pooh

If ever there is tomorrow when we’re not together.. there is something you must always remember. You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. But the most important thing is, even if we’re apart.. I’ll always be with you.
-- Christopher Robin to Winnie the Pooh

friends

Sometimes I feel like

there's nothing left to say

to ease your pain

I find myself repeating

lines long ago ignored

that never worked anyway

knowing I would do anything

to ease the weight on your shoulders

but not knowing what is needed

I feel helpless

useless

but still I will stand here

still I will try

for if nothing else

knowing I'm always going to be here

seems to make you a little stronger

and somehow

a little happier

and that's worth it all

do you ever feel like the wind

gets knocked out of you

by something in your head

or perhaps, more accurately, your heart

by something you've never known consciously

but have always felt intimately

on the basic, core level of your being?

I can't explain this feeling

that often swells inside me

this overwhelming joy tempered

by an infinite sorrow

to be happy honestly makes me sad

as if happiness is a butterfly

in a violent storm

            no, not violent

a slow freezing night

that always, eventually, wins

the moments that the world is still and happy

blissful

are too far apart

too harsh against the bad

it's the happiness that feels harsh

like bright light to eyes

used to the dreary night.

… the wind being knocked out of me

and it's the breeze

the warm sweet-scented breeze

that my butterfly flies on

away from this cold inside

I used to wake up so early

in the morning

that it was still basically night

afraid of being inside any longer

afraid that I'd suffocate

in the fear and pain inside my room

and I'd climb out on the roof

to be safe in the breeze

to breathe again

only to find that feeling

that joy

that makes me sad

that knocks the wind out of me

because I know it

the peace

cannot last

will not last

minefield

growing up I lived in a minefield

where the slightest misstep

led to explosion after explosion

my mother had a hairpin trigger

and I often found myself

at ground zero

the aftershocks still echo

through my battered soul

and now that I have left

I find myself trying so hard

not to explode the way she did

that I find myself stuck

in a frozen implosion

just waiting for the super nova

and the eternity lost

in my self-created black hole.

friends

I am beginning to let my friends in, trying anyway. They are amazing people who I love dearly. They tolerate my bullshit and see the essence of me even when I try to keep them at arms length.

It's funny, someone asked me what I needed and all I could think of was being held. I'm not sure I need it for survival, but it would make life feel a million times better sometimes. I think in reality, what I really need is to feel like I'm worth fighting for, that my life, my happiness is worth struggling through all the other stuff. And strangely nothing communicates my being allowed to need, to be vulnerable, my worth like being held. It's one of the few times I feel worthy of being human and ok with all the imperfection that means.

I know I have to give myself the love I need if I am ever to believe others really love me too. I know I have to be the one to tell myself everything will be ok if I am to ever really believe it. I just don't really know where the line between what I'm supposed to do myself and receive help from others. The long I go along, the more I'm convinced that if it came down to it, I could probably handle most everything by myself if I had to, but I know that we as humans need one another. I could probably handle it alone, but should I?

As if you could kill time without injuring eternity - thoreau

help

Why is it that when I really need help I cannot ask for it? I let people in only so far. I'm completely willing to be there for someone when they need me, but cannot or will not let others be there for me when I'm really hurting. I let people help me with problems that I deep down believe I can handle on my own, but the ones that truly terrify me are not mentioned. Life would be so much easier if I could just trust that some people will be there for me no matter what. That not everyone will use a sign of weakness against me when it suits them. I'm in a lot of pain. Both physically and emotionally. The physical is starting to drive me crazy and the meds are not helping. I believe this pain is only adding to my difficulty coping emotionally with life at the moment. I find myself calculating when cars would not be able to stop if I were to jump in front of them. Find myself going over in my head the hangman's noose. I find myself obsessing the way I used to when I was younger. I don't want to admit it, for all that admitting it would lead to. I don't think I'd act on it, but none the less it's there.

I'm afraid what the doctor's appointment tomorrow will bring. I know something's really wrong, but feel unable to ask for the help and support that could make all this much more bearable. I feel shame in needing. and pain in my silence.

success

"To laugh often and much;

To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children;

To earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends;

To appreciate beauty, to find the best in others;

To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition;

To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived.

This is to have succeeded."

life is funny

so I find that often I dig myself into the mud and get stuck in a cycle of despair and procrastination. And I'll be stuck for awhile, but all it takes is one conversation or a silly act or a game or being forced to complete a task I thought impossible and I find myself unstuck again.

I had gotten myself to the point of praying for death again and all it took was a reminder to be grateful for the things I already have to snap me out of it.

I am so grateful for the friends I have. It feels as if they're there beside me wherever I go. I can feel their strength and love supporting me through tough times if I let them. They truly give me courage. Their willingness to let me be me is so healing.

willow

The weeping willow

Hangs heavily

Burdened

With the pain of the world

I wonder if it ever

Grows weary

If that’s why it bends so

If that’s why it sits

Lonely on the water’s edge

If that’s why it weeps

on roof top

I climb out on the roof

In this the deep of night

And watch as the town sleeps

Darkened houses

in the glow of street lights

quiet, peaceful

and I can’t help crying

as I pull my knees to chest

in a long needed hug

as if it could protect me

save me

from all this pain inside

broken

I sit here

Broken

Crying for no reason

Nothing feels right

The world seems to be against me

Nowhere to go

No use trying anymore

For all there seems to be

Is dead ends

And shattered dreams

Love is but an illusion

That has me chasing pain

Hope makes me soar

So I can fall again

It’s all a sick joke

In someone else’s game

People teach hatred

And self-loathing

For fear of your power

And their own

Society crams spirits

Into nutshells

Where one size fits

No one

Preaching that we should destroy

Whatever doesn’t fit

Whatever we don’t understand

Or even scarier

That which we wish we were

Suffocated in a world of grey

Where all anyone talks about is

Black and white

Wishing I could add a touch of blue

A hint of gold

And a wave of green

I sit here trapped

Wanting to die

Because I feel beyond helpless

Low self-esteem takes hold

With chains of worthlessness

And I break my own wings

Believing I don’t deserve to fly

And I break my own wings

Believing I don’t deserve to fly

on outside looking in

On the Outside (Looking In)

just about everywhere I go
I feel like an outsider
like I don’t really belong
I pour my heart and soul
into places, organizations,
groups of people
I respect and love
so much that it literally
hurts
but still I always feel
like I’m on the outside
looking in
a part, but apart
you see often I feel so worthless
so repulsive and wrong
that I hide and don’t open up
been told for so long
that my place was below
oh so low
I shackled myself to the ground
feeling like that’s where I’m supposed to be
I feel as if I am only tolerated
never wanted
and because of it
I remain separated,
on the edge,
overlooked
hoping I’m not completely pushed away
oh if I could only show
the vibrant being
beneath the dull shell
if only I could share
the warmth and wit
the intelligence and strength
that I contain
if only I could step into the inner circle
and be the real me
but I’ve lost the key
and because of it
will remain shackled
on the outside
looking in

so life is really weird. I can on one hand feel completely alone in the world and yet on the other be talking to someone on an emotionally intimate level about that feeling and if I had a third hand also pull out a poem in which I've been the other person and on the fourth remember that I fluxuate between this feeling of complete disconnect and total connection.

I know I'm not alone. I know there are people who care about me and like me for the person they see. But I still feel too weird or different.

and I still have the old belief that I will hurt everyone I care about in the end. That I am the cause of more problems than solutions, and thus I keep my distance and make sure they know they cannot depend on me. I feel damned. And that my love for people will only hurt them.

(sometimes I sound like a moody vampire with a soul...)

all I have to give

Some days I forget

that loving someone

Isn’t enough

If they don’t love themselves

Some days I forget

That no matter how much

I love someone

I can’t make them feel

Loved

Some days I forget

That outside love

Won’t erase internal

Pain

I forget

That my being here

Doesn’t mean

You won’t be

Lonely

I forget

That I can’t save

You

Only you can do that

Some days I sit here

And realize

Just

How

 Damn

Helpless

I really am

And sometimes I forget

That I’m human

And that love

Isn’t

Always

Enough

But it’s all I really have to give….

melancholy and the infinite saddness

(love the album FYI)

I find myself profoundly sad. I've spent my life depressed, but this is different somehow.

I worry I will never be loved entirely for who I completely am unconditionally. Worried that who I am will never be good enough. I've come to accept that there are people who love me to some degree, but I do not trust how much. I feel alone and unworthy of the love I give out.

I feel alone.

jester

Jester

His whole life was a running joke

A constant stream of laughter

That followed him wherever he went

He was the cause of it

But often it was at his expense

But everyday he wore a smile

As it was his self-proclaimed job to jest

Even in the worst of times

A constant joker

No matter how he felt

To bring laughter

Was his noble cause

Until one day it all stopped

As he became real

Became honest

And the kingdom came to a halt

The day the jester dared to cry

mortality

life is so special partly because of its fleetingness. Would life matter so much if it went on forever? Would the people in it matter so much if we knew we had eternity to ignore, fight and fix things?

I've become overly aware of these things, overly aware of my own mortality lately. For as long as I can remember I've been suicidal, we're talking since I was a small child. My biggest fear used to be that there was life after death, I'd pray that my death was an end, that everything was finally over. Don't get me wrong, I still don't hope or believe in an afterlife, but now I take the stance of I'll handle the next step if there is one when it comes. But strangely now I haven't been suicidal in a couple of months. Life isn't really better than it was, but suicide has been removed as an option. A couple of months ago, for the first time a friend made me feel, not logically, but on a deep emotional level the impact my suicide would have on those I care about. I have known logically for awhile that some people like me, and that those people would be sad/upset if I died especially by my own hands, but I never really knew it all the way to my core. I still struggle with the idea that I am worthy of being loved, that people out there could not only want me around, but genuinely care about me. I still really struggle with this. But as of late, I've begun to believe that people can actually care for me for who I really am. and one of these people expressed so completely and spontaniously the impact my death would have not to my logical brain but to my emotional soul. Suicide is no longer an option.

But this leaves me in a strange quandry. Deciding it is no longer up to me as to when I call it quits, means I know have to start dealing with life itself instead of merely running from it or not caring cuz it doesn't matter because soon I'll die and won't have to live with the realities of the descions I've made. I've been living most of my life as if it weren't real, as if it were a game that I could end at any moment. This means I haven't taken the care to lead my life in a direction that makes it worth living. Sigh.

So now, not being suicidal and having to deal with life as it comes, I am faced with the reality of my own mortality. Of not being dead, but the actual act of dying, particularly when I don't want to. I now feel the need to face the health issues I've been running from, hoping to make the rest of my life more liveable. (I can't avoid the irony of spending my whole life wanting to die, and the moment I don't want to die, the possibility of actually dying) I am afraid.

I'm not so sure what I'm afraid of percisely. It's not the being dead part. Or even really the pain I'm sure will come before that. It's not the leaving people, although that does suck. I think it's having wasted my life. I have always felt like a damned, sub-human being destined for misery and pain, whose only chance of any redemption was to leave the world a little better off than it was before I existed, not because I thought it'd save my soul, because I think I'm damned no matter what I do, but because then at least I could bring some joy or peace to the world, however minutely because it's the right thing to do no matter wheither it helps you. I feel as if we have the choice to be mean or kind, there's enough pain in the world why choose to add more if you don't have to. There will always be pain, we no matter what we do, we will eventually hurt those we care about, but the least we can do is to not do it on purpose. But I worry that the pain I've caused out numbers the good I've done. I worry that I have not made a positive difference. And that I don't have the time to fix that.

choices are bizzare things. It's the concept of free will and choice that make me question life having a reason, and fate, and a grand plan. every tiny choice can have drastic outcomes and everyone having an undefind number makes the world one really crazy game of this or that on a grand level.

"we make our choices, but our choices make us."

we are the sum of our genetic potential colliding with our life's experience gained through every choice we make and those around us make. it gets crazy complicated mightly quickly.

"in every situation there exists a choice" it's not always the choice we want, often it isn't the one we want, but there is always a choice. Sometimes it's simply how am I going to react in a given situation even if I cannot otherwise change the situation. Which of course always make me think of the myth of sisyphus....

I have too many thoughts, and now need to go grocery shopping. reserving the complete right to revisit and expand.

afraid to meet your gaze

I’m afraid to meet your gaze

To give you a chance

To glimpse the craziness in my head

The fluttering of my heart

The churnings in my soul

There’s so much

Too much

Inside

That I’m trying to keep hidden

From the eyes of the world

Afraid for their reaction

Their judgment

Their ousting me

Deeming me of unworthy

I feel too different

To be allowed

Wrong

So I pretend

To be anything but me

And don’t quite meet your eyes

Because I’d be too vulnerable

Too seen

So trembling I turn away

Cuz you already know too much

And I fear

You already see me

For me

humanity

humanity

Some days I curse

At the top of my lungs

My humanity

Its imperfection

Its vulnerability

Its futility

Some days I curse

My inability

To fix

anything

My inability

To control

Everything

Some days I curse

My own two hands

How small

Feeble

Weak

They are

But in the end I realize

That in my weakness

Comes my greatest opportunity

For courage

Strength

Love

To love not despite flaws

But including them

To see another’s humanity

Is my greatest honor

And to love my own

Is my life’s purpose

exist

So I don't know why I'm forever compelled to write down the random thoughts that occur to me or why I feel the need to share the way I feel when in reality neither really matters to the grand scheme of things. But I guess this is part of what it means to be alive; to somehow put something out in the world and get something back. to know that each of us is not as alone as we may feel. to feel as if what we do somehow matters no matter how mintuely. to prove we exist.

I'm still struggling with my right to exist, my right to live, to be me, to be. here is my attempt to put something out there...