Fuck You? Or Fuck Me?

God Damn It, I think I love you.

I tried to deny it but I think it’s fucking true.

Because there is something about the way you do the things you do,

That makes me think that I might need you.

You are careless and free,

And possibly the worst thing for me.

You are immature and yet so wise,

And I can see it all so plainly in your captivating eyes.

You are destructive by nature,

But that is something I have always leaned towards,

Because it is a sense of freedom that I find in your support,

And it is the thrill of recklessness that I find with you as my cohort.

I know that you are my Kryptonite,

And I know that I would happily lose this fight,

To finally end my struggle against the thing that I crave so deeply,

And the attraction that I can’t seem to shake from within me.

I’ve told myself this is a bad idea,

And I’ve come to terms with the fact that you are my sick ideal.

I know that I am powerless when you lean in for a kiss,

And I know that everything about you is something I miss.

I crave your touch and I beg for your influence,

Because you ignite something inside of me that feels like life,

And you provide me moments that soothe and lessen my strife.

You are my biggest comfort and my greatest fear,

And I am unsure if this is anything that you really want to hear.

I know that I am a source of torture for you as well,

And both of us know that this something that might not end well.

We know that our personalities will clash,

But we also know that we will have the last laugh,

Because we will find a way to make this not work for us,

And it will be exactly what is best for us.

We will learn from each other,

And we will learn from this struggle,

Or at least I hope I will,

Because you are too much for me to conceal.

You have made a mark on me,

And that is plain for you to see,

Unless you do not care,

And my body was the only thing that provided you despair.

Because it may be that shallow for you,

And none of what I say may be the truth.

I may have made this all up in my head,

And all you were really seeking was to get me to your bed.

So fuck you for allowing me to go through this torture alone,

And fuck this for being something that I miss.

I think I love you,

But I think I might hate you more,

And I know that this was everything and nothing that I was searching for.

There Is No Simple Answer

Why do I do these things?
Why do I feel the compulsive need to support my family and how did I get placed in the role of doing so for so many years?
How did I end up with children who are two to thirty years older than me?
And what did they see in me that labeled me as such a sucker?
How do I abruptly end what I have been doing for years?
And how do I finally claim the independence that I have been furiously seeking since the age of ten?
What tied me down to the family that I did not choose and the life that seems to haunt me still?
And why am I alright with it in the end?
Why do I defend the very thing that brings me the most frustration in life?
How did caregiver become the role that I play on a daily basis, when I simultaneously struggle to take care of myself properly?
What did I say to these people that convinced them that I would always be there for them?
And what did I do that proved that I have my shit together enough to provide for two?
How am I the only one who never fails to have an answer?
And what answers have others ever provided me with?
How have I become the source of answers while I am filled with so many questions?
And why do I seem to be the only one destined to struggle for the cause of others?
Why do these people seem to rely so heavily on my influence?
And what have I said that proved to them that I had it all together?
How do I find an out from this situation I have placed myself in?
And is an out what I really want in the end?
Would a life without family that is well cared for be worth living still?
And would I still receive the same sense of satisfaction if I no longer offered everything I have to help serve those I love?
What makes me inclined to be taken advantage of?
And what makes them inclined to take me for granted?
Did they ever even need my support?
Or is this something I have forced on them?
Can I only blame myself in the end? When did I have the opportunity to say no?
And when did I decide that is was better to just always say yes?
What sacrifices have I made over the years?
And how much more sacrifice am I willing to go through in order to continue serving others?
And in the end am I actually doing everyone involved a disservice?

My Life Resume

I was eight when I had my first experience with fear of extreme anger,
And I was practically silent when I was nine because of it,
I remember forcing myself to get over my social anxiety when I was ten,
And by the time I was eleven I moved school districts and out of the ghetto,
It took me until twelve to have friends once again,
But then I was thirteen when I had my first surprise party,
At fourteen I was first exposed to casual wealth,
And it was when I was fifteen that I realized I was a nerd,
At sixteen I traveled to my first international country,
And at seventeen I lost my father,
By the time I turned eighteen I lost all sense of the identity I once held,
I chose to finally lose my virginity at nineteen with a boy who I trusted,
And I chose to move to another country when I was just twenty,
I lived the life of a drunken vagrant when I was twenty-one,
And I landed my first salaried position at the age of twenty-two,
I was hospitalized four different times at the age of twenty-three,
And stopped drinking by the time I was twenty-four,
I found a release in writing when I was twenty-five,
And by twenty-six I was back at square one,
Now at twenty-seven I am discovering who I am supposed to be and what I can truly achieve.
The milestones mean nothing in the end,
And age is inconsequential.
Every defining moment I had can be summarized and excused in one line,
And while my resume holds nothing but facts,
My mind holds nothing but endless dreams,
But there is no place for me to combine the two and show myself what I have achieved.
Facebook isn’t an accurate portrayal of what I do with my social life,
And LinkedIn doesn’t even begin to describe the experiences I’ve had to pay the bills,
Instagram provides only the highlights of life,
And Twitter only offers a snapshot of my random thoughts.
The only thing I can trust any more is my writing,
And even that I have created a bias within,
Choosing to only share the thoughts I think my be worthy of my pen.
Where is the honest reflection I am searching for?
And where is the scrapbook that outlines all the experiences I’ve had in life?
Who can recount all of my life experiences in detail for me?
And who would really care about what I did ten years ago?
I do.

What I Would Say If I Could

You sit and bitch about what life has handed you,
But you do nothing about it.
You disclaim that you are suicidal,
But you see no reason to live life at the moment.
You say that you want more out of this life,
But you do nothing to go get it.
You whine, complain and put those around you down in a pursuit to justify where you stand.
You seek sympathy when I have none left to give.
Because you made choices that got you to where you are today.
And you had plenty of time to fix what you saw as broken.
You had support from me and an example of what change can truly be,
Yet you still refused to work for it,
And you never gave me credit for the work I did.
You see that my life has changed and you cannot deny that I have changed,
Yet you are still in the same place that I left you three years ago,
Suffering and complaining and unintentionally insulting all the hard work I put into life.
You make off handed comments that put me down and make me feel guilty for initiating change.
You demean my work experience and status that I worked so many years to obtain.
You claim woe-is-me when life doesn’t work out the way you had hoped,
But never admit that it might be you who is the cause of your woes.
You have been handed so much in life,
Yet you still claim to be robbed of so much more,
While here I am working to clean up after myself,
And am taken for granted when I clean up after you as well.
I have handed you everything for the past few years and you have handed nothing back,
I found a place to live,
I worked jobs I hated to pay our bills,
And I sacrificed a life I could have built to build one that supported you.
You never asked me to,
But with a true friend you should never have to.
I have been that true friend,
And you have been the only friend who takes me for granted.
So it’s time for you to finally figure it out.
I will listen and I will provide support,
But the time has come for you to finally figure your shit out.
I cannot do it for you,
And I won’t even attempt to,
Because I can no longer take care of you,
And you should no longer want me to.
You should want to pick yourself up and carry on,
And you should crave this inevitable change.
You are 29 and it is time,
To finally take charge of the life you call your own.
You should finally own up to what you want,
And you should finally put your head down and work for what that is,
You should accept no excuse for delay,
And you should be your own biggest motivator.
I cannot play that role for you,
And I cannot stress myself out with your lack of progress for much longer.
It is time for you to take charge.
I will listen and I will provide sympathy,
Because at the root of that is empathy,
And I have walked where you are walking,
And I have struggled through what you are facing,
And I am the one person who can truly feel the pain you feel.
But you have never listened to me when I speak,
And you have never taken my words as wisdom,
And you do not want to learn from my experiences,
Because all you seek is sympathy,
And empathy is nothing you have ever attempted,
And I am tired of being taken for granted,
And I am exhausted by putting you first,
And it is time for me to move on whether you like it or not,
And it is time for you to do the same.
Because I am done with this shit,
And I am done with your complaining,
And I am done attempting to relate to someone who only seeks sympathy and never takes action,
Because when I was that same person,
You were not there to help me.
You did not spend the time to listen to my struggle,
And although this is not about keeping score,
The score board is clear that I have been doing this for years,
And it is time for you to put some points on the board if you want me to continue to stick around,
Because I do not take friends who take me for granted lightly,
And I no longer stand for that kind of emotional abuse from anyone but my mother,
And although you will always be my brother,
You have proved that you will not always be my friend.
But that’s not what matters in the end.
What matters is what you prove to yourself,
And what frustrates me is that there is nothing you can be proud of,
Because you were never challenged,
And you never tried,
And I don’t know what keeps you motivated inside.
So, I love you and I care for you,
But this is where the sympathy ends.
This is where it’s all on you,
And this is when you must find something to do.
It could be cleaning or cooking,
Volunteering or working,
Fanciful or practical,
Demeaning or up lifting.
You just have to do something.
You have to move on.
It is time for change,
Or at least it is for me,
Because I cannot take this pressure any longer,
And you should no longer want to bestow it on me.
I was never you mother and I was never your lover,
And I do not know what I am getting out of this friendship any longer,
Besides a comfort in a lack of change,
And an excuse for being deranged.
So this is when it ends,
And this is where you should begin,
Because this is when I make my exit,
And I do it without regret,
Because you had years to ask my for advice,
And I had years of being dragged down by your strife,
But I won’t take it any longer,
And you can fall or you can follow,
It makes no difference to me,
Because now I am finally allowing myself to be free.

Please Understand Where I Came From

It took me years to have confidence in myself, and strength to have confidence in my shortcomings. It takes me months to come around and stand by my decisions, and it takes all I have inside of me not to give up on myself. I worked so hard to get to where I am standing today, and it will take me years more to continue cultivating that strength. Because it took just one sentence from someone I love to tear my whole world down to nothing. I don’t hate him for the words he spoke. And I do not resent him for his unawareness of the effect of what he said. I cannot ask him to take those words back, but I cannot help but want to point out the error in his ways. What I do hate is that the second thought never occurred to him and the reflex to evaluate his own words did not kick in. But still, I cannot resent him for not experiencing the same things that I have in life. I cannot blame him for never working a job that demeaned his sense of self and I do not wish that he know what it is like to be reflexively talked down to. I just wish that one of my best friends understood where I am coming from.

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I Want Someone To Want Me

I just want to be appreciated.
I want to know that I am loved,
I want to feel that I am watched over,
I just want someone to care.
I want to matter to one individual,
I want to have a mate to my soul,
I just want someone interested in my thoughts.
I want someone who listens,
I want my words to fall on attentive ears,
I just want to never feel like I am speaking to an empty room.
I want someone who notices,
I want a pair of eyes to always be trained on me,
I just want someone to have my back.

I hate this feeling of abandonment from nothing I ever knew,
I hate that I crave dependence,
And I can’t stand that I fantasize over attachment.
I hate that I am my own best supporter,
I hate that I come off as independent,
And I can’t seem to get over the thought of what I am missing.
I hate that I am weak and foolish,
I hate that I desire something so common,
And somehow I can’t stop the thought from emerging.
I hate that I have succumb to the problem of my age,
I hate the assumption that I need to be attached,
And yet I can’t help but agree.

I wish that I could push back these tears,
I wish that I could carry on without fear,
That I might forever be alone.
I wish that I placed priority on dependence,
I wish that I had planned ahead for this inevitable nemesis,
That I might never create what some consider “home”.

But what I really seek and what I must truly speak,
Is that I just want someone to care and I want someone to be there,
I hate that this is a problem that makes me cry and I can’t endure the pressure any longer,
I wish that there was a simple answer that might lead me to the prince I have been longing after.

And forever the answer that I hear in the back of my mind,
The one that is soft and stumble and means to be kind,
Is that I am my own Queen and I must serve me,
And that will allow me to be free.

I Wish I Knew The Meaning To Life

I wish I knew what I was doing.

I wish that I had all of the answers,
And I wish I was left with no questions.
I wish that I had never encountered doubt,
And I wish that I had the confidence to say damn it all.
I wish that I could boast about all I do,
And I wish there was a single thing I didn’t think I could do.

But I know my limits.

I know I don’t want to be a slave to the system,
And I know I don’t want to live my life at work.
I don’t want to look up one day and wonder where all the time has gone,
And I don’t want to waste my life away on things that do not matter to me.
I never want to regret time spent away from people I love,
And I never want to be the cause of my own depression.

I don’t know what I want.

I want to live life freely and without a care,
But I don’t know what in life might get me there.
I want to be the master of my own plan,
But I don’t know what plan to make in the first place.
I want to see a face of confidence when I look in the mirror,
But I don’t know who I am looking at most days.

I am lost.

I wake up in a fog of confusion,
And I go to sleep in a fit of exhausted frustration.
I don’t know what my day holds for me,
And I can’t seem to find the energy to control anything that happens to me.
I live life moment by moment,
And I can’t see to look any further than where my feet have landed.

But I can be found.

I can continue on and find my way,
And I can have confidence that today might be the day,
When I look up and see all that I can be,
And recognize that all along I have always been me,
I can search high and low,
And I can live off of the highs and wallow in the lows,
But in the end I will be alright with whichever direction it goes,
Because this is a search,
And it is a life-long quest,
And there are no answers as to how to live life best,
So I must trust in myself,
And trust in my feet,
And carry on at my own pace and my own beat,
With the faith that one day I can be “complete”.

But I will never be whole.

And I will never stop questioning. Because there is no secret to this life.
And there is no reason to for my strife.
There is nothing I can do but continue on.
And accept life and the trials that it may bring along.
I must persist,
And I must accept,
That this life is something that only I can allow myself to regret.

I Hate This Piece

These are the mornings that annoy me,
And these are the faults that I cannot help but see,
This is what hinders me,
And this is what makes me want to scream.
I see the mistakes I have made and the choices that I failed,
I over analyze my actions and replay them in my head,
And I only see disappointment in my reflection in the mirror.
I look further for an understanding and some forgiveness,
But all I find is a further desire to give up.
Because I am not perfect,
And I cannot be,
And this is something that frustrates me.
I want to move through life without a mistake,
And I want to know a life without regret,
I wish that I had the ability and drive to execute,
A life that I am proud to be a part of.
But every day I wake I am disappointed in myself,
And for every mistake I make I chastise myself.
It is reflexive and ingrained,
And it is something I cannot seem to untrain.
I have taught self hate for so many years,
That what I love about myself is no longer clear.
I cannot seem to move past the self criticism,
And I cannot seem to see past my human faults.
There is something inside of me that won’t let go,
Of the judgement that I place on my every action,
And the analysis I conduct with every thought,
Because I almost know myself too well —
I know what my motivation is,
And I know why I am making mistakes,
I know that I am only human,
But I know that I have inhumane standards.
Yet there is something inside of my that will not accept this,
It is that something that makes me hate,
And it is that something makes me restless,
And something that makes writing this impossible,
Something that will not allow me to speak the truth,
And something that will not let me admit that I am avoiding the truth,
Because it might be too much for me to bear,
And I doubt that I am strong enough to overcome,
And if I speak the truth then something in the end must be done.

The “Best Years of My Life” Were a Lie

Someone lied to me. I was led to believe that college would prepare me for life. I was told that that piece of paper that I worked so hard to obtain would open doors for me and allow me to get my foot in. It was conveyed to me that college would teach me life skills and that once I made it through the shit show of four years I would know how to live like an adult. And someone allowed me to believe that that someone else could hand me all of the answers. I trusted in an institution and I had faith in an organized approach with clearly outlined steps. I had to take certain classes to advance onto other ones, I was allowed to develop my own schedule and I squeezed in time at work whenever I could. I participated in an internship that humbled my ego and taught me the meaning of hard and unrewarding work. And I studied abroad to take in other cultures and learn a different way to approach life. I valued every learning experience I had during those four years and clung to them as i was told these experiences would get me through the rest of my life. But someone had lied to me — and although those years built a foundation of knowledge and experience, they were nothing in comparison to what experiencing life had to teach me.

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