the cold

trigger warning: numbness, anxiety, low self-esteem, feeling like your life/emotions do not matter.

note: where there are asterisks, it’s me censoring my name, so i can still kinda use my name in poems and still maintain my anonymous blogger mystique. 😉


these days / i am so numb / that even speaking / feels like something’s wrong / feels like something i shouldn’t be doing my lips / are post-it notes pressed together / i can pry them open if i want to / but i don’t / speak in simple answers / yes or no / walk quiet footsteps / say yes more than no / wait to explode / i am / so cold that the rain no longer touches me / these days i am so numb and / i hate this person and / this person is / who you want me to become / these days / i am so numb that my brain is filled with the thrumming static you get when there’s no radio signal / and you’re trapped in the middle of nowhere and / all you want to know about is the fucking weather forecast so you’ll be able to mark it on a calendar / when you’ll stop feeling like this because / it is snowing now / the kind of snow you don’t realize can give you frostbite / because at first / it’s so soft / like time has stopped right in front of you / my whole body is an ice sculpture i am frozen mid sentence just begging for tomorrow to get there because tomorrow i can pretend that everything will be different / tomorrow / it won’t feel like i have sticks and stones and broken bones where my heart used to be / mouth moving without thinking / a part of me holding protest rallies explaining / all the logical reasons why we should not stop breathing / snap out of it ***** / your feelings do matter / except i am not doing anything / i am freezing and when i was little / i liked “let it go” / before i knew that was cliché / as in the song from the movie / liked that / it covered all my feelings / scared / sad / numb / angry / trapped / lonely / i don’t think anyone else felt that way / felt blizzards inside themselves / gentle enough to stop long enough to make you stay but / angry enough to freeze you to death after / ***** snap out of it we have things to be doing / i am an iceberg and i am melting / i am an iceberg and you don’t know half of me / i don’t know half of me / where is my heart / where is the part of me /  that felt things


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*****

trigger warning: mentions of self-harm, suicide mention, anxiety, obviously self-hatred, and some heavier-than-usual swearing

also, a note: where i have asterisks, it’s to censor out my name, because. you know. i have a blogger mystique to maintain. you can know it’s five letters, though. 😉


a poem by my self-hatred

 

*****, why the fuck can’t you can’t you just follow. the goddamn. assignment, stop asking your teachers questions, they don’t want to hear it. shut up, no one wants to hear your mind screaming out loud. why the hell do you think it is the way it is? //  no one wants to be your friend. you’re an idiot. you’re socially awkward. you’re way. too. different. and you don’t get it, and for god’s sake, just stop talking right away, you are entitled and vain and manipulative, and everyone else knows it, and if they do not know it, they will know it soon, because you will be horrible to them, just like you have been horrible to all of those people before them, your heart a black hole every relationship you attempt to forge will fall into. // and why the do you dress like this? why are your sweaters all baggy? and like what’s the problem with nice jeans? why do you always have to be awkward? why do you always have to be dirty? and oh god,  why can’t you just hold a fork right, you’ve been eating since you were a baby, get a life and get a grip and you should be able to eat lunch in front of other people by now, shut up already. // *****. i hate your name, by the way, *****. it sounds like a shrunken head. looks like pieces of fabric pulled together. *****, smells like rotting roses. *****. why do you exist? i understand you have asked your mother this. ask her again. ask her again. slam yourself against the brick walls inside you until your whole body shatters before you, and then again. try again. try again. try again. because all i know is that you are different, and i don’t like you being different, and could you just sacrifice your mental health a little more than you already did, because other people don’t care about their feelings and other people do it. // and why the can’t you look at memes and play video games and know about tv and youtube and tumblr and like youtube and tumblr and use grammatically correct sentences when you write poetry. why can’t you be normal. why can’t you be simple. why can’t get more exercise. why can’t you be easy why. why are you like this? // *****, why do you insist on liking your teachers, you should not be like this. // *****. why can’t you be professional? you’re such a bitch. you’re always breaking the rules like this, just follow them, or you will never get a job as a writer, and that will make you suicidal, and the suicidal will make you depressed, and the depressed will become the lake you drown in, and you will drown, and no one will ever listen to you, because your thoughts may not be worthless, but they are not worth enough, and if you want to make your way out there you have to earn millions. // *****, can’t you just work hard for once? can’t you just suck it up and be a normal person for once? do you not see why i want to punch you so much? like of all the places to take out your anxiety did you have to pick your forehead, your insecurities blasted into you so everyone can see it? did you have to chameleon so easily to what the people around you said? did you have to be such a goddamn idiot? why can’t you get it through your head: they don’t really want to be your friends. i don’t really want to be your friends an they will never want to be your friends until you can be a little more boring, and don’t you know you’d look prettier if you just sucked the colour out of your cheeks? // don’t you know you’d look prettier if you just smiled more often. if you just said yes. if you just acted exactly like they did, because having opinions is a terrifying business. so maybe they’d wrap you up in false love which you are already beyond and above if you broke the bones of your opinions until they crumbled to dust. until you could be normal, normal like she was. normal like he was. you will not be a human being until you are normal. you will not be a human being until… you… just…


this poem was inspired by maia mayor’s “perfect.” (trigger warning: mention of drug use, and also the whole poem is about having an emotionally abusive parent.) it’s heavy, but at least for me, it was good. if you’re interested, you can watch it here. also, the concept of recording your self-talk was inspired by this short film about anxiety. (which i am right now kind of in love with.)


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on trying to figure out who i really am

trigger warning: anxiety, confusion, low self-esteem

note: wherever there’s a string of asterisks, it’s because in the original poem on my google docs, there was my name, but, i don’t want to put that up on the internet, so: asterisks. i mean, come on, i have a blogger mystique to maintain!


today we watched / this documentary about multiple personality disorder and if i heard right i think they told us that when we’re younger, everyone kinda has multiple personalities, but as you get older those personalities coalesce into one / is this why old people are usually opinionated and boring? because / i don’t want to be opinionted and boring because / then no one will love me then no one will want me then / i will be sitting on the corner of the sidewalk with a sign on my lap saying LOVE ME and you will walk past me, and i will be crying inside / i will be the skeletal dandelion coming up in the sidewalk, leaves turning grey in the wind, desperately trying to flower bright enough to convince the world of its beauty because it did nothing wrong / i mean to my knowledge i did nothing wrong except for being a bad person / because i am walking a tightrope and one word is all it takes to make everything collapse from the way it used to be / i am floating in a vacuum i am floating in a void / and you don’t understand i am successful i will be successful i must be successful or i will hate me / and if i am successful i don’t need help / i don’t need extensions and i can beat your deadline / i can always do better than everyone else / i can dull the stress down / i can stay awake all night / i refuse to be normal / i refuse to not understand / i refuse to send you a two-word email / that only reads HELP ME / i am successful and if i fail i will no longer be good enough / i am successful and if i fail my self-esteem will shatter on the ground and i’ll be a messed up maze of metallic heartstrings and broken bones / if i fail / you don’t get it / if i fail / my mistakes are sinkholes / my mistakes have been highlighted a thousand times over my mistakes have been apologized for so many times in a row that i can’t even meet your eyes anymore / and you don’t understand / your tripped-on-my-shoelaces-oh-well-let’s-get-up-again / is my broken bone / my wrong word is enough to land me in hospital for weeks on end / my compulsions have me in their iron grip like kidnappers and they are not letting go / they are not letting go… / my hands are not meant for throwing punches they meant for holding hands but what if no one wants to hold my hand and i get angry sometimes / your successes are your mountains /and somehow you know how to close your eyes / bask in the sunlight / try to melt your worries like ice /  like if i climb enough mountains inside me like / if i buy enough lottery tickets sold to me by my anxiety / someday / i will win what it promised me except anxiety does not keep its promises that is the whole fucking definition of anxiety / and ***** why can’t you sleep like your body wants you to / it’s only one night / you need to rest sometimes / and why can’t you just / try fighting / try not letting yourself get swept away into your mind / just try / but / how do you try / when you’re numb inside / and it’s hard to breathe / and there’s something that’s tackling your whole body / have you ever wondered / what it would be like to try and walk across the universe without stopping / because that’s me / because / i am drifting / through this rainstorm / of nothing and everything at the same time / i will shape my personality all i want / is for someone to just promise me they will love me / always / unconditionally / i will mold myself to your eyes / i will do anything / anything / anything / inside / i am standing in a monsoon and everywhere i am flooding / i am starving / skin and bones a tent meant for summer that’s been left out in the snow / my metal skeleton crumpling in on itself / here is my heart / will you love me for it anyhow / here is my voice / and here is a keyboard write whatever you like on me / the lonely / is a parasite / and i think it’s trying to kill me


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anxiety poem

trigger warning: as you may be able to guess… this poem is about anxiety! beware! ahead lies heavy feelings!


anxiety is not fear. anxiety is fear, if fear were genetically modified and on steroids and was also rabid, chasing after you like you are everything it has ever wanted and no one taught it that running after your prey is not the best way to catch it, except actually in anxiety’s case it is, because anxiety’s stamina unlike my own seems unlimited. and the thing is if you run, it’s only going to chase after you faster, only going to scream louder until it feels like it’s blasting out all the parts of you that have ever listened to music, soft and slow and ok and safe, and you can’t honestly tell, if the threats are or are not empty. because. all i know is, anxiety does not try to hurt you. anxiety just takes your source of food away, day by day by day and gradually you forget what it feels like. to be ok. what it feels like, to trust completely, falling into the ocean of someone else without looking away.  what it feels like to be happy. happy and ok. happy. when i say that word, it always makes me think of blowing bubbles watching them glow iridescent right around the time when the sun sets. and i remember, that night, telling you that i was a bubble person. at the time, i didn’t think there was anything deep to it. but now i realize what i meant was that my happy can be beautiful and confident, but the slightest gust of wind is enough to pop it. my happy is a sunny day in april. my happy is a dandelion seed clinging to the place where the flower used to be, hoping for some kind of job security. my happy is a mountain, but you’re on a day trip. and it’s ok. i guess i get it. my anxiety is this filter, shaping the words as they slide out of my mouth. my anxiety is a search engine in my mind that only gives you bad results. my anxiety is a paranoid bank teller that makes you sign your name three times, and then more. and then more. and then more. like the margin of error can just be eliminated if we spray enough weed-b-gone on the parts of the world that make our hearts feel like they’re cracking open. like if i close my eyes, the problems will go away.  my anxiety is a student taking a test who reads over the blank page again and again and again because they keep losing their train of thought and they’re just not sure what to say. my anxiety is a potion that was supposed to make me shrink, and shrink, and shrink, like fruit if you leave it in the sunlight. only, maybe i’ve overdosed, because it isn’t making me smaller, it’s making me larger, and taller, and higher, and higher, and higher, and i’m scared i’ll break the ceiling with the waterfall of these feelings. my happy is fleeting. my dreams are clouds, and i’m not sure which ones are solid and which ones i’m just dreaming. my anxiety is a smoke alarm that’s slowly taking away my ability to hear anything, so if i’m screaming too loud please tell me because i can’t even hear myself breathing. in my head, there’s this space i call a stadium, a part of me that’s been hollowed out, a part of me like a blank blackboard. write whatever you want, put me in a cast and sign your signature, because what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger and therefore good parenting is crushing the dreams of your daughter. and i will let you do all this, because the anxiety is the kind of poison that leaves you in paralysis. i will let you do this, i’m scared; scared enough to hide under the bed trying to distance myself from all of this. and i’m not going to say it’s the worst coping mechanism, because it isn’t, and i’m glad i can do it. take deep breaths. not allow myself to get hooked in i just. i wish it wasn’t like this. i wish it didn’t scare me, that there are people who can spend all day swimming through other people’s feelings without even realizing. but i am not one of those people. my lungs, they were made for talking, and sometimes i hate that, but i don’t know if it matters because i am no longer and fuck you anxiety, so i do a lot of talking, so i do a lot of tightrope walking wondering where the highway of the past will merge into that of the future, and my heart is so open i feel like i am at the edge of putting myself into the public domain some days and other days, like my chest is a treasury of words no one can ever touch and yeah,  that scares me. because this is fear, if fear were a tumor confidently destroying the rest of my body with a sureness i cannot seem to find, a confidence i am trying desperately to grow in palms like the stock images told me to, and nothing has come up yet so i’m not sure if it’s even working, but i do know i am trying. and maybe trying is selfish. that’s what she tells me. but. i am trying. i am trying. i am fighting. i am fighting. i am swimming.  i am running. i am writing. i am climbing.


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