I never say I’m depressed, have bipolar disorder, anxiety, a spectrum of autism, or a self harmer because those are words I take too seriously to throw around trivially. Those are words that should be used with a purpose.
Sometimes we forget the power that words hold. Sometimes we forget that if we overuse words they lose value. The internet made it easier to glorify toxicology of our brain because we can get instant satisfaction that we aren’t alone. We are just a quick share or like away from bandaid therapy.
It gives us the chance to ignore that the cut is even deeper and the wound is still bleeding. When you are really going through it. I know it can be crippling. It is absolute torture feeling trapped in your own skin. A prisoner of your own mind because you are persecuted by your thoughts.
You don’t want to be a burden. You don’t want to vent to someone about the same thing for the thousandth time. Even if that thing just won’t go away. You laugh, you smile, you feel euphoric. Yet those thoughts always creep up.
The things that are most dark about you always lay waiting in life’s shadows.
You want to have better coping mechanisms but negativity is just saying “I dare you to try to be happy again”
You are filled with doubt because of confidence lost.
You just hoping to make it through the entire day without anyone asking how you are because you aren’t a liar and it breaks your heart a little bit every time to say “I’m okay”
You are reading articles alone because you don’t want anyone to think you love your child less because you have postpartum depression.
To say I’m afraid I won’t be able to provide the proper life for this human I brought into this world and love more than anything else.
You feel closer and more connected to the world than ever before. And everything about the world seems lost. Where do you get your hope from?
You hope no one ask you why they never see you eat. It’s hard to say I don’t feel good about my body and right now I’m not being healthy about it.
We as a society hold eating disorders in the realm of frail high school girls who will eventually grow out of it. That is not the reality.
It’s hard to say I looked at unrealistic images on my phone for hours today and I know it’s all fake, but it all feels real to me.
They’ll all say you are beautiful and they wish they had a body like yours but that doesn’t give you an appetite.
Matter of fact it eats away at you.
You hope no one ask you about your love life. It’s not easy giving the cliff notes version of why you are heartbroken. How you have someone so much power to make you feel incomplete. So you say “it just didn’t work out, that’s all” that’s never all. We give too much power to timing. I promise you there are more things we could work out of we spent an hour together.
You heard stories, looked up all the resources and you know the right thing to do. None of that prepares you for what to do when you are raped. The shame you feel that you shouldn’t because you did nothing wrong. The way you know someone will look at you when they find out. The fact that you will be questioned before you are believed. That you will blamed when your bravery should be rewarded. Boys will be boys always comes at the expense of women. Boys will boys is why men who are assaulted keeps secrets. So you keep it to yourself. You look away when a topic of brought up during awkward conversations or scenes in movies. You may even see the person who assaulted you out and your skin cringes. Like a thousand cold needles are playing acupuncture with your soul. You hate feeling helpless but you can’t scream in public. That wouldn’t be lady like. You just continue living life the best way you know how. This is the type of pain in the pit of your stomach that doesn’t simply go away.
You put extra make up on your eye in hopes that no one notices the bruises on your face. You’ve never been properly loved before so to you this is love. It gets worse every time but the apologies get better after every instance. The promise that it won’t happen again. You’ve isolated yourself from your friends and your family so all you really have is the belief that it won’t happen again. It always happens again, abuse comes in cycles. It’s vicious in a sadistic way.
Your brain tried it’s hardest to block it out but it keeps coming back to the surface that when you were a kid someone use to sneak in your room and take innocence away. This is why you became so good at keeping secrets. That’s why you hate cuddling and everyone thinks you have a problem with intimacy. But saying you are a victim is never a great conversation starter.
You do drugs to deal with the pain of life. The daily stress is piling up. You have bills, debt, a job not paying enough and school. So sometimes you just need to escape. You need to forget who you are. You’re not entirely sure you want to be here.
You can’t remember the last time you really let someone in. You break hearts for quick gratification because that’s what happened to you. So you tell them you love them because you like hearing it back. Once you hear it back you become emotionally unavailable. These are things we blame on our generation. These are the things they say we need to deal with because they always manifest in a negative way.
You’ve wanted to quit this job for years. You have a dream you want to pursue. What if you fail? What if you tell people and you don’t make it? What if this turns out to be the biggest mistake of your life? You always put love of adventure in all your bios but you never want to be honest with yourself and say I’ve always been the person to play it safe.
You don’t feel you are tall enough.
You don’t think the people around you really love you.
You hate being alone with your thoughts.
You’ve come closer to killing yourself than you’re willing to admit.
You drastically need to fix something about your life but instead you’ll just change your hair again.
You need to work on what you don’t like about yourself or getting over that person who will never be what you need. It’s easier to fill accomplished by just deep cleaning your room.
Typing out on Twitter that you are happy is more convenient than having the conversations needed to actually be content.
You’re afraid of rejection.
No one honestly knows who you are but you’ve been putting on this mask so long you don’t think you can take it off.
You know this could be something special, maybe even the real thing. But you can’t believe it because you can’t get hurt anymore. All your second chances were just another attempt to see regrets unfold.
You know how young you are and the pressure you are putting on yourself is ridiculous. Still you always feel like you are running out of time.
You don’t want to be left behind in life.
You don’t want to die alone.
You can’t stop comparing yourself to everyone else’s highlight reel.
I could go on and on and still miss some of the things that bring us upon the treacherous path that is the human condition. The complexity of how the mind works and the imbalances some of us truly have. All the encompasses is to be dark and twisty.
I know my darkest days. The nights I went to bed hungry. The things I did for money. What I saw that I will never speak on. How warm blood feels and how cold nights can be. At the time it was just my life. It was all I knew and it was all I thought it would ever be. Something beautiful and tragic is no matter what the world keeps spinning. Life continually goes on.
I won’t say trust me or believe me. Because when you are really going through it there’s no simple solution. Never really any words said that will do much but make you say “Thank you” in the moment.
And once the moment is gone you are drowning again.
That’s why I always tell people I’m here to listen. You can vent to me. At certain points we don’t want to hear shit. We just need to get it out.
When we were kids we always thought quicksand would be a huge problem growing up. No one warned the quicksand would be our own thoughts.
I know the power of words. So I wholeheartedly have faith it will be alright as long as you keep going.
I don’t know what human needs to hear this but I care about you and it will be okay
I don’t say that lightly or as if it will be easy.
Just staying above water and continuing on living can be the hardest things to do some days.
I’m already exhausted with the battles of next week. I’m stressing over the moves I want to make next year.
Is it time to let you and some things go? I thought we were something rare that was almost there.
The excuses of why I should stay the same always sound better than the actions I know I need to take to improve.
Universe please give me a sign.
That which is broken does not mean it was necessarily destroyed.
I have my bad days just like everyone else. I have a week where I might be down and sad. I have mood swings. I suck at math. There’s things I get nervous about. I have my insecurities. I realize my pride needs to be put aside too late on occasion. I send text that don’t get replies and I do overly romantic gestures that get rejected. And every other thing that makes me uniquely imperfect.
Falling apart just feels easier nowadays. I personally don’t think that’s how it should be. I don’t know if it’s a gift or a curse but i I can feel everybody’s pain. Even if I’m numb to a lot of shit myself.
I’ve seen death and miracles firsthand. Still I’m in no position to tell you what the meaning of your life should. But you have a purpose.
Holding it together is a beautiful challenge. They won’t call you a king until you are gone. That’s why I deliver these words in a royal fashion. So you can give me a thrown once you miss me.
I’m good with words so everyone comes to me with their problems. At times it gets hard taking on the burden of these strangers. They say they can relate to me and I haven’t even shown them all the angles.
The young boy selling dope and he don’t know how to stop.
The girl that was raped and she is doubting her self worth.
The mother of two who doesn’t know if she wants to be here anymore.
That kid who wrote me everyday for a month straight cause he didn’t know how to tell his parents who he really was.
The man who realized he wasted his life too late.
What do I say?
What would you say?
They all like my words.
I look in the mirror and I’m glad it didn’t shatter. I look at you and want to say you truly matter.
I’m the strong friend, I check on myself.
I say I miss your stubborn ass with no regrets. I say I love you to people I care for without hesitation. I don’t need to hear it back. I just needed to get it out. Because this young life has taught me I don’t who I’m going to lose next.
I use to take that for granted.
I may not look both ways in this fast lane as I run red lights but every night I hope the next morning I wake up.
The sky giving me forehead kisses and saying sweetdreams.
Genius or insanity I don’t know which way my brain leans…
I’m just trying to hold on…
I constantly think I’m losing it…
I’m holding on for dear life to everything that feels right. If it wasn’t for the mechanics of my body I don’t know if I would remember to breathe. Who do I tell I thought I was going to die along time ago? Not nightmares; I had visions of my mom at my funeral.
If you say you’re going to be there for someone truly mean it. Because we hold onto swords thinking they are ropes and instead of climbing we cut ourselves.
The first cut is the deepest but the second cut is the realest.
Most days I’d consider myself a stand up guy. I’d like to think most days I’m a decent human bean. That those around me enjoy my company. Sometimes I isolate myself because that’s easier than trying to explain to anybody the glimpses going on in my brain. But just like everyone else existing with a hope to live on this rock floating in mass nothingness that is actually everything. I procrastinate sometimes because of fear that I’ll be great. Or the outcome will be less than i imagined. I’m self conscious and I have my doubts. If that day falls on a Sunday it’s the worse, because I never want to let anyone down. So I don’t hide my faults. All these beautiful spirits that keep me humble. I’ll let you know I need you close to me, but that doesn’t mean you are obligated to stay. We are all dealing with something we don’t really want to deal with. We all got skeletons that are spooky beneath the surface.
Who really loves you underneath it all?
I try to change the behavior and I write my wrongs. In hopes that I can right my wrongs.
Some of my apologies I gave too late. Some of my apologies came right on time. Some of my apologies I never gave at all. I just lay awake and think about them. What should I have said? Some of my apologies were never accepted. Some of my apologies moved on when I wanted them to be by my side. All of those apologies statements I just made work the same way if you insert the word forgiveness instead.
We are all connected somehow.
We are all hanging on by a thread that is pulling on our pain.
I see you have a platter full of misery. Did you make me a plate?
I’m writing about me just in hopes that it makes you not feel so alone.
People say they love my writing cause I put their thoughts into words. I express what they cannot say.
Or what they don’t want to say…
You can judge me, trust me, all alone I’ve already said it to myself.
To me it just means we are all fucked up trying to figure it out.
I’ll make a view in the darkest of place. I put my faith in the stars. I don’t know if there is a Heaven for me, but my mind was a living Hell and I made it into an art gallery.
We are self aware. We know what balance is and yet we still ignore it.
Let’s work on that.
Find your balance.
Don’t be afraid to look into the mirror
Sometimes it’s okay if the reflection we have of ourselves shatters.
Know your wrongs.
Know your rights.
Know your darkness.
Know your light.
I don’t know if it’s a good day or bad day for you; but I sincerely hope you make it to tomorrow. Tomorrow is a new day.
Thank you for being here.