Chaotic Technicality

Music I listened to while typing this poem out:

Without You – Oh Wonder

I didn’t want to push, rush the chaos                                                                     Oh good old chaos, destruction                                                                           reconstruction of this mind digging torture

You know, no one can drill in                                                                                 deep where there is only surface now                                                                       so get chipping away

Use your best tools and your latest techniques                                                 mine are so old and as concrete                                                                                     I don’t worship things anymore                                                                               but I like the idea that I’m already                                                                           creating a home for myself

After I leave this dreaded head space                                                                           I walk around so weak and I used to                                                                     appear quiet because I didn’t want                                                                     people to know about me

Now I trudge around dragging my demons                                                       along my skin for people to see but                                                                             I don’t bother with quick answers

Conversations, I love those. Intellectual                                                             spill your cries and what makes you cringe.

I live for what’s holding people back so                                                                     I can compare my pain I need out,                                                                             so maybe stop digging now and                                                                               just throw yourself ontop of me                                                                             while my body sleeps and                                                                                         soul drifts towards the bottom

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Regardless, I care.

I care about you                                                                                                                                                                               I won’t make you feel bad                                                                                                                                                               if you don’t feel the same

I want you in my life                                                                                                                                                                         I won’t make you feel bad                                                                                                                                                               if you don’t feel the same

I feel comfortable with you                                                                                                                                                               I won’t guilt trip you                                                                                                                                                               regardless of how you feel

Wandering Self

Song I listened to while writing this poem:

Maps & Habits ( 3LAU Mashup )

I’d only be lying if I said everything’s been fixed                                                                                                                   best it’s going to ever be, but how does one that                                                                                                                   things won’t slightly change for better or worst

I’d only be truthful if I said I’ve been feeling                                                                                                                       sorry for myself because atleast I feel visible, if                                                                                                                 almost everyone I know has disentegrated like                                                                                                                     the salt in my wounds

I’d only be lying if I said I didn’t have anything                                                                                                                           I have the sweat on my back and only the present                                                                                                                 and future to make things right

I’d only be truthful if I said I mostly look back and                                                                                                               compare myself with my old self and wonder where                                                                                                           exactly I had lost most, if not all, of my sanity, when                                                                                                               my smallest troubles turned into bigger problems

Darkening Depths

Here it is, I can sense it
This, feel something
Creeping, wiping
Everything that ever felt right, good
Vanishing, clambering
All I’ve ever felt about anything, everything
Crawling, scratching
At all I am, might be
Dark, tight around my vocal chords
Eating, swallowing the words I need to define, describe this
Closing around, drowning me
We are falling apart and all I want to do is find the exact moment, figure it out
The time, incident in which we started to drift apart
But what confuses me, conflicts my thoughts
Are the times we share that come to interfere, interject
Consume me and help me feel like i can believe we’ll be okay
And those are the feelings that make me stay
The good, the bad, the overriding of comfortability
Worrying, because I want to feel you
I see people smiling, holding hands
And my heart breaks
I see people laughing, running into eachother’s arms
And every ounce of me that ever felt joy instantly disappears from sight, burying itself
All I want to do is hold you
But I feel you fading
All I want to do is wave a wand and crack it over ourselves and have the magic drip from it into our mouths and tell me that the distance is just an obstacle that can be kicked away
I just want to know if you’re still in it, this, us
Is this, us, are we what you want, need,
crave?
Sometimes you vanish far and I’m not sure whether you’re still there or if I’m just blind from all of the pain
And you see me like people have before, but things come easy and difficult at the same time
Light and dark meet and I just give you what i can, not what i need to, want to give you
My heart and maybe one day, if you want it, you can have it

Alone is okay.

When you’re a kid, sometimes other children may poke fun at you because they see you sitting by the wall alone while they are playing on the playground. You just want to play by yourself or even sing songs to yourself.

When you’re a teenager, other teens calls you boring because you don’t want to drink underage or even in general and you’d rather stay inside on a friday night watching your favourite movie, rather than go to house parties or clubs with your friends. Being around people either brings you anxiety or you just prefer to spend time alone with your own thoughts.

When you’re an adult, many other adults will notice that you can barely keep a job long enough to even say that you’ve had a job or you don’t have a partner so you won’t most likely won’t find one in a long time. Maybe it’s just hard for you to be around people or even animals for some, maybe depression makes its’ way into your head and drags you down and makes it harder for you to make it out of the house for even as something simple as a coffee.

Regardless, it’s okay to have mental illnesses. They don’t define you. It’s also okay to prefer to be alone. Sometimes for some people, being alone is more beneficial for them than conversing with someone else.

Therapeutic Balances

On Friday October 17th, I had a consultation with a new therapist because recently I’ve decided that I need help with my mental health in general because I’ve put it off for many years and I just keep thinking that quick fixes get me places.

Quick fixes in my experience, really are just quick. They aren’t fixes, but that term just seems to follow the work “quick” sometimes.

Whether it be alcohol, antidepressants or even both of those mixed together. Longboarding, writing, singing, taking walks only soothes the soul so much when you’re burying the things that need to be worked on, pushed through.

For me, I’ve been struggling with dysphoria, with staying at jobs even through the hard times and just other things that have seem to have grown.

At first, I wasn’t sure how my appointment was going to go, because I get really nervous with Psychiatrists and Therapists, professionals in a whole. I got there early, which I wasn’t sure was going to happen seeing as I had to take two transit busses and then a subway to get there and so I waited for a bit.

While I was in the appointment, I felt so free… I’m used to telling complete strangers almost my entire life in stories and poems and whatever, but with therapists, it’s a hit and miss type situation for me. I either hide many details of my life, or I spill almost way too much. This time, I spilt enough information to help me feel great about it.

One minute I want therapy, the next I don’t, but this time I have a great feeling that I’m going to finally allow myself to get the help that I need. I realize that I may never end up being okay without therapy, but I’ll never know unless I try.

Soul Department

I constantly wear something, it doesn’t glow, but it doesn’t radiate light                                                                                         Call it a mask, but I’d rather refer to it as a piece of cloth that was ripped                                                                                  from my skin                                                                                                                                                                                   It appears smooth, when it is really scruffy on the outside

Underneath, crawling insecurities bleeding through, pushing onwards                                                                                       It’s been molded perfectly, as though someone knew what it would look like                                                                           before it was placed                                                                                                                                                                 ontop of my bones

Scraping is impossible, tearing it off is what people                                                                                                                 have been trying to do to reveal                                                                                                                                       something else

But what they want to see is what they already are seeing, they just don’t care to believe it                                                               So digging inside is what they attempt to do, clawing, scratching at the windows of a soulless body