This photo was taken accidentally, while I was sitting in front of a computer. I checked out the picture and I really like it, it speaks to me.
The lights in the front represent my hopes and dreams and everything I want and want to be. In the background, its darker and harder to see clearer. I’ve always felt left behind or, shall I say, in the dark. I do it to myself though, everyday I become more aware of this. In the picture I’m aiming for the lights.. its a constant struggle. This picture kind of frustrates me as well. If only I was a little closer..
I am inspired by music, it takes me to another place so far away.
As a child I shut out most of my world using music, it was the only way I could
deal cope. I would listen to angry music like Eminem and spit the lyrics to release some of my buried pain. In the school hallways I stuck to myself, and my headphones. You could always find me sitting against a corridor wall staring into a abyss. My friends wanted me to join them for lunch.. I would follow but I was never there.
To this day, it is hard to find me without my MP3 player on, head banging or singing away. The beats bring me emotions I never thought I could feel. So loud, all I can feel is desire and passion in my heart, it is almost unbearable. When I feel this, it is like a form of self torture.. I can’t figure out how to release the intensity of what I feel, yet I want it to continue. Dancing and singing helps release the feeling a little but it is not good enough, I need to find out where that passion and desire is directed. Sometimes (even in the public eye) I can’t help but laugh and start rave dancing or singing out loud, out of frustration. I need to feel the strength of my words carry into the wind.. One day, someone will hear my voice and find me.
Music made me open up, it tore down the thick diamond walls that 5 years of counseling couldn’t. No longer am I afraid to say what is on my mind or how I feel. Nothing will bring me down. Nothing can make me believe I am not good enough. When I can’t find the words to describe how I am feeling, I look to music and lyrics.
The intense passion made me want to come out of my dark and lonely shell. It pushed me to become someone I remember only dreaming about years ago. It make me want a voice. My OWN voice. Now you can’t get me to shut up, and all I want to do is express me. If it wasn’t for music, I would not be the complete person I am today. Coming from staring into an abyss, to singing my heart out on public transit, is a desired change. I can now freely express some of that forever building desire and passion through singing, dancing, art and words.
But still I do not know what that passion and desire is.. is it a passion to dance? Sing? Or simply just to express myself because I was not able to before.. Whatever it is, my frustration is building and containment for that feeling as well, will be difficult to achieve.
I am 20 years old and still discovering parts of me.
vile feelings flee
from her corpse eyes
for fear of failure
heart strings played gracefully
fear of portraying visions
of eyes filled with sympathetic glares
afraid to break this
frozen pond of life
pooling deep into depths
Im sitting here wondering what to do.
It’s pretty late in the morning, and she’s sleeping behind me.
I have alot to learn and there’s lots I’ll never know.
There are things people think I dont want to learn.
But really my mind is a sponge, I love to know even the most dreadful of things.
Dont even ask me why Im writing this, cause I dont know myself.
I just .. hate being alone at night. There’s to much to think about, yet nothing at all.
Or maybe the thoughts are just racing so fast, I just don’t know what I’m thinking.
I should feel so proud of myself.. for leaving my troubles behind.
I have forgotten them, expecting myself not to feel the way I do.
I’m afraid for my friends.. I feel as if Im leaving them behind.. when Im not. Im right beside them .. watching them all fall down like a set of domino’s. One falls down, leading another to fall down, leading another to fall down..e c fucking t. When will it end? Maybe I can stop this chemical reaction.. Im trying to be strong and brave but so much drags me down and restrains me.. but I like to be restrained..I like pushing against a higher power, maybe thats why I could not complete Youth Hab.
Anyways.. Why is it that I see a friend fall and immediately I fall with them? Am I to loyal? Do I really stick it to the end? I don’t know.. I just think my friends need to know I’ve learned alot from my drug experience. I learned how to love myself when Im sober. I’ve learned what drugs do to your emotions, to your mental healing and to the satisfaction of your life. I mean yeah, weed ocationally, is nothing.. but everyday becomes an addiction.
I used to say I never had an addiction.. but I REALLY did.. I mean I chose drugs over my first love. That’s all in the past.. no one deserves to feel down, and ashamed, guilty. No one deserves to forebode the future.. everyday mashes in with the next creating an endless day of being high..
Okay I just felt like typing. Im finished now, sorry.
“It’s like a cardiac arrest, only it happenes in the brain,
something responsible for holding the gray mass together abruptly shifts,
there is a sickening feeling of something terrible about to happen,
and the next thing your head is experiencing the awful sensation of being emptied out.
From some where inside the power goes down and the body seems to collapse into itself like a marionette being folded into a box.
You look for a way out, and what’s left of your broken brain does its best to oblige with images of high bridges and frozen ponds and nooses dangling from balconies.”
“I realize that there are worse things out there but to dream of having one good day
let alone a good week,
without having to feel anxiety or wanting to give up,
lost of concentration,
and no patients with family.
I dream to feel peace and happiness everyday.
And fight against this illness daily.”
“I ask you to imagine the unimaginable,
to think the unthinkable.
To experience second degree emotional burns
with third degree prognosis.
All you experience is pain, but with no cure. In fact,
there is no viable treatment.
You can attempt to salve it.
Only death solves it.”
I sit silently, waiting for an answer that spills out of their mouths like acid.
Burning my eyes, giving me prepossessed view of my decaying soul.
Where are their alert minds when substances arrest their ability to maintain controlled and comforting thoughts?
Do we, as teenagers find insanity beautiful?
As beautiful as a raging flame, and the sounds of defiant screams blasting contentment through an apprehensive mind?
A frequency of family affairs, unforgettable failures and the inability to censor our own lives makes insanity an imperfect perfection.
The only happiness and comfort turned to, when our parents are off climbing the ladder of authority at work or just fucking off, not realizing the fortune they have at home is rotting from the inside out.
Everyday your a little more alone, apathy increased, enabling thoughts of more insanity to cross our minds a little more predominantly.
But where are our friends?
Are they slouching beside you, eyes glazed over lost in an ambivalence of themselves? Or are they standing abruptly in your path to destruction?
Defying you anymore harm unto your withered soul?
What if no one stands in our degenerate paths? Where will we know to stop, or will these monster friends gnaw and pick at our brains like a crew of ravenous ravens?
It’s all a vicious cycle of pain and angst. If a friend asked, would you be the scissors to cut this endless cycle of pain, no matter what?
Or are you the one in need of dire help?