how to find a feeling

trigger warning: numbness and confusion

close your eyes; the world hurts too much. ask if anyone’s seen the part of you that cared, and point to the hole in your chest, and when other people don’t see it, grab out your goddamn magnifying glass. show them the cuts and scrapes and bruises. show them the emptiness, but of course they won’t get it, so maybe it doesn’t exist. rock yourself asleep against the quiet nothingness. love is the feeling that makes your heart slam rhythms into your chest this is the start of the song of your life the inspirational posts on tumblr did tell me this. my life is a song but… i don’t know the lyrics yet. hope for something to last so hard it feels like you’re about to shatter the glass heart nestled in chest but i’m still not sure what it is. take off your glasses let the whole world shift in and in and out and in and out of focus. there will be screaming forests and the horror stories and the haunted houses. it’s a choice yes but it’s a choice made out of the belief that i am nothing if i am not a nice neat package. and you’ll call them up begging for someone to remind you why you are alive but the words will stay silent inside and oh my god the sound of your voice is enough to bring every single memory to life, and oh my god why do i want to just die sometimes, and oh my god why do the nightmares follow me every and every night, and i’m spinning again, because the feelings are too much. and i’m punching again and trying to see if this time i can leave bruises because bruises mean some kind of validation, and some kind of closure, and closure means permanence, and i swear i’m working through it with my therapist but right now her office is the only place my mind even makes sense. but maybe these feelings are not just feelings. maybe they are really just a message, and it’s all there in front of me written in code if only i could read it. and maybe someday the ghosts in my chest will all assemble into order and bow before me and start cleaning out my chest. and what i mean by that is every single one of these letters is art but it’s also just me knocking doors in the middle of the night, hoping someone will get it without words when i hold the magnifying glass up to the tears pooling in my eyes. and it’s also just my heart filling up like a hot air balloon before exploding all night. and it’s also my lungs. breathing. and the oceans inside me. and it’s also the feeling of your arms wrapped around my shoulders and my arms wrapped around your shoulders and the way it’s the warmest feeling that even though i’m not sure what it is, something about me made this person care enough to wrap their arms around me. and i still can’t really believe that somewhere between the broken pieces, i managed to make you happy.


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7p.m.

hey guys! so this poem is part of a series i call my “hourly poems” which are obviously… for every hour of the day and the mood i think that hour represents. i’ll probably be posting some more of these over the next couple weeks… so keep  your eyes out! 🙂


it’s not the things you say that scare me. ‘cause i can handle the empty punches. you don’t know me, and you cannot yank my self-esteem out of my chest if you don’t even know where my heart is; i’ve been there, done that, protected myself with so many padlocks and camouflaged my emotions so thoroughly that sometimes i’m not sure anyone even notices only to shout them to the world, maybe just out of loneliness. no. what scares me is that the monsters look so human; can sit right beside you in your early-morning class and as long as you keep your head down they look just the same as everyone else; do not walk around with labels on their heads. it’s that it’s like we’re all playing nicky-nicky-nine-doors on each other’s hearts, knocking on lobby doors only to run away because we’re scared of being seen by anyone who might notice there’s a person, buried somewhere inside us, underneath false smiles and wreckage. it’s that. sometimes i wonder if any of us ever sleep at night, or if we just stay awake, pretending we need nothing, pretending we’re ok, when none of us are ok, when the phrase “everyone has something” feels more like a curse than a blessing. it’s that i think i would go to war if that meant you would love me more than anything, compromising my values for my sanity. so it’s not the words that scare me, it’s that you’re willing to hand them out to strangers and be ok with that when you do not even know the targets of your hatred. it’s that there’s that much hatred bubbling just below the surface. it’s that you’re willing to hand it out to strangers. it’s that that’s “all right.” it’s that this is your “normal.” it’s that you seem to think that if you laugh hard enough, you won’t even feel anything much. it’s that this is one massive costume party, and none of us know what to do or say so we just sorta stand there, trying to get up the courage to break the ice but not knowing what lies beneath it, and maybe we’ll drown, because we’ve drowned before, so screw icebreakers. icebreakers are dangerous, especially in the summer, when i get so close to screaming. all of this, everything, out onto the ground before me, for better or for worse my heart rushing ahead of my logical reasoning. it’s that. somewhere inside you there’s supposed to be a heart, supposed to be reason and mercy and feelings, only i’ve looked, and i’ve tried, and i’ve followed the directions google gave me and now i’m sort of standing here, in the middle of nowhere. and i can’t find it.


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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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