everybody but me

take it.
take it with tea.
maybe some drama and flair.
just take it.

a constant failure.
a never ending fear.
a dream forgotten, never wanted.
someone else.

she gave up.
why cant i?
the water is so inviting.
right?

no purpose driven.
grasping at straws
and tiny leaves
laughing fools.

small canvas
large brush.
no paint
no muse.

i broke my heart
by crying too much.
wishing the water would take me.
instead i stay.

wishing for a home
that doesn't exist.
a dream
that so easily evaporates.

just take it.
its so small
it could help.
but it doesn't.

higher we go.
worry about it later.
il trip eventually.
over a rock or my own faults.

Painfull Breathing

Everytime I bring a thought from my past, something hinders it. I cant seem to break out of this shell that I built around me. Im so tired of trying. Whenever my dad says hes proud of me, its so hard to take because I dont think he has anything to be proud of. I feel like such a failure of my own expectations and those around me. I cant shake the hurt that I feel everytime I think of how I've fucked up my own life. My self centered ways and inability to love myself. I dont know when my laugh is fake or if I am really trying to get better. It hurtts so much, trying to work through the day and see how I react to certain things, why I want to cry everyday about irrelevent things. Even with this medication I feel like I am falling further into this hole that I dug myself. I want to make it stop but I dont know how. Im stuck.

Lyrical Connections

The mound is laughing at me. Taunting me and reminding me of all the mistakes I've made. Every regret is piled within my clothing and accessories, shoes and nick nacks. Maybe there is a pattern within my madness. The more upset I become, the more my room resembles a battleground from WW3. Cleaning the pile comes first. Then sorting out the regrets, weeding out the problems and at last doing some laundry. Unfortunately, life really makes that as difficult as it can, theory only being the first step. The regrets in my life only really surmount to one and that is loss of who I was because once that happens, it takes years to recapture that spirit. I feel empty without that spirit. Focusing on others makes me realize that I am a huge failure. Some battle cancer with a smile on their face, some battle others for their rights with vigor and passion. My passion only comes when I am defending friends. I want to be there for others whenever possible, but not as this half of someone. I am really afraid of seeing who I really am. Am I really this cynical on the true side of myself? So mad at the world for stealing my innocence in more ways than one. So hurt by the slightest pull. Although I am no debutante in high society, Bob Dylan does aptly describe how I am feeling on more than one occasion in my life. How cliche right?

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

I have pushed myself off of the pedestal that I had put myself on and now have no idea how to move on. Everyone thought I was alright. No one noticed that every joke pushed me harder to be perfect. Every time my mother made a mistake, it became my own. No one needs to notice me. I want to escape to a place where no one knows me. Thats a difficult journey that holds such a great appeal to me. Fuck it. Im sorry for my whining. IM TIRED! There. I'm done.

Very small yet so daunting.

It always starts with my heart beat. The tempo rises into an unbearable rhythem and it progresses onto tears and a gasp for air. The more I try to stop the beating and silent screams, the more frustrated I become. The pills on the counter silently laugh at me, tempting me to visit and discover a land with no feeling at all. The vicious cycle has been a continuous thing, pushing my mind into further recesses and giving me no hope at all. I'm on a second type of medication and I have no idea if it will help either. I know I am not alone and the more I try to focus on others and their lives, the more I feel as if I have no purpose here. Why am I here? What were the gods thinking as they assembled my parts and thoughts? I feel like a piano, constantly having my keys pushed in order to gain a different response. The composer must be deriving his work from a sledgehammer because every missed note hurts me even more. The more high strung I become, the more I drive those around me away. I want to be the one who is away. Being in England was a god send and also a difficult thing. Being away gave me hope, being without my medication gave me headaches and anxiety about my future. I didn't want to come back. Seriously contemplating fleeing the hotel as my sweet friends slept, I wanted to run and find work and be happy and new. However that is the simple definition of running away. It is what I want to do, if not England than Canada. Anywhere I can start fresh. Im not in a good place mentally and physically. Very tired, either from jet lag or the multiple missed doses. Its sad that I have no clue witch one.