Resurfacing

I am beginning to remember it more clearly —
The day I lost all sense of belonging.
I am starting to reminisce upon this feeling,
Of being devoid of everything,
Yet simultaneously overwhelmed by emotion,
That was too much to handle without closing in,
Avoiding a view of the rest of the world,
Because it was no longer anything I recognized,
And the fragility of existence left me terrified,
Since I had never considered that someone I love could die,
Least of all well before their time,
When I still needed them as a life guide.
The shock made me instantly numb,
And I was only able to succumb,
To a place of the floor,
Destroyed and nothing more,
Shaking in a fit of my uncontrollable tears,
Leaving me to face head on one of my greatest fears,
That death is a reality,
And no one is safe,
From the end that can be so easily obtained,
I was confused and obliterated,
Not able to do anything but crumble,
Devastated.
Then came the emotion to attack,
Fight back,
Deny that this was something that could not be taken back,
So I ran.
I fled.
I thought that maybe I could walk this all off instead.
Possibly if I just kept moving,
Everything would be as I knew once again.
I walked for miles,
I moved with determination,
Not allowing the stumbling of my feet to detain me.
Until the moment came,
When I could stumble no further,
And there appeared a kind hand on my shoulder,
Of a mother a would come to love more than my own,
Reminding me that I needed to return home.
I had to face my new reality,
And I needed to be surrounded by family,
But when I returned I found that once again I was being abandoned,
By my mother and best friend’s father who had to handle the body of my father,
I was passed off to the care of another,
Leaving me even more numb and indifferent to everyone,
Except for my dear little sister,
Who was the only person left to listen,
But I had nothing left to say,
And I wouldn’t for many days,
Allowing myself to disappear in the blackness of loss,
And suppress the surfacing of any thoughts,
Leaving me broken pieces in a battle lost,
Against being the stronger person who could step up and assist,
Offering love and support in moments such as this,
Knowing how to care for my sister,
And being thankful for the people who helped us,
Despite being abandoned by two brothers and a mother,
Leaving us to be cared for by my best friend’s mother,
Who somehow made us eat,
And allowed us to sleep for days,
Since I have no recollection of the passing of time,
But I know that my mother did return,
And I saw my brothers the day after all of this occurred,
But I can’t recall ever sitting down as a family and providing support,
I remember a meeting where we planned my father’s wake,
And I remember the countless hands that I had to shake,
I remember using it as an excuse to drink,
And an opportunity to sink away from it all,
Retreating in an effort to make my world even smaller,
So that I had nothing left by which to be bothered,
And I could close myself off from the potential to ever feel abandoned,
Because it is too much for me to bear again.
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I Want To End This

I want to tell you everything — I crave to keep no secrets,
I want to put it all out on the table,
So that I can claim you know I am able.
I want to cultivate that connection — I wish to share it all,
I finally want someone to catch me when I fall,
So that I can claim there is no reason for that at all.
I want to stay strong — I worry that you will see my weakness,
I am afraid that you sense my doubt,
That prevents us from having anything to talk about.
I want to never question this connection — I truly want to believe,
I am the woman you want,
So much that I cloud all your other thoughts.
I want to not be alone — I wish you would join me in this desire,
I allow to consume my every power,
So that I am left questioning what I would be without this glower.
I want to be someone you wish for — I ache for this struggle to end,
I am seeking someone I can finally call a friend,
So that I know I am no longer running solo.
I want you to be the man I am searching for — I am tired of looking any further,
I project everything I desire onto your persona,
So that I can convince myself you are the one that was foretold.
I want our connection to change everything — I wish it was that easy,
I hoped that I could manipulate you into this feeling,
So that I can feel what love is at least briefly.
I want to no longer be broken — I wish that you would put me back together,
I hoped that it would be a simple endeavor,
So that I could move on from this frustration and finally give in.
I want you to be the man that I was meant to be with — I hope that this was not a mistake,
I am tired of wasting my time on the inability to relate,
So I can finally open up to you and be the person you wanted too.

Do Not Thank Me

I am not your daughter’s friend.
And I am not the person you should be thanking.
I do not find any value in her in the end,
And mine is not the hand you should be shaking.
I am not the source of support she needs,
And I am anything less than what she perceived.
I am not the person she should turn to,
Since I will have no idea what to do.
I am selfish and crude,
And have nothing left to lose.
I am seeking an escape,
And she was in the wrong place,
Thinking that I had the capacity to commit,
To being someone she could see herself with.
I did not speak those words,
And the pressure she is putting on me is absurd.
Since I am not the person she seeks,
And I cannot say the words she wishes me to speak.
I never claimed to be her friend,
And I did not fight to take this seat,
It was something she forced on me.
I am not the person she thinks she knows,
And I have no idea where she thinks this will go,
Since I never said I would stick around,
And this is something she chose.
 I cannot be what she wants me to be,
And I will not change for her alone.
Since I did not ask her to come into my life,
And this is nothing you should condone.

Cyclical Depression

I don’t know what to write about any more,
Should I dive into the ways in which I have been wronged?
Or should I continue on with celebrating all that is gone?
I hate the sound of my own voice,
And have grown tired of listening to myself on loop,
Or find a way to be creative with this expression,
Because the same questions and doubts keep pressing in,
They never leave me alone,
And I remain hounded by the same questions,
If I have anything left of value to give?
Or if this is the point where I finally give up?
And succumb to the natural numbness found at the bottom of this cup?
I am tired of thinking positively,
And exhausted by the battle to not sink down completely,
Admitting that I am a natural piece of shit,
Allowing myself to finally come to terms with it,
Not caring any more about my boredom,
No longer giving a fuck about my potential,
And finally saying out loud that I have always been mental,
Because I love to love things that are bad for me,
And it is more natural to embrace the cynical,
Admitting to believe in that fact that all things are disappointing,
And nothing is worth working for,
Because it will all be ripped out from underneath me,
When I thought there was nothing even left beneath me,
Proving that I can always sink lower,
And there is always the hope for a lack of revival,
Paired with a frustrating piece of me that will not let go,
Of the conflicting hope to attain something larger,
And rise to the occasion I was born to address,
Forgiving myself for all the opportunities I transgressed,
And allowing myself to finally move on from this mess,
It is a nagging hope that I will finally learn to cope,
Finding the freedom that I have been searching for all along,
And allowing myself to feel like I belong,
In the place I have chosen to finally rest my head,
And the peace which I finally can bring to my bed,
If I choose to succumb to this release,
And work for the things that will bring me this,
Versus allowing myself to remain remiss,
And continue to complain about the opportunities I have missed,
Or the spirit that I lack,
Paired with an overwhelming desire to retract,
Any words that I spoke in boldness,
Or any thoughts I expressed with hopefulness,
So I can continue to deny,
That there is so much I am battling inside.

Surviving Myself

I was distracted from my point,
As I sat down to roll another joint,
Actively suppressing these emotions,
And allowing myself to drown in these potions,
That begin to blur out my mind,
Making me forget that I am one of a kind,
Allowing me to disappear into the masses,
And forget what I learned in classes,
That I have an intelligence that can serve me,
If I only considered it worth the worry,
To give a fuck in the first place,
And pursue the chance of filing a case,
Against the injustice I do that never serves me,
Encouraging my life to stay forever blurry,
So that I can never see,
The person that I once wished to be,
And never feel disappointment,
In the choices that seem so permanent,
Because I can easily ignore the decisions I made,
If I lie to myself and glide through my days,
High and numb and satisfied by no one,
And nothing except the feeling of being empty,
Which allows me to rebut any reason to retain me,
Since value is nothing I see in me,
And the struggle is too difficult to pretend to see,
Value in on the daily,
Or justification for these thoughts that plague me,
Leaving me to really wonder,
If this life is anything more than a mere blunder,
A mistake through which I am expected to fake,
Being happy with this existence,
And excitement for this chance,
To “live” and “laugh” and “love”,
And find a higher purpose from a god above,
Because what is the point,
When I always return to rolling another joint,
Resetting the progress that I have made,
And contradicting the plans that I laid,
With an intake of smoke,
Smothering my ability to do anything but choke,
On my own words and my far off dreams,
And the air that is supposed to bring life to these things,
Allowing me to black out yet another day,
Pushing me to forget my sense of play,
Since trouble is all I can see,
When I am looking through glasses that are constantly hazy,
Yet I continue to deny the things I do,
And blame it all on the troubles of my youth,
Because that is easier than giving a shit,
And less effort than pursuing anything besides the state of being lit,
Since that is so easy to accomplish,
With my dedication to this conquest,
Of destroying any hope I may have harbored,
And suppressing any emotion I may encounter,
As a life long habit of survival.

Cheers To The Unlucky

Here’s to jinxing my own luck,
And denying my own chance,
To rectify everything I am disappointed in in my past.

Can I hear it for the struggle?
And can I receive support for this denial?
That has me questioning my ability to smile?

This one’s for my heart that has gone missing,
And my tendency for wistful thinking,
Which gets me no where I have been wishing to be.

This piece is an ode to the person I am denying,
And the strength that I am vigorously hiding,
So that I can claim that I have nothing I wanted to see.

This is a shout out to my sense of immaturity,
And the mistakes that continue burning me,
Yet I continue making in an effort to continue this faking.

Here I will claim that I am anything but sane,
And wish that there was an easy answer to my pain,
Finding that there was nothing in the end to gain.

Cheers to the spliff in my hand,
And the bottle by my side,
For fueling the anger I feel consuming me from the inside.

Here’s to the opportunity I have floundered,
And the old habits by which I have been hounded,
That will not allow me to be the person I am seeking to set free.

This one is for the pain and the suffering,
And my desire for absolutely nothing,
To change if I can help it so I can continue to hate what I dealt with.

Can I hear it for the power of hate?
And can I feel the significance of this date?
For all things unlucky to occur and for this life to continue to be a blur?

Because what do I really seek in the end?
How can I continue to deny the feelings that emerge with this pen?
And what makes me think I stand alone when I spew disappointment into this microphone?

Because I see the evidence of your struggle,
And I feel the support of your denial,
To find anything in this life that is worth the effort of a smile.

So let’s embrace what we have today,
And let’s set aside our cares for another day,
For now let’s raise a glass to the ghosts that haunt us from our past.

Cheers to this denial,
And here’s to the struggle,
That I will continue in this blind rebuttal.

My Apology For Being A Basic Bitch

I feel like a basic bitch with you,
And I am confused about the things you make me do,
I lose all self confidence when I speak with you,
And I am beginning to become unglued.
Because I am not like this with other men,
And I do not doubt that I am something to be desired in the end,
But with you I am afraid of the things I do,
And afraid that it all might scare you,
Since it is obvious to see,
That I am hopelessly into you,
And you could leave me so easily.
I have back up plans and second string men,
But you are the only one I really want in my bed.
Because you fascinate and intimidate me,
And leave me feeling hopelessly desperate,
For your attention and desire,
And confirmation that I am nothing to regret,
Pursuing despite my tendency,
To doubt that I am anything worthwhile,
And hold any more value than a pretty smile.
Because I have even began to question your desire for my body,
And your persistence to acquire,
Me as another notch in your extensive belt,
And then leave me with no hard feelings felt.
Because you were clear from the very beginning,
That this was nothing more than a primal connection,
And that it could only have one result in the end —
Leaving you with what you wanted,
And me with nothing I sought,
Being haunted by the thought,
That I am inconsequential and something to be ignored,
Since existence with me can be boring,
I am not implored to be pleasing,
Leaving my actions often deceiving,
Because I cannot be clear when I speak to you,
Out of fear that you might see through everything I do,
And realize that I am desperately into you,
And terrified that you might not like the things I do.
Because I have invested my mind too much already,
And my fantasies of you are on the verge of being crazy,
Since I have not allowed anything to actually be experienced,
And I have avoided showing you anything of substance,
Without even realizing how closed off I was being,
And hating you for not pursuing,
To discover what I hide underneath my carefully crafted surface,
And uncover the pride I have for my true self,
Because you make me act weird,
And you make me feel insecure,
Leaving me feeling even more hopelessly immature,
Because I can’t seem to give up on you,
And you could so easily give up on me.
Because what have I shown you that could captivate such an independent mind?
And what do I hold that could harness such a unique kind?
What can I do to even get the attention of you?
I doubt that I have the ability to be,
Everything that you are seeking to set you free,
And that in the end I will be left behind,
In a wake that only you have the ability to create,
And a submission to my destined fate —
That I will always be single,
And that I will fuck this up in the end,
Leaving feelings of regret to linger,
For never allowing you to be a friend,
And never accepting that you can,
Possibly at all,
Even in the smallest way,
See me as something to desire,
And call me someone to admire,
Finding me somewhat worthwhile.
But I doubt that that thought exists,
In your mind or the mind of another,
Because soon you will discover,
That I am more crazy than I am worth,
And I can’t blame you when you do,
Because I don’t see myself as anyone worthy of you.

I’m Obsessed

Is it too soon to text you?
When will you be around so that I can see you?
Why do I have these thoughts about you?
And why can I not stop them from being true?
I am obsessed and addicted,
Leaving me above all conflicted,
And denying my ability to listen,
To reason and rationale,
And the feeling that this is all out of my control.
Because you have me by the heart,
And you did from the very start,
Despite me not knowing anything about you,
And not truly trusting the things that you do.
Because I don’t think I actually know you,
But somehow it’s led me to love you and all that you do.
I know it sounds weird,
And I know that my feelings remain unclear,
To you but it is so plain to me,
That I will strive to be anything to make you want me.
I will try to play it cool and not allow myself to look like a fool,
And then I will admit that you are someone I crave to be with,
Which will lead me to dismay because you were very clear to say,
That you never wanted to be friends,
And sex was all you wanted in the end.
But I am willing to be used,
And there is a sick desire in me to be abused,
So that I can remain in denial,
And keep you captivated with my smile,
While secretly fantasizing that this might survive in the long run,
But never giving you a clue that that is what I was counting on,
When I finally allowed you into my bed,
And submitted to the fact that you are deep in my head.
So at the risk of sounding crazy,
And the knowledge that you do not claim me as your lady,
I wonder if you might be around?
And if I might have finally found,
The man I was always searching for?
And if you might allow me a chance to explore,
This myth they call love?
And the feeling that I am secure because,
I have you and nothing more?
Does that feeling truly exist?
And can you solve all my issues with a kiss?
Or what if this is all something I am distracting myself with?
So that I do not recognize that you are the last man I was ever meant to be with?

Embracing My Flaws

My mood seems to swing every time I look up.
I don’t know if I am crazy or if I am fighting the instinct of mania.
I can’t seem to make sense of my emotional battle,
And I can’t seem to predict when it might rear its ugly head.
The doctors tried to put me on medication,
And if I was smart I would probably listen,
But there is something inside of me that will not give in.
I will not admit that I might be insane,
And I always claim there is something to be gained from this pain,
Because I have experienced what it is like to be numb,
And I have contemplated the release of a gun,
To allow me a final escape from this struggle,
And deny that there might be anything left inside of me,
That is worth saving or ever worth praising,
So that I can succumb to this state of being dumb.
Because only stupidity will allow me to suffer,
And ignorance is the root of my blunder,
Allowing denial to have the upper hand,
Pushing aside all that I have to offer,
With the slip of a smile,
And the will to go the extra mile,
Paired with the light I see hidden in this struggle,
For hope to change,
And proof that I am deranged,
But only in the best way,
In a way that keeps me all the more sane.
Because I will not allow myself to be blind to this life,
And I cannot continue denying this strife,
That characterizes all of my experience,
Allowing me to feel even deeper this reverence,
For whatever life throws at me,
And the person that I will prove to be,
If I only allow myself to accept that this life is not a dream,
And my wish for it to be is obscene,
Because if I were to truly come clean and be honest with me,
I would see that I am anything but crazy,
And at times I was just being lazy,
Allowing my existence to become hazy,
So that it was easier to handle,
And I could refrain from this battle,
That exhausts and pushes me,
To find something that will finally set me free,
To be the person I was always meant to be,
If I only allowed me to be me,
And allowed my struggle to be a piece of this scene,
Instead of hating its existence,
And resenting its persistence,
That never allows me a moment of peace,
And pushes me to have secrets that I keep,
Because I am in denial about this life,
And I will not admit that I have resonate with the dark,
Which drags me down and only increases this frown,
Of frustration and exhaustion,
Which weighs down my crown,
With thoughts of weakness and a sense of bleakness,
Countered by moments of enlightenment,
And a spirit characterized by lightness,
To proclaim that I have always been insane,
And I am proud of that fact,
Never wanting to turn back,
And feel regret over the things I have attempted to forget,
Because they are a piece of me,
And I am a piece of them,
Leaving nothing to regret besides the desire to forget,
All that I have been through to create the person I am now,
And the humble desire to kneel down and bow,
To the higher powers that have designed my path,
And the reflexive reaction to end with a laugh,
About how I was taking myself all too seriously,
And that life is something much more simple,
If only I admitted I am crippled.

Is This A Midlife Crisis?

I am realizing my age and admitting that I am no longer 22,
And finally looking back at all the things I’ve been through.
I’ve claimed my spot of age and experience,
But did not recognize that I can no longer claim to be the girl I once knew.
Because the passing of time has been inconsequential,
And on so many levels it is driving me mental,
This constant discovery of who I might be,
This constant struggle that leaves me sentimental,
For the times in my life that I now see as easy,
And the moments in life where I faked responsibility,
But knew the truth,
That I was constantly aloof,
And there was more than enough proof,
That there was more I was attempting to deny,
And so much more from which I was trying to hide.

I fantasize about the times when it was simple,
When I functioned in this life as a cripple,
Broken and in denial about every trail I experienced,
Putting in time to face my threat of triples,
Of Intoxication,
Self-Doubt,
And Blacking Out,
Allowing me to drown all the memories I created in this rout,
Knowing I was loosing the battle,
And denying that I was worth the struggle,
To see value in,
And attempt to save in the end.

Not caring appeared to be easier in my youth,
And now it seems to wear on my resolute,
Opinion that this life was a struggle from the very beginning,
And was something to which I was never clued in.
Because it was not the passing of my father that created my image,
And it was not anxiety that developed my personality,
I cannot claim to be raised in vain,
And there is no denying that I have experienced pain,
But there is the opportunity to act my age,
And I have the chance to release myself from my own cage,
Of memories and regret,
And all the things I have attempted to forget,
Instead remembering the moments that I celebrated,
And taking lessons from the experiences that left me separated,
From the existence that I had once known,
And the person into which I have grown.