Monthly Archives: February 2013

Don’t leave the worst out.

The Hate You Mean

Speak your heart.
Don’t leave the worst out – your hurt just for me,
The hate you mean.

I never needed you to lie. It rests at my foundation.
The sick of soul feeds from inside,
Scraping clean my humanness…

She is begging to die.

 —

Something I wrote days before deciding to leave the bakery.

I’ve eaten nothing for three days now. Still managed to do my routine exercising this morning, but definitely took it easy – I had no choice with the chest pain/short breath, but I felt better afterward at least. And I don’t feel like I have a choice but to keep myself empty until I have a reason not to be. There are no interviews, no plans to look forward to – just more nothing. A lack of will and lack of “life goals” that has no easy fix. I thought about contacting my doctor, but what can he do or anyone else? We discussed my taking a trip, but I’m in no condition to go anywhere by myself. And beside that, there will be the same emptiness to return home to. I’d rather not return at all.

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Say it’s over…

Drawn From the Darkness

The painting here started out as just a portrait referencing a cool photo (an Amy Lee stage pic), but the more I worked on it the more I saw the sky/cloud background as necessary–something I had to see through.

Today I went to therapy and spilled most of what’s been going on. We talked and I left feeling as if he’s taken my hand and led me at least several steps away from the edge. I’m considering a trip on my own somewhere, and with the money I’ve saved it’s all at my say as to when.

The clip below is a partial piano cover of a song called “The Change”. I just love the lyrics and wanted to express them in my own way.

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An Ill feeling.

A crayon disaster…

Like always,

You do what you’re told
Always here, always there.

Like always,

You have nowhere else –
No will to follow

And the rest of what you are left as
Will not let go.

Just warming up. I hate the way I look when I’m singing…lol Sorry for looking so awful here, btw. It’s a day after I’d given my notice at the bakery. I’d just finished up with looking online for other jobs…

I drove to pick up my last check there this morning and was surprised to see someone else was already being trained at part of all that I was doing. No one else said hello to me or goodbye on my way out. All of that’s okay though. If the new chick stays three months, after surely having some kind of confrontation/words with the owner and being trapped in a number of overwhelming situations, they might have a good one to keep.

It’s going to take time to stop feeling like a tossed piece of trash, but I know now it wasn’t a mistake to remove myself from the situation. I was very unappreciated and feel more pity than anything for the one replacing me. From all of this though, I’m drifting without much will or direction. I’m sad to see the end of a situation not equal the end of my time here all together honestly– that I’ll have to start over and things may be worse than what I just got away from.

 

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One sweet day…

This is painted on an extra piece of the wrapping paper I’d painted and used for the gift package I put together for my mother some weeks ago.

I know my songs, poor live recordings already, have probably gotten worse- looser and overall messes, but that’s what would define me as of now and apologizing for it changes none of that. I’m basically running my self down physically by eating little and over exercising, all to feel as though I’m getting somewhere and to numb feeling so badly about all that’s happened. It’s hard to hide and every time I go a little too quiet, my mother brings up some random talk of the hospital.

It really doesn’t matter to me what happens now. Going to therapy as I used to gave consistency, which is gone now. And the more I think of the beginning and where I was when I sought help, what I’ve done since and am at this moment is nothing to be proud of or deserving of more time.

So, that’s what this poem below is about; my expectations and where I’ve failed. some lines were left out as lyrics in my recording, but the point is there.

My Constant

Remember?

I started out tied down,
Lights out in a locked up room –
But however it was, I wrestled my way through
To the outside for you.

Less with the expectation I would be taken a saved life.
I needed someone to witness and hear why it is
I deserve to die.

Yet I am here to say it,
By this needle and thread I survived.
Losing myself to the same shameful loops –
Wasted time of a fool, I survive…

And still you remain at the corner of mind
Refusing to refuse
Of all people, all us pieces, all us problems – Me

How is it you believe? Is it honor?
The patience and strength far and ever out of my reach?
Strangled by your dreams and those of the angel
I only wish I could be…

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Knit

Some left over sketches.

I gave my two weeks’ notice to the bakery today. Typed and signed. I said they should call me in advance within that time if I’m needed (otherwise I won’t be showing up at all). I left in the seventh hour, just as I was once again being pulled from one task before it was complete to do something else. I got angry in that instance and after beginning the task I was asked to do, I quietly and calmly took a breath – put down my tools, clocked myself out and left.

They’ve pulled me here and there like a frayed elastic band for over six months and today I’d had enough. I might crash and burn in the coming days, completely starve the rest of what’s still alive within, but right now I’m feeling the relief of a clean escape. ”Clean” as in I have no regret and no shame.

Whatever it is we’re all supposed to do with our lives at my age- be damned. It hasn’t worked for me and won’t. If that means I’m going to lose and gain nothing, at least it will be my own way.

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With all my love.

“All life lives on if we’ve ever loved it…”- Secret Door, Evanescence. An unexpected painting. Recycled a card board box…

A Life Enough

A life
But not alive enough
Falling completely and with all love
I’ve long stopped trying to reach above
The sick and quiet I was spun from

Another bone slammed against an edge
Why hurt me when I can simply hurt myself?
You get into everything and become all of me
The only reason not to live I know I’ll ever need

I submitted a few songs to an actual songwriting forum and I’m totally convinced now there is a huge separation between why I put together songs and why the rest say should be the reason. I couldn’t believe how much time was spent piecing apart- finding flaws- in songs I intend to leave as is. Just like with my paintings, when I say I’m done there is no going back with the brush to ruin what was meant to be left alone. No matter how awkward or ugly/scary it may seem.

It was my mistake to think I’d actually find support in going that route, but when you hear nothing more often, even the worst hurt is welcome. My world is falling apart as I type this- wondering how many more weeks I’ll endure a job that’s crushing me in all ways. Stop trying to survive it. Stop eating- suffer dehydration and wait to drop dead somewhere between coming and going.  It’s a plan I already have five days in on. Others tossing me their two cents of what I “need to do” is not a way out. That kind of understanding is not real. So I will stay quiet as I have been. It’s all easier when you know the end is near. That’s always been the motivation, just stringing me along. Years over done.

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Up against my own.

Face of the Dark- Crayon drawing.

The Toll

Do you know how it is to exist here
Full on emptiness?
Do you understand how much must be bled
When the day ends?
Once the mind must fold up against it’s own darkness?

There is nowhere safe when breath is pain.
There is no other way I can live,
And little it means to me now, whatever you could give –
You wouldn’t anyway.
Spoken the same, all these years I’ve seen no change.

Do you know?
I didn’t think so.
Let me go.


http://official.fm/tracks/W0PO?artwork=1&tracklist=1&width=500&height=200&artwork_left=1&skin_bg=000000&skin_fg=FFFFFF

Just when I think I have a clear way out, I find it’s only another turn in the maze.

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