of not knowing how to function around certain people, like at all sometimes,
And 19 years of having some of the greatest friends in the world to go out with on random nights to smoke hookah,
19 years of happy days,
And 19 years of having your heart ripped out of your chest and beaten on the side of the road until it can barely beat anymore,
19 years of having sucky days that make you want to jump off a cliff and **** yourself, or anybody at all really,
Like the first person you wake up in the morning and dares speak to you,
19 years of feeling tired, like every day,
19 years of eating delicious junk food, drinking water, laughing so hard I can't even breath, spilling coffee, talking so fast I forget what I am even saying and slipping up on everything.
19 years of foul plays and just really bad mistakes that you thought were gonna turn out good, but hit you really hard in the face,
So 19 birthdays to celebrate all these crazy and silly happenings that make me wanna go insane,
But I'm not so sure where I be without it all, without
Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 8:47 AM UTC
You think that everyone has problems
Yes
We all do
It need not be family problems
It could be friendship problems
Schoolwork problems
Everyone goes through that face
It is depressing
But
we just have to embrace this storm and walk through it
You tell that to me
So i pretend that i have no problems to
I guess good thing is that you're not here
Yet
I've learnt my lesson
When you are too open to your friends
Especially those you are close to
One day you think they are here for you
You really never know when the next moment will come
When they start mocking at your back
They try to do it discreetly
But
I've been mocked at
enough times
To know from your expressions
Who you are talking about
What you are saying
I might not know exactly what
But i know that
You treat me as a good friend
IS DEFINITELY NOT TRUE
And i just have to say that's the cruel fact of life
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 9:06 AM UTC
I am a writer, yet often the little daily goal box to "write something" remains unchecked.
I am a photographer, but my camera has dust on it and my uploading sites are sparsely filled.
I am an academic, yet for the most part I find myself only studying what is given to me while the material I've collected remains halfway read.
I am a reader, but I keep rereading the same books and they don't get opened every night.
I am a loner, but I have those I love and those who love me.
I am quiet, but I must speak 80,000 words a day.
I am a horse owner, but the leather of my saddle creaks and groans with disuse.
I am a fan, but episodes are left unwatched.
I am young, but I do not have much energy.
I am in love, but I do not get to see her but once every few months.
I am in a long distance relationship, but I'm not much good at setting up Skype dates or leaving her messages on Facebook.
I am a performer, but I have not touched a stage in over a year.
I am a gamer, but I only play one game.
I am a dork, but I smoke cigarettes and drink black coffee.
I am a nerd, but I was never much into comics and I do not wear glasses.
I am mentally ill, but I talk to therapists as though I am upbeat and I am not behind on my schoolwork.
I am a musician, but I cannot play an instrument though I've tried many times.
I am a blogger, but I've let many die and I do not network well.
I am of the computer generation, but I could not explain how a computer works.
I am a daughter, but for many years I hated my parents.
I am a sister, but I have to remind myself to speak to my siblings.
I am a friend, but I prefer to keep to myself and I don't always have the right thing to say.
I am American, but I don't know much about politics and I don't like apple pie.
I am a vegetarian, but I have to eat fish sometimes.
I am gay, but I don't know exactly how to explain so that other people who have questions understand.
I am a student, but sometimes I don't feel like I'm much good at "critical thinking."
I am sad, but I smile.
I am an optimist, but I am cynical sometimes.
I am guarded, but I spill myself.
I am myself, but I don't know who I am.
I am not much good at being the things I am.
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 11:55 PM UTC
Never stop learning
Educate yourself
Be willing to feed the mind
That would surely help
Get to the head of the class
With an open book
Always forge ahead
Stay sharp with schoolwork
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 10:20 PM UTC
I want to believe I live in a dollhouse
Where nothing is wrong, nothing is broken.
I want to live in a dollhouse
Where everything is permitted
But in reality nothing is like the dollhouse I want
In reality I live in a broken house
Where mother and father live in separate houses
Where brother and sisters fight over stupid things
Where younger sisters fight and bicker over the littlest things
Where going to a different house every other weekend
Where a nineteen year old bother is still working for a job.
Where the seventeen year old is working part time job to help with the bills
I dream of a dollhouse
Where mother and father are together
Where siblings get along
Where older brother works
Where older sister is helping with younger sister
Where everything is in place
Where everything is permitted
The one thing I want....
I want to live in a doll house
I want to be like a porcelain doll
A porcelain doll with nothing broken, just a little cracked
But reality trips me over telling me
"nothing is going to be the way you want"
I sit there thinking "Why bother?"
Then I remember something my sister told me
"Over think the possible"
But reality is telling me not too
In reality I am a broken doll, coming from a broken home
Where mother works a nine hour shift
Where father leaves town
Where older sister gets her heart broken
Where younger sisters want to beat the guys up for it.
Where older brother is lazy like a dog not wanting to hunt.
Where mother has a boyfriend who cares for us like a father should
Where father has a girlfriend who also cares for us
But I want to live like a porcelain doll in a dollhouse
A dollhouse where mother and boyfriend are married
Where a family is a family
Where sisters are playing around
Where oldest sister can read a book without splitting up fights
Where brother helps with the sisters schoolwork
Where music is louder than a bomb
Where sisters can share things like secrets
Where books and music rule the house.
Where siblings listen to their parents and obey the rules
Where friends can come over and stay awhile
Where we can run around without getting in trouble.
Where father can build computers
But reality reminds me, he controls the show
And I **** in with "I can do anything because my house right now is my dollhouse"
My doll house has everything..
My dollhouse acronym
D= Do what you love
O= Over think the possible
L=Love with all your heart
L= Let go of the negative thoughts
H=Have faith in your family
O= Over think the ideas you seem impossible
U=Understand that you are loved
S= See the inside beauty not just the outside
E= Everything is going to be alright.
DOLLHOUSE!
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 12:01 AM UTC
Despite suffering from illness,
****** assault from a once trusted individual,
being told I do not belong in my own country,
and shoved away by supposed peers and professor at my institution,
I remain.
As steadfast as ever,
protecting my place, country, and
family.
No matter how exhausted
or how shattered my current frame of reality may be,
I never cheat on my schoolwork or exams
like the same peers who belittle me.
Me, who is there:
patiently waiting,
always the last,
seeking help after another misstep;
Nonetheless,
diligently remaining on track,
amidst the others descended from the Esteemed,
Who continue the cyclic tradition of oppression.
While I acknowledge that
the absence of refuge
for the trodden
has existed for many centuries,
and even myself as of now,
I understand it to be ill-gotten privilege
I may have stolen
from another applicant more promising than me;
I remain in
This Place
amongst books
and the International Royalty.
Beginning from
such atrocities
in both blood, home, and later within the educational institution,
I never had any interest in making a name for myself.
I did not apply to college because I was told to—
it is because I was predominantly told the opposite.
Facing the shouting and dismissals
from those closest in blood and esteemed teachers at school.
In this time of a loosening socioeconomic hierarchy,
finally exposing the Freedoms of this Nation
Our Ancestors could never dream of,
We Must Remain, Learn, and Fight!
Revel in how
Unfulfilled we are,
Remain Loyal to your well-established Ideals,
and Fight!
Aug 24, 2020
Aug 24, 2020 at 3:58 PM UTC
I stepped in the shower today and
Let the hot water burn my body
As it trickled down my newly tanned skin.
I closed my eyes and let it
Wash my mascara away.
I thought about now
How wonderful, and peaceful,
And easy things are.
I thought about summer..
You're spinning me around in the water and
Softly kissing my neck;
We sit around blazing orange fires
And congratulate each other on the perfectionism
Of our s'mores.
But soon, September will come
A tidal wave of schoolwork,
Two and a half hours of driving,
And late-night Skype calls,
Are heading our way.
Jealousy and questioning
Are almost guaranteed to become abundant.
It won't be easy,
And I can't promise anything
Besides;
I'll try my best
For you
Jul 28, 2013
Jul 28, 2013 at 11:01 PM UTC
The concrete depresses with each small step I take in the Arco parking lot
I fold this song up into my pocket and my schoolwork starts to rot.
Your hair hangs loosely by your eyes as you ration out my shots.
I wanted to remind you that your nails give me goosebumps, but I forgot.
Your legs laced up and shining in oil are sculpted out of bronze
Lying naked in aphids as we strive to be shameless among your father's front lawn
You are sunlight disguised by a sheet on a clothesline
In the middle of meadows made of wheatgrass and starshine
How can something so beautiful share a species with me?
A shopping cart overflowing with grace given away on the streets for free
My jeans are turning into strings of flayed fabric under your yellow moon
I'll shower you in music, if you promise to abuse it, within my crimson room
Lock me in my comfort stall with dividers emitting petroleum fumes
Break down all the walls with your desperate call as your temple, I consume
From within towers where light is devoured, against all odds, I bloom,
For a skeletal mastery with ultraviolet eyes crawls into my tomb.
You are a symphony of epiphanies for a boy made of concrete
In the midst of a city of asphalt and batteries.
You splat on my canvas and blast from my headphones
And if you opened me your name would probably be on my bones.
Keep the covers at bay
So I can admire your frame.
Feb 17, 2011
Feb 17, 2011 at 6:55 PM UTC
Washing over, it is a surprise
No noticeable trigger, even in retrospect
Nothing, and then BAM
A brick wall built in a moment as you step forwards
Hard to describe, my pen rusty from sitting tucked up in a drawer for so long
First I am me
Then me but not the same
How to define that inbetween?
Inconstant, shifting without warning
Dizzying to experience, shifts my emotions sideways
The one who laughs the loudest needs hope,
The one who is the rock needs stabilising
Or else TIP down as the little stones beneath shift around,
Down the cliff from the plateau
Leaving everyone else to cling to the rockface
How do I tell you that SHE makes me feel sick
When it had no effect yesterday?
It isn't he, nor always she, but neither ze nor they.
I am more than IT but less than she
How to tell you that she isn't me?
She was yesterday, the day before,
Today I am only me, as of 22:34
Tomorrow who knows?
But how to explain.
The battle of clothes.
Yesterday, curves accentuated
Today, too tight chest
Tool loose waist too tight hips
Nothing fits except the tears which spring to my eyes
Ever more easily.
Staining my cheeks, my sleeve sodden
I face the world and smile, laugh the loudest, help the most.
Nobody sees me crumble as i shift again,
Stagger slightly as it moves
Not back to where i once was,
But somewhere different once again.
My strength comes from me, but sometimes I can't help wishing I was an elder daughter, a big sister, an average teenage girl.
That girl who smiles and laughs as you walk by?
Who you are jealous of?
She needs help more than most
The very word she can be jarring
But SHE smiles.
That clever girl who goes to the Catholic all girls around the corner?
Who you are jealous of?
Stupidity and cowardice to not be herself lie beneath.
Buries herself in schoolwork
That beautiful girl sits at a nearby table?
The one you are jealous of?
Beautiful is a dagger in her heart.
For she is not she nor he
Only somewhere in between
It is you these 'girls' are jealous of
Apr 1, 2016
Apr 1, 2016 at 6:24 PM UTC
Six days left
In this oasis
In this escape
In this reality we’ve created for ourselves.
Six days left
And it already hurts.
Three days left
Where did my time go?
She’s one floor below me, and I miss her this much
What is twelve hours?
Half a day.
This will be the only thing about our relationship
That isn’t easy.
She has an early morning tomorrow.
Sleeping in our respective beds,
I don’t remember how to sleep alone.
If words could describe perfection,
I would paint a picture of phonemes and morphemes
Of syntax and semantics
Of beauty and wonder.
If words could describe her
I would bridge together vowels
Consonants
Punctuation
Grammar
If words could describe this
Trust me,
I would use them.
Shakespeare
Made up words when nothing else
Seemed right
I’m beginning to see why
He and Mr. Geisel
Were so unsatisfied
With the language at hand.
Five days in and I'm
Keeping myself busy so that I can ignore
The Aching that comes.
That always comes.
I'm afraid to hope that she'll
Be different than the others.
But she seems genuine
And I'm so satiated
When I'm with her.
Trying to be a better person for her,
I've never been with someone who could
Keep the panic over grades and schoolwork
To a dull roar.
I think I've got something remarkable here...
And I miss her.
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 3:52 AM UTC
Animistic, not reminiscent
or exotic but disgustingly ignorant
of the ******* space in the present
A poem that doesn’t have to do with emotion?
Who let him in the building, oh, the same ******* who put 85
Security cameras and the same ******* who believes
Visible shoulders will create testosterone molded boulders
In the crotches of every boy’s too low jeans
I haven’t thought schoolwork was important
Since I knew what passion meant, and I’m no different
Than any boy or girl around but I know I am not anything near lost or found
Pertaining to a missing student.
Do you ever consider the other option?
That contumacious behavior is nothing to fear
Because although the misunderstood is misunderstood
Think of who told you should
Now what if they opted for could?
Or will you settle for chopping the wood for your fireplace
settling for our settler’s stolen goods
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 6:54 AM UTC
Every morning I wake up
I turn off my alarm
And in the dead silence, and pitch blackness,
I stare at the ceiling for a bit
As my eyes adjust to being awake
I just lay there. Thinking.
About life
About the hell of getting up
For all of about five minutes
Every morning I wake up
I get out of bed
I go to the bathroom
I splash some water on my face
I brush my teeth
I swirl around some mouthwash
I put on some deodorant
I brush my hair
I wash my face
I put on some face lotion
Every morning I wake up
I put on some warm clothes
I get a drink of water
I eat an apple or a banana or sometimes an orange
Every morning I wake up
I grab my backpack and put it on my bed
I put on my belt
I slip on my shoes
I wiggle into my coat
I get at least two decks of playing cards into my coat pocket
I get my wallet in my back pocket
I get my phone in my front pocket
I get my earbuds into my coat pocket
I get my pen into my inside coat pocket
I get my flashlight into my coat pocket
I get my hand driver tool into my pocket
I get my phone charger into my backpack
Every morning I wake up
I go through this routine
Without much thought anymore
It's natural to me
To do the same thing each and every morning
Every morning I wake up
Whether I want to or not
I lock up the dogs
I feed my turtle
I turn off all the lights
I walk out the door and lock it behind me
Every morning I wake up
I follow this routine
Step by step
Without fault
Every morning we all wake up
Even if we don't want to
Even if the only thing we want to do is just lie in bed
And not deal with today
Even if the only thing we want is just a couple more minutes of precious sleep
Just a little longer in the warmth of our blankets
Just a little longer not having to go through the true hell that is today
Just a little longer to be by ourselves
But we wake up
Every
Single
Morning
We wake up
We'll continue to wake up for the rest of our lives
Each and every morning.
I think that says something about us.
I think that shows just how resilient we really are
Every morning that we wake up
It's a big middle finger to all who say we can't do it
To anybody that says we aren't strong enough
Even if you're a weeping mess all day long
Even if you don't get your schoolwork done
Even if you aren't prepared to get up
You still do.
I still do
We all
Still
Do.
I think that's just incredible.
Feb 26, 2019
Feb 26, 2019 at 11:02 PM UTC
My self harm scars are fading and somehow I want more.
Sometimes when you touch me unexpectedly, my heart punches me and the flashbacks start.
I don't snort adderall for schoolwork, I do it so that the demons of sleep and bad dreams will shut the **** up.
When I was a little girl, I used to pinch myself on my rib cage when I got upset. I guess I started early.
I hate your ****** hair because it reminds me of my rapist's.
I'm turning into my mother.
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 10:30 PM UTC
Thinking
Thinking
Waking up
Thinking
Eating breakfast
Thinking
Doing schoolwork
Thinking
Why can't I stop thinking
Because its in me
My natural inclination
Thinking
Still thinking
Please just stop
Then
Silence
As a another thought
RUSHES THROUGH MY HEAD
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 3:40 PM UTC
I used to walk to the chapel often
at least every weekend, sometimes more.
I'd gather up my friends and we'd head out.
Sometimes there were 6 of us, sometimes only 2.
Walking to the chapel was an experience of freedom from our every day lives --
from our schoolwork especially.
Walking to the chapel was an experience of living life to its fullness
drinking in the smell of the water, of the trees, of the season.
Drinking in each other, and the friendship we shared.
Sometimes we walked to the chapel, sometimes we ran;
Always the joy pouring out of us, the fresh energy of youth, and the
raw emotion of our shared relationships.
We walked to the chapel, but then we also floated there:
carried by our love of the land, the water, our curiosity, and each other.
Walking to the chapel was a sacred experience.
Tonight we walked to the chapel again;
This time a group of 5 --
two parents, three children -- together.
We smelled the water and the trees,
we felt the warm breeze.
We walked together -- one unit -- and yet each of us free.
The children running ahead, the baby carried.
The adults joined now in care not only of themselves,
but of the little ones they helped create.
The beauty of the place heightened by the beauty of being a family.
The emotions of days past, the joy, the freedom, the experience of life, they rise up.
We are a family.
We exist to help each other.
We find joy, delight in one another.
We are free to love life in all its glory;
to be uniquely ourselves,
and yet bound together in love.
Walking to the chapel as a family is dynamically life-giving,
and an example of holiness.
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 1:27 AM UTC