i don’t want to think about it

it’s not that i can’t keep up. it’s not that i’m lazy. i’m just… tired. and sometimes, the idea of getting up and just doing this whole thing all over again makes me want to collapse on the ground, and stay there. broken.

it’s not that i’m selfish. it’s not that i’m being dramatic. i’m sorry. i don’t understand a lot of things in my life at the moment.

it’s not that i’m scatterbrained. i just have a lot of monsters in my head that really need to be tamed. and i’m just trying to get by. trying to shoulder the stress, and swallow my pride, and somehow make it through the day. all right?

it’s not that i want to hurt you. it’s not that i’m a bad daughter, or a bad friend, or a bad student. and believe me, you’re not the only one who wishes things were different.

and i’m sorry i’m always like this. i’m sorry i run myself down to nothing, and then wonder why i feel like shit. i just… right now, i am beyond exhausted.

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i think i’m going to explode

and if you don’t know what i’m talking about, maybe you’ve never had anxiety. maybe you’ve never felt your heart pound, and your thoughts race, and you’re too tired to feel like this but you can’t help but worry anyway. 

maybe you’ve never been awake this late at night writing poetry, because you don’t know what else to do with your life. as your stomach crumples inward. and the voices scream, and as it starts to fall apart.

and it’s your fault. it’s your fault. it’s your fault. and it’s my fault, it’s my fault, it’s my fault…

and something’s going to go wrong eventually. you’re going to do something wrong eventually. you are going to explode eventually.

did i ever mention that sometimes living with a brain like this feels like a disability?

Another anxiety poem. I’ve been really struggling with perfectionism lately.

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this is me (spoken word)

So for those of you who’ve seen the movie/listened to the soundtrack like I have, you can probably tell that this was inspired by “This is Me” from The Greatest Showman, a song which has been really important to me over the past six months or so. Just wanted to acknowledge that–thank you so much to that song for everything it’s done for me and for getting me through a lot of really, really bad days. Now, with that out of the way, here’s some quick backstory: As a kid, I never really fit in. For four years (ish) I was bullied by a girl who would claim to any onlookers she was my friend, until I believed it myself–that this was what friendship was. Begging someone to hurt you because then they would stop being angry; your worth and value hanging on one person’s volatile and rarely positive feelings. It wasn’t just her. Everywhere I looked, someone just turned me away. There wasn’t a single person in the world who I trusted with the whole of me.  Even now, when things are starting to actually get better… well, it’s hard. Normal teenagers have to build themselves up from nothing; I have to tear everything I spent my whole childhood believing down to nothing and start over. And I just wanted to write something that felt like a first step forward to me. Anyway, I hope this poem means something to you, and thanks so much for listening. -dragonwritesthings

Inspired by “This is Me” from The Greatest Showman OST

Music from here: https://patrickdearteaga.com/

Poem copyright to me. Read the text here.

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borrowed time

it just feels like i’m standing at the edge of the world tonight. taking deep breaths through shallow lungs and trying to think clearly through a mind that refuses to function.

and somehow i’ve held on through all the highs and lows, but it doesn’t really matter, because in the end i’m still going to end up alone.

because it’s written in neon lights, and i can’t read the signs, and maybe if it’s this hard i shouldn’t even try. and then i’m shutting down. and then i’m on the floor, with my hands over my eyes, and it doesn’t really matter what’s happening, because right now nothing feels like real life.

and is this really real life? because i can’t make sense of it. can’t slip it into order, and pretend it’s all right.

and i always come back to this place in the end. to pushing you away accidentally, and overthinking everything, and just wanting to sleep but never sleeping, and wanting to leave but not saying anything, and here i am again. writing poetry, while i hide in the locker bay. pretending, that i’m the only one who feels this way.

For a little bit of explanation, the locker bay where I go to school is usually empty in the middle of the block, so whenever I have a panic attack in class I usually go there to calm down, since for some weird reason it feels like one of the most private places on the campus.

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“people with self-esteem are stupid”

trigger warning: self-harm, general heavy and potentially triggering content

i. self-destruction is the only worthwhile thing about me. so i’ll smile wide as i tear myself apart, and then take a selfie. because it’s cute, right? totally.

and my past rolls out behind me. and the future looms before me, and someone say something please tell me i’m not  making this up, because everywhere i look all i can see is the world ending–

ii. it’s been a while. and the self-harm marks are finally fading. which should be a good thing. but even the idea of not having physical validation of the fact that i am sick is terrifying. 

the idea of being better is terrifying. because i’ve never really seen myself without this anxiety, like the cat who came back constantly trailing behind me. 

iii. and it hurts. and it hurts. and it hurts. but it also leaves. and i know who i am.  i know who i want to be.

i am the first step forward. i am a shaking hand, extended toward yours. i am thunder, and rain, and lightning, and words like a snowstorm. 

and i am not anxiety. i was never anxiety. or any of the other shit you liked to tell me. i’m me. i always have been, and i always will be. and you can try. but i don’t think you’ll ever be able to take that away from me. 

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