My scars don’t fade

Because it doesn’t matter anymore. Because all my handkerchiefs  are wet. Because there’s no more room for this. Because my breath is growing fainter. Because silence is too loud. Because I’m alone. Because she’s got a life. Because they deserve their life. Because I don’t matter anymore.

There are no reasons.

Silence chokes me, there’s too much noise

Sound surrounds me and all I want to do is scream. Shut up, I think. SHUT UP.

I can’t stand the chittery-chatting. I can’t stand to see. I want to cave in, isolate myself, underneath my covers and listen to loud-loud music. Only real noise can block out the noise I feel. Nothing. Nothing hits me. I turn to it the other cheek. And get hit again. Nothing is playing table-tennis and my head is the ball.

Heaven falls down. Game over. I get nauseous and heaven falls down again. And again and again. Earth spins too fast. You cannot spin-race the earth – because you will never win.

Silence hugs me tight. Silence squezes around me. Tighter. I can’t move an inch, and I can hardly breathe. Nothing comes out, even though it’s on the verge. Silence chokes me, but only my soul dies … my soul and my hope.

I hear a sigh, someone’s scratching their head, whispers, and the only thing I think is GAAAH! Silence is so noisy! Silence is too loud.

Catch me, force me. Hit me if you must. You must. Beat the living crap out of me so I won’t feel the noise in the silence. There’s. Too. Much. Noise.

Let me go. Leave me be. Set me free. Life is not in my future. SHUT UP, I think.

Dear Anxiety

Dear Anxiety,

I want you to know that you are never welcome. You come uninvited every time, and I’m justing waiting for you to leave again. I don’t want you to visit, I don’t want to see you. You know no boundaries, and you have no consideration. Whether I got other plans couldn’t bother you less, and I’m sick of that. I want you to know that, know that you are not welcome. You are the guest I want the least. You ruin good conversations and put a damper on the mood. Dear Anxiety, you are not dear, you are not my friend, and you are not welcome.

Yours respectfully,
Me

Death, now or later?

I think
a lot
about death

Convince
myself
that it’s my choice

I can choose
death

Now.

It hits me
Death will take me anyway
Death has chosen
me

Shall we dance
now?

Will I let life
take it’s course
Or will I?

Denies, postpones
life
No one chose me!
to life

Death will take me anyway
I can choose
now

No … thanks
Take it back
I don’t
want the choice
of life

I think
a lot
Little about life
Life doesn’t exist

I can choose death now
or later
That
is all

 

I wrote this almost 2 years ago.  I chose ‘now’, felt the euphoria of the choice, but chickened out after a phone call from a friend calling me selfish. I woke up in a hotel room by myself, lonely, lonely, lonely. I didn’t really write this, you imagined it.

Cheesy poem #2

I met you randomly as I stepped out from my car
It’s been so long, you said, I’ve been wondering how you are
Follow me in, and let’s catch up over drinks
Hush, don’t try to save this ship that sinks

I saw you between the sauces and the bread
I’m fine, fine, fine and truths were all unsaid
Dinner tonight, you should come around
I smiled, but didn’t tell you that I’d drowned

I was caught as I tried to back away
Almost safe, but you stopped me with your ‘Hey!’
Don’t go, I know that’s something’s wrong
What, no, I’m fine, really, just not strong

I met you randomly as I stepped out from my car
I’m worried, you said, tell me how you are
Let’s hang out, have fun and forget about the funk
Hush, don’t try to save this ship that sunk

Dependent much?

Truth #5.

I’m getting better at this honesty stuff. Barely lied all day! Woot?!

So. Hey! I think I’m a really dependent person. I would LOVE to say that I’m like independent and resourceful and stuff, but truth is, I need others. And what I’m thinking about right now is for emotional and social support. I think it’s because I’m so insecure, and have low self-esteem. And because I’m neurologically messed up and don’t know what’s right and wrong to say sometimes.

The truth is I evaluate almost every social encounter I have with people I don’t know properly with my mom, or some other close confidant. I feel stupid for doing it, thinking I should just do and forget. I don’t need to recap everything, do I!? Well, it seems I do. Almost until I get someone agreeing with that it was okay, and not lame, and the right thing to do, I can’t forget about it.

Like today, I met this guy walking in my neighborhood when I was walking towards my house. It was dark and I didn’t see who it was, but I assumed it would be someone I knew, and even if it wasn’t we were the only ones out there, and just two people walking past each other like that, I thought it only polite to say hello. So I said “hello”, and this guy said “hi” and then I continued towards my house. I heard on his voice it was one of my neighbors, a previous classmate. Milliseconds after those two small words were exchanged, my brain was racing, did I do the right thing!? So the second my mom came home later this night, I told her very accurately what had happened (as if I was telling my best friend about how this guy came up to me, and we had to scrutinize everything he did to figure out if he was into me or not, seriously that’s the only time I think this much studying is okay to spend on a tiny situation!). I even said the words in the same tone of voice and everything.

I’m just picturing myself not being able to say this stuff to anyone, or hearing them say “Yes, that was okay, and now you don’t need to think about it anymore”. What would I do, if I just kept obsessing over all these situations and they added up more and more? I could find another way, and I think it’s healthy to find another way (do you have any suggestions?) because I can’t be that dependent on someone else!

On a sidenote: I’m not entirely helpless. There are plenty of things I do manage to do on my own. No need to worry just yet. 

The world is a painful wound

I’ve read this book. And it’s about World War II.
And when I read … sigh. When I read about the terrible events that happened to Jews and Germans in that book, I know that it really happened. And it’s impossible reading it without getting affected. I wish I could do something! 

Truth #4: Even mentioning what I thought when I read a book about the war, and the holocaust, and the starvation, and the rapes, I feel unworthy. I feel as if I have nothing I should say. As if I’m stomping on someones graves when I’m uttering a word about it. But at the same time, I feel as if I’m dishonoring all the people affected if I turn the other cheek and pretend it never happened, and avoid all thought of it. I’m so sorry. I wish I could do something.