I Still Remember

 

I love drawing eyes.  

Drained- a bit low at the moment

 

    Pressure. I have to finish classes strong, look for a job or volunteer, decide if I will officially go off my medication or actually remain at the high dosage I started with (I think I need it more than ever at present….), all of this while watching my mother get ready to take a week long trip to visit my aunt in Atlanta.

 

I feel pathetic. My therapist gave me a questionnaire about self confidence and I think he’ll be disappointed to see how low it really is with me. You know, I’m seriously feeling pressure to do something about this sorry status I have. It’s as if I have to either get something moving, or just kill myself and get out of everyone’s way, and no longer be the disappointment they have to wonder about and eventually lose faith in completely.

 

I think of these things because I’ve gotten tired of being around with no purpose, and no drive to create one. I say so frequently now that it’s no one’s responsibility to keep me alive, and I will say now that I am tired of having that responsibility; I don’t want it either, just like no one else does.

 

 

I call this drawing “Drained”, trying to spark some creative thinking, that’s all this drawing is really about…..

 

 

In Dark, In Sleep

 

 

The dark, the blind and vulnerable

I am where subconscious urges roam

 

In fluid dreams; their disconnect

They speak of all things alien

 

In sleep, sorrowful memories

A fixed unease roots from the crease

 

My threaded thoughts fray unstrung

My secure world becomes undone

 

 

A simple one that started out apart of another poem I am working on. This section I thought was better on its own.

 

Night

     My mother got very upset today after failing a test for the second time required by her job. She missed the goal by one stupid point. She got an 89% instead of the mandatory 90%, and the people grading the tests weren”t decent enough to bump her grade up. But they don’t know that she’s got severe test anxiety. She came home early crying about the situation. As I was trying to talk her through it, she made the decision to go to the emergency room and talk to a counselor there. 

I am slightly envious that she so willingly decided to go to the hospital like that for emotional distress. I’ve only been close once I can remember about asking to go to the hospital, more than a year ago, when I didn’t want to go home and was suicidal. I didn’t end up going that time because I just couldn’t get the words to leave my lips that I needed to. A few bad things resulted from that, but i still don’t know if I’d willingly make it known that I needed to go to the hospital for a crisis like that. At times, it does scare me. The way I can so easily keep quiet and be secretive, even if every part of me knows it’s wrong and is fighting against it.

My mother’s alright now. From what she told me, she felt much better after she was able to talk to someone about what was going on at her job. Even though there are times I hate thinking about my therapy sessions, I will admit I like having someone to talk to like that. Face to face without worrying so much about judgement. But of course, I can’t tell my therapist everything. If I did, I am sure he’d suggest putting me away somewhere to be watched for a time probably. I don’t know what he’d suggest, but I know I wouldn’t be alright with it.

I am too good at lying…Beside that, I don’t think I know exactly what the full truth is anymore. If someone asked me how I feel, I wouldn’t have an answer. What does it mean when I don’t have an answer to that?……Anyway, here are a few lines I wrote a few weeks back.

 

Eyes of a soft shimmer, burst with glimmered tears

Tiny shards of sable songs

They fall and fall forever

Voices of desperation scratch gray until it bleeds

Beautiful insanity, lit spectacles of ruin

Drunken delusions slurred a world that made more sense

A timely dose of nightshade

So asleep, I’m almost dead.