5/12/2025
I’m addicted to being depressed
I know nothing different because it has been my life
So what’s the opposite?
Silence? Peace?
That’s what I imagine
I have to seek and access things that do pull me out of it
do it more
the advance level is being able to find the resource in myself
I interpret this concept as a fairy tale
It’s not fair caring for how other people feel
I don’t want to be responsible for other people’s emotions
If they feel good-I’m scared of tainting it
If they feel bad- I’m scared to cause more suffering
I’m depressed and angry
And probably a lot of other things too
You say I don’t know how to talk about the anger or emptiness
Because I don’t talk about it
And I don’t, at least not with other people
But it’s always there.
So I don’t want to give it any more space than it already has
I move through things quickly-it’s survival
But I also do talk about these things
To myself, in my head
Believe me it’s not a stranger
But this gets exhausting with all the other noise in my head
It doesn’t serve me to recount the things that have happened
I guess that’s why therapy stopped working…
I’m tired of hearing it
I’m tired of the pity from the person sitting across from me
I’m tired of the complaints and grievances that come out of my mouth
So what your mother didn’t want you?
So what you were raped as a child?
So now you’re sad? Okay…
Yeah, it sucks, and?
The past is stable, we can’t change the facts
Talking about it doesn’t help
I’m just chasing my tail as I recite details of a life that has no significance
I don’t know what I’m angry about
That might be a lie- it is…
Anger has been the drive of my life
At least a main source
Fear is debilitating, but anger-it’s actionable
I’m angry about the circumstances of my life
My upbringing
The abuse and neglect
The disregard… The invisibility of my existence
but then so what?
i’m justifiably angry at my mother for the actions she took
and justifiably angry for my father's passivity.
So what?
I’m angry with everyone else who came to take pieces of me
And reminded me in the most cruel ways that I’m still nothing…
So-what?
I survived through my work ethic
I’m a fast learner because everything has rules, patterns, and structures.
You just have to follow each step and it results in the final product
This is the part most people have access to
I’m scared of showing more of myself so I don’t hurt anyone with those parts
I give a fraction to people
So sure, 20% to you
I do it because I worry the rest will hurt them
People don’t like darkness
Initially they may find it poetic
The foreign nature of it might be appealing
Maybe they think it will make them feel more alive
But this fades…
people don’t seek darkness
why would you pick the dark girl with no face?
Over someone bright? Not a chance
And I don’t blame them
I’m hyperindependent
And when things build and get worse, I pull away from people
I protect those I care for
It’s an egregious assumption to think others don’t have their own battles
I slowly pull away so it’s not so obvious
But eventually they seek me out
I get mad because I want to be alone
“I’m protecting you damniit”
And if they get sad about it then I feel awful
But more mad because I knew it would happen
I just want them to think I’m fine and now worry about me
Not need me or be attached to me
To let me go…
So yes…
I have no say in who loves me
This is true
And sometimes that feels like a burden…
I tell you I pull away to protect those I care for
To make sure the hurtful parts of me don't bleed all over them
and yes, this is true
but this isn’t the only way pulling away protects people from the things my darkness desires
But I can’t say it
There’s no one to tell
No one to share the real thoughts and feelings I project onto my canvases
I think the words but don’t dare say them
I can’t see it- this perspective you speak of
I don’t like myself
How do I change that perspective?
I don’t care for life
How do I change that perspective?
I feel stupid
like I’m a burden
Again, I don’t want to hurt people I care about
Who do I think I am to think I have the power to take someone’s light away? You asked.
I suppose it’s because I know it’s possible
I understand because somebody took mine…
I think there is a point in which you can break people
Hurt them, damage them
Do things you can’t undo
The poison that wrecked me was left behind in me
So then, am I addicted to this because I don’t want to get better?
I don’t want the other perspective bad enough?
But this couldn’t be it
It doesnt FEEL like the answer
I've spent SO much time, money, energy in trying to like myself
To want to live
I've run out of ideas
Yes, I’m tired and always been
This feels different though
I won’t do it like this anymore- I can’t
The weight of the last 2 yrs- really 6 yrs is hitting me
My world flipped on it’s axis
I started all over again
It was just about moving
No time to process or feel it
You don’t think about the awful thing
but as things have slowed down in the last 8 months
I’ve realized how empty I am
How depressed of a person I am
How much of it I still carry
I’ve known these things but I’m not so sure I’ve observed myself this way
I immediately think-
was it really that bad for me to be this fucking depressed
this addicted
was it really that bad?
then the other thought is- does it just mean I’m weak
You say I can’t keep the list going.
The list of the things I hate about myself
But I know I can, because I have
The more I dig, the more I explore myself- the more I hate
I can start with my body
I can talk about my personality
or the habits I have
I can give you an on-going list of the things I watch myself do or say
that I wish no longer existed in one person…
and if I try to make a list of things I like-I quickly find the negative side
It becomes a list of things I don’t like without me noticing
I don’t feel others understand
And I don’t feel like you do either
Sometimes you misunderstand me
And its on me to clarify things
But I don’t because I think - what does it matter?
Sometimes you make assumptions that are also incorrect
Sometimes I don’t correct those
Sometimes I let you or others think I’m dumb or confused
I often say “I don’t know” when I really just don’t want to tell you what i’m thinking
what does it really matter what I think, feel, or understand?
I’ve been doing it on my own for a long time
People are unreliable
Sometimes people don’t care
Sometimes they do help
But it’s easier to skip the step of finding out
If i just have to manage on my own in the end anyways
Healing happens with others…
but i’ve learned to be by myself
I do fine by myself
Lately, I wonder if this is something else broken about me
Is seeking and prefering solitude a problem?
Is it really about me not wanting it bad enough?
What would it mean to change it?
If I change my perspective about myself and life…
then it would mean
That I was worth forgiving all along
That I was worth loving all along
It wasn’t that fucking hard
So I refuse to see Her
To see Her face
To watch the weight of so much darkness slowly dim her light
The light of a child…. that maybe was never all that hard to love
I’d have to face all she lost or never had the chance to even have
Simply based on the randomness of life
It would mean that all i carry isnt because I deserved it
But because there were people in my life that had their own stuff that they couldn’t manage
I just happen to be in the line of fire when those dark fantasies poured out of them
So it has to be me that’s fucked up
thats damaged
and deserves it
because if I didn’t deserve it
then what unbelievably fucked up luck i’ve had
how unbelievably unfair
and my brain immediately rejects that
it wasn’t that bad
who are you to say poor me
to say what unfortunate circumstances i’ve had in my life
no-it makes more sense to deserve it
to be ugly and fucked up
I wasn’t worthy of anything different
and all those things damaged me more
so it makes sense more happened
each time he came back-it was because I was already dirty…
And I didn’t want it to be anyone else
I didn’t want him to take their light too…
the other hard thing about what it would mean is-
I don’t know what to do with this story then
So if i change this perspective
and let myself believe that the madness is over…
that the thing I was striving so fucking hard to create for myself…
actually, happened.
If I let myself believe that
I don’t know what my nervous system would do
What my mind would make of it?
If there is no more fighting, no more battles?
is it really over?
I was fighting for it but it wasn’t about achieving it
I didn’t think that was possible-
It was about surviving
so then would it mean I truly beat it?
And if I did, how do I explain all that was?
How do I tell the story of me with an ending that makes no sense?
I’m so fucking tired
And they’re all telling me to slow down
a part of me doesn’t know how to
how to begin
and another part-protests being told what to do
Or maybe people telling me there is hope
I fear what if for me there isn’t
and I try with dreams of this ending
but it becomes another discouraging wound
I’m the most mediocre person
there is nothing special about me- you’re right
There is nothing special about my experiences
there isn’t
I’m a very ordinary person
And I don’t know if the things that happened to me were that bad or if I’m just a bitch about it
I don’t know but I’m angry and bitter all the time
I couldn’t tell you what exactly about
Because it’s everything
it’s because I can’t make sense of what was
And changing my perspective means being angerier-rageful
I’m angry that i’m here, angry that I’m alive
Angry that I can’t get the blessing to leave
That I had no say in the choice to be here
and even before I took my first breath I was resented for my existence
I’m scared of the power that kinda rage has
But that’s the thing, if I really am this wounded
damaged
wouldn’t it take someone exceptional to overcome that
to beat the statistic
I’m just ordinary
The ending doesn’t line up
I don’t share many things
Not in detail
How cruel to make someone sit through it
The other reflection is about being liked
I do want to be liked
I would like to be liked as I am
And not in a-selfish kind of way of resisting accountability
I just want to be liked
without having all the things wrong with me or off be a project to fix
I already know
hence why I didn’t want to show you
but if I’m brave enough to show you
and I have to hear about how it hurts you…
How it makes you sad
it reinforces the idea that I think those things are awful too
And I watch how they bleed into others
I want to be liked
without having to protect you
I am so tired of being told, “i’m sad because you’re sad”
“it makes me sad that you’re sad”
“i don’t know what to tell you”
I feel their anxiety and pressure to “fix” this thing that I am
And it becomes very clear it’s not a part of me they like
so i go back to the 20%
I think this world is very dark
I think there is a lot of evil in it
and we all have some degree of evil
so the last thing I want to do
when I see light in others is dim it
I don’t want to dim it
I don’t want to take away what little light there might be in someone or this world
4/10/2025
These appointments leave me irritated
In one way or another it’s the same conversation
“Slow down”
They all unanimously advise
This isn’t the first time I’ve sat across people insistent on this point
I’d wave away the remark
Push my body harder
Role my eyes and mutter, “Watch me”
I manage every diagnosis
Take the pills, do the procedures
But don’t stop
My therapists have highlighted how I neglect Her
Now, I’m being told I neglect my body too
I argue my points
Attempt to dismiss their comments
But this time they don’t let it go
Suddenly, I don’t feel I have a choice
But then I think, I do- I could do nothing
She looking at my chart
Then checks my pulse
My pulse of life, energy- low
I’d say it’s reflective of how I feel
Of how invested I am in this world
Again, the words are said to me, “The answer is to slow down”
I crack a dismissive joke
Which only seems to make her more frank
“The answer you’re seeking is to slow down”
“Look,..I get the sense you’re brilliant and have figured out a way to run from a painful past”
I attempt to deflect…
“You have created a whole other life for yourself. Decades of this is catching up. You’re not young anymore… the answer is to- slow. down.”
My voice surprises me when I share, “I can’t- Don’t know how”
“…You can stop running now”
She leaves me with an answer I don’t want to hear
And one I don’t know where to begin with
4/10/2025
I think I’ve been in this hole for the better part of a year
Something’s off
It’s hard to catch when I’m in it
The remnants of the past call to me
Luring me into this hole
They sing me the lullaby of death…
The world around me feels fake
It’s unsafe and distant
I slowly push through the atmosphere like molasses
I often feel like a corpse
Some zooned out zombie
Half dead…. half alive
I prefer this at times
It’s familiar
I keep Her locked in a room
Down a very long hallway
I can feel Her and I can hear Her
But I don’t dare look back…
It’s hard…
I try but sometimes it’s better to feel nothing
I feel the pressure build inside me
It’s crawling under my skin
…so-I make it stop…
When it hits— there’s this relief
The other night it triggered a purge
As I slipped into death the tears fell
Tears of gratitude- for the relief
Tears of disappointment- for my cowardness
If I surrender to death
Then I don’t have to witness my cowardness
And I certainly don’t have to acknowledge how sad of a person I truly am…
3/22/2025
Did I go too far?
I believed knowledge to be the key
The master key to unlocking my sanity
How couldn’t it not be?
I’ve been in the pursuit of truth-
Unlocking as many doors as possible and as fast as I can
They come in and out of my office all day
Like a flip book, their silhouettes sitting and standing so quickly
They shift in their seats
Crossing and uncrossing their legs
This key seems to work for other people
Is that how it’s suppose to work?
Does knowing too much impact its efficacy for me?
Did I sacrifice my opportunity?
Why doesn’t it work for me?
2/22/2025
I often wonder about how other women experience this
It’s not something I question out loud
Logically, I know it had nothing to do with me
But a louder part recognizes she birthed her greatest pain
I've spent my entire existence knowing I wasn’t wanted
I haven’t found a way to undo it…
I think it’s something i’m suppose to live with
You pick up the pieces,… carry them, and keep moving
Regardless of the cards you were dealt…
… the mother you got…
Life knows how to trigger the unwelcomed thought
“I want my mom”
It’s followed by this strong urge to pick up the phone and call a women who loves me more than anyone on this planet
A women, who may not be perfect but loves me more than she loves her pain
She's always rooting for me
Always knows what to say
She’s my biggest cheerleader
(Even knowing all my mess)
She's always protecting me
Making sure i’m taken care of…
Despite reality Im pulled into this fantasy
It only lasts a fraction of a second
I almost instantly remember… there is no one to call
Over and over I relive the experience
Like i’m hearing the news for the first time…
“You have no mother to call”
It doesn’t hurt like it use to
Having someone to call is like winning the lottery
I don’t think people truly appreciate what an amazing gift it is to have a mother to call…
A mother who picks up
Who shows up…
But, I think I still get stuck
Guilt always lingers in the corners of my grief
At least my mother, isn’t dead….
Right?…
1/28/2025
The image replays over and over
Sometimes I can’t find the words to describe an experience…
Images seem to work best when words fail
I imagine the ink on the quill hitting the paper
The paper, parched, quickly drinks
The ink bleeds through the subtle dimples of the sheet
This is the feeling that spreads
My body releases the air and tension it’s been holding
quill on paper
1/9/2025
(Dream)
People keep looking at me
I'm standing alone now at this party
Seems there are only men really around
I make myself busy and start cleaning
I find myself in the laundry room
I hear noise coming down the hallway and i peek
There is a guy jumping as he pulls his pants up
As he slips his shoes on
He sees me
And puts his arm around me as he walks me away from the room
Another comes up and asks for a hug as he comes in for an embrace
I'm uncomfortable
I know this feeling but I don't know why
I watch as he walks out of the room
He's clothed
But when we make eye contact a stone develops in my stomach
Like he's a doctor coming out of the room of a loved one
Preparing to deliver some bad news
The more this look tells me, "don't come"
The more i want to
My legs pull me towards him
Everyone's watching
I'm nauseated by him now
Angry
Disappointed
My hands begin to shake
My throat closes
I look in the room
The image is gone from memory already
But the feeling isnt...
I dropped to the floor
He tries to catch me
But I don't want him touching me
The screaming begins
I'm not screaming at anyone at first
But the more he tries to hold me the angrier I get
"What did you do!?"
"Did you do that!?"
"Why would you do that to her!?"
Death breaks through the floor
I beg to be consumed
But it only comes to wrap itself around me
To tighten it's grip
And leave another mark
"I WANT TO DIE"
I wake up...
1/5/2025
I fantasize about it a lot
It feels so good and devastatingly bad
My ribs ache as he presses them against the sink
I avoid eye contact with myself
He's washing it away...
He knows what I know...
It's not coming off...
It's like rinsing oil off your hands with water
But he tries...
I gag, sometimes vomit over the running water but he never stops
He takes the toothbrush
The mouth wash...
I hate the taste of listerine
I hate scrubbing my tongue...
It's the same protocol each time
He leaves me on the lid...
My soul drips into the toilet...
I can smell it... I can taste it...
Sometimes i’d watch as the red moves and flows into hues of pink
Lose myself in nothing…
Sometimes I'd pray…
I’d make promises- i’d be a good girl
Worthy of his saving, I promise
… i’m not dirty
He killed me
Long before I could even live...
.....
I hated it
I hated him
I hate... me
....
I know him
It's what haunts him today
It oozes out when he drinks
It drives his threats...
I know him...
Like no one else does
With me, he cannot lie
The cost of ending me, is revealing yourself
You cannot take the soul of a child without paying the price
It’s not guilt he is consumed by…
It's the risk of losing power… credibility
You’re just as dirty… as me
I know what he likes...
I know what he hates...
He likes attention
And control
He feeds off your insecurities
He's great at saying a lot without ever really saying anything
He feeds off your pain...
He loves blood...
Especially, when you beg
His tools were always sharp
Always making sure to mark… what he claimed as his…
I carry the weight of my corpse
While he runs wild and free
I fantasize about him begging...
The blood...
The control...
Leaving a mark…
The prolonged execution...
The endorphins rushing through my body
What a high...
What freedom
If his heart stops beating
Mine can stop bleeding...
I watch as the thoughts consume me
Chew me up and spit me out…
Then the same feeling I get from scrubbing my tongue with the toothbrush comes up
Maybe, he left too much of himself in me...
This is when the fantasy shifts
I do not fear them
I welcome them…
If there was a God- this would be the prayer to fulfill
Please let me end here
1/1/2025
There is always a point in the night when I’ve run out of…things
Nothing left to do
No one left to call
Just me and the glass of whiskey…
I like being alone…
I also hate it
It’s when the noise takes over
It’s also why I keep my distance from others
I wonder if I’d even like solitude if it weren’t for them
Or maybe it’d be the opposite
It’s all the same cycle
Rinse and repeat
But, some nights I don’t want to be alone with them…
I don’t have the words to explain what happens to me
I couldn’t tell you what I’m so sad about
Or even tell you with certainty that sadness is what I’m feeling
I haven’t figured out where the speaker is
The feedback loop increases the harder I look for it
I’m fine in this familiar space
I manage it alone
But sometimes…
I’d give anything to be held
But not just by anyone
You see, touch is important to me
Touch hurts more than it heals
Safety in it is rare…
I’d have to risk it all and trust someone to keep me safe
To hold me in their arms as I fall apart over something that no longer is
But cannot be explained to them
I hear my own contradictions…
I know I’m scary this way
It’s upsetting to others
And I wish I could explain it…
But I also wish someone wouldn’t look for it
For the answers or understanding in chaos they’ve never lived
I suppose this is an unreasonable ask…
I’m scared of the darkness in me consuming someone else
So, I stay away… to keep them safe-to keep myself safe
Yet, on nights like this, I dispute this claim…
12/28/2024
The noise is tightening the laces around my lungs
My throat is swelling up…
My hands begin to shake
I pick up a brush
12/14/2024
I don’t know how to stop…
I don’t know how to be good enough
I don’t know how to like myself
She struggled to raise me because she didn’t like me
The mean voice in my head was the women dropping me off at the sitter’s
Was, yet the voice in my head continues
It’s not just the thought, “I’ll never be good enough”
But the feeling
That’s worse…
I thought the peak of my grief would be accepting what I never got
There’s no one and nothing to fight anymore
There is silence left in the absence of the war
Making me so aware of just how empty and broken I am…
11/2/2024
(Dream)
I'm in the new apartment I sense.
I'm in session with my therapist
She asks me a question I don't understand about being "bad versus good"
A women, followed by her partner break through my window
The women disappears and its just him
He landed on my bed
I'm screaming and attacking him
I notice a sensation in my sleeve
When I look at the window there are insects coating the window sill
There are flies, bees, worms, spiders
Even frogs
I look at the floor
It's like I'm wearing a flashlight on my head
Everything is dark until I give it my attention
The floor is covered with insects
I try to crawl away
I feel exhausted and give in to the floor
I hear small coughs behind me
I turn to find mufasa, my dog
I reach to touch him and feel terrified I won't feel him
Not only do I feel him but he comes in for more
I begin sobbing
I repeat over and over "I love you"
I wake up shaking....
10/5/2023
“What if I never get my love reciprocated
Born to be the one
Forced to be, the one that never actually dated
And I think I’m a broken record
That every time that I flip
There is no other side
Just some smart ass funny quip
That doesn’t show how upset I am about it
I’m not funny
It’s just a trauma response
What if all I’m gifted
Is somebody’s half hearted nonchalance
I don’t feel rejected
I feel ugly
I feel like I’m not enough
I feel like no matter what happens
I have to suck it up
And be tough
That the grades are never perfect
The photos are never good
That I keep trying to love myself
Just to convince myself that
Somebody else actually could
And the better I get
Sometimes the worse that I feel
Because what if I never get to your
Expectation of what it means to full heal
And I just keep getting older
And each year
It feels like a heavier weight
I keep distracting myself with other hobbies
Like love is an appetite to satiate
I’m not sad about it
I’m just disappointed that I’m still not there
Do you think people feel it
When you include them in a prayer?
What if I never know it?
Not truly
The nausea ensues
If love is an alarm
Why do they just keep hitting snooze?
Because isn’t the dream worth living?
What if I never get…
To know the reality,
Of who I could of met?”
CC