It’s pathetic. I keep thinking about it.
I went to my family reunion today. It was a little bit more on the side of being a disappointment this year, as last year was, but hey, I didn’t expect I’d be around another year to make it to the ‘09 reunion, so anyway. I won a few prizes in the raffle. I made it through the whole day without getting frustrated with my surroundings like last year. But I’m not so sure that means improvement. It only means I had a lucky day where nothing broke the surface.
I’m going to take an extra 50mg of my medication tonight. Something’s not going right here. I keep thinking about taking my knife out, and using it to cut something besides just my tablet pills in half. This doesn’t happen often. But it’s like there are tears I’m keeping held so tightly from falling. I believe crying won’t be enough; that it’ll make this all worse and I will no longer have anything at all to hold onto, you know?
Look at me. Trying to explain a feeling I just can’t make sound very rational. There’s not too much about the person I am and what I feel that makes sense anymore. I’m guilty. My constant gloomy moods do feel like they are my fault. All my fault. And everything I’ve done lately to save myself has fallen short.
It might happen. The next time this odd feeling of being abandoned in some way by another person, or too full on sadness, or too sick with the world or the very body I’m trapped in…When I can’t breathe as I think of how I’m so easily thrown aside by others; or further, when I feel I should not only be thrown aside but shredded up and thrown away. I’ve got to deal with this some way.
I’m slowly working on new writings, but I’m definitely repeating myself. What’s below is something I wrote that hints at the three month course I took. I feel just as connected to it right now though. Just in a slightly different way.
Pages of butchered work
Somewhere else, I went
From all hell…this evidence
A slit throat of hurt
They made me out in the dark
Zaps, frizz and jitter of will
Cycled in unreal certainty; the chill
Guarded shrine of my still, dead heart
To be given a chance
The lie must be exquisite
A firm belief; a rare incision’s
Edge and unknown plan
July 18, 2009 at 10:37 pm
Hang in there. You are not alone in how you feel. It will get better as long as you keep trying every day. Use all of the resources for help that you can and don’t give up.
You are a fantastic photographer and poet. I am glad to have stumbled in. :)
July 19, 2009 at 11:36 pm
Are you certain there might not be some improvement? I don’t know, but sometimes I like to think that even that temporary feeling of being alright in some kind of drastic social situation is at the very least a step in the right direction.
It’s not all your fault. It isn’t, I mean that. You never chose to feel like this, you never said you wanted to feel broken all of the time. You’re doing all you can do: handling the cards you’ve been dealt to the best of your ability. I hope the medication does help. All I can say is what I always say, and we both know it doesn’t fix anything. I want things to get better for you. All we can do in this world, it seems, is wait. And how useless it feels.