Tell Me What You Want

Me talking to the therapist voice in my head

"okay, so what do you say when someone says they're not worth anything"

"Who the hell says they're worthless I'll fight them" "Alright, now what should you think when you're the one that feels like you're worthless" "Well I'd be right, I am worthless" "no-"

Solving Problems

Solving a problem

is about finding

the right tool.

Sometimes

You have the right tool

but forgot it.

Sometimes

You saw wrong

And you grabbed the hammer

When what you needed was a wrench.

Sometimes

You simply don't have it

And need to go to the store

To get the tool you need.

Sometimes

That tool is people.

New ideas, new methods, new tricks.

Everyone else has so much to teach us.

And sometimes

I stressed so much

I forgot the simple solution

and cried myself to sleep.

And maybe

maybe sometimes

there just isn't a perfect solution at all

and I have to just deal with it.

Or maybe I'm using a voltmeter and car battery

When what I actually need is a hand.

I'm Sorry. I'll Leave. I'll Go.

It appears that

I have done

something bad again.

It appears that

I have drawn

your ire again.

I'm sorry.

I'll leave.

I'll go.

Am I just

another filthy

attention-seeker?

Is this

another farce

I've made?

I'm sorry.

I'll leave.

I'll go.

Am I

Not even worth

The air I breathe?

Am I really

Such scum

And filth?

I'm sorry.

I'll leave.

I'll go.

Am I truly

Just another blight

On this world?

Should I

End it here

To not be a burden?

I'm sorry.

I'll leave.

I'll go.

Just say the words

and I'll make

my exit.

Just tell me to get out

and I'll heed

your command.

I'm sorry.

I'll leave.

I'll go.

I Ask

I repeat my lamentations forevermore

as I repeat the same actions

that create this melancholy suffering.

I ask, "Where has all the joy in the world gone?"

while I push it away and reject every inch

for I am afraid of allowing spring

into my frozen, quiet winter.

I ask, "Where have all the good men gone?"

as I fail to see that I myself

am not a good man,

and thus see little good in others.

I ask, "What can I do to make the right choices?"

as I look at the choices in front of me

the correct one obvious to my discerning eye

and choose the shortsighted option again.

I ask, "How can I be better?"

as I ignore the hard, effortful path to victory

the path taken by everyone else who won

and simply hope greatness will fall onto my silver platter

I ask, "Where is someone who will love me?"

as I fail to see the good in myself

and forget that love, like charity,

starts from within.

i think im just traumadumping with poetry at this point

As I put my elbow on the table and the hand under my mastoid bone and grab at my short hair I stop and think

wow okay, that felt strangely feminine why did I do that

Overachieving

Here's the test I scored well on.

Here's the competition I won an award in.

Is it enough for you? Will I be allowed happiness?

Can I talk to human beings again and pretend I am one of them?

The past year, no, two years, no, five, no -

The past over-a-decade has been nothing but more

so much more that whenever someone says "burnout is bad!"

I think inside, "I lived it; I breathed it; I became it; sounds like you just have a skill issue."

And I'm a terrible person for thinking that. If it hurt for me, it'll hurt for them.

But god damn if I have something else I'm proud of taken away from me again.

I come back with a 95. You ask, "why isn't it 96? 97? 100?" Or maybe you don't care. Just see that it's an 'A' and forget it by tomorrow.

I come back saying I did well. You ask, "and how exactly? What did you do? What did everyone else think?"

And I tell you because I'm a good child and I'm still that naive pushover who thinks the world is good and you are still family

And inside I pack up another bottle of anger and disappointment of various kinds of both you and myself.

And in the end I've had enough. You taught me how to shorten my fuse, and I've tried to make it last a little longer but you burn so hot.

I tell you to shut up and wait for the results. And inside I think but don't say: "You fucking asshole. Piece of shit that can't bother to be proud of their own child for fucking once."

So tired of your shit. So tired of being a good person to you because you're just an ass and you can't change that.

So tired of pushing forwards all the time. So tired of being pushed forwards all the time. Can't do it myself like a real human being.

So tired of being this mess who can't pull themselves together like a normal person. So tired of procrastinating and crying and sitting here wallowing in the exact same cesspool of angst.

So tired of doing everything wrong and right and being the perfect idiot child and pushing forwards and wading back and the whole fucking thing.

I'm just so, so fucking tired.

today i am going to run on the treadmill until either my lungs or my legs give out

the pain will remind me to exist

I Am A Good Person

I am a Good Person.

I must not get angry.

I must not fight people.

I must not shout.

I must not be angry.

I must not be sad.

I must not talk about my paltry issues.

I must not talk about what I want.

I must not be inconsiderate.

I must not be insensitive.

I must not appear threatening.

I must not allow my face to be percieved.

I must not speak to people.

I must not draw the attention of others.

I must not be extraordinary.

I must not be unique.

I must not appear unhappy.

I must not appear different.

I must not see myself as unhappy.

I must not see myself as happy.

I must not seek freedom.

I must not prioritize myself.

I must not hestitate to help others at the cost of myself.

I must not unshackle myself from the chains of my own design.

I must not escape these chains which hold myself back from both Heaven and Hell alike.

I am a Good Person.

Loneliness

A tree falls

Nobody around to hear

It makes a sound.

But it doesn’t matter.

I tell a joke

Not particularly good

People around

Nobody listening.

I laugh with myself.

I laugh at myself.

What a funny joke!

Both are funny jokes!

Is this how

God feels, in his kingdom

Of everything

High up above, alone