Poetry
This is the general category of fuckery that goes on and on and doesn’t seem interested in stopping.
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I have to be here to prove to others that they can be here
Prove that your mind can be the darkest place and you can still persevere
I keep seeing other people with my mental illnesses fall
Retraumatised over the loss
I always wonder why I was left here
What right I have to be here over them
Why there wasn’t a miracle for them
Why I was able to take an entire bottle of naproxen and half a bottle of ibuprofen and live
Why my overdose was just me passing out and a weird dream
Why did cosmic timing not favour them?
Why am I here?
Well it was all about telling my story until I died but then I didn’t
And I will shoulder their pain as they fall and keep proving that it’s terrifying and awful but we can do this
That I’m a split in half being who barely comprehends this world
Trapped in a body that hates me with a brain that tries to kill me
But I can fucking do this
This will not be a story that ends with a whimper in the darkness
Even if no one sees it
Even if probably there are AI out there reading it and stealing my style (who knows maybe that’s why they’re all deranged)
But, damn it
I want to persist
I want to be a thorn in the side of every institution that tries to walk all over humanity
Even if it never gets recognition
Existing and being a voice of descent is still being a knob in their pudding
Be a knob in their pudding
Be a body of descent
You never know I bet you someone over history has had a knob in their pudding
And didn’t like it
Existing is sometimes painful
And I’m not talking about the background of pain that just is my existence
My emotions are painful
They erupt from inside me
I feel them so completely and it hurts
Even joy
It becomes too much for me
Writing has been a good tool
Typing furiously for a bit
Spitting all the poison I wouldn’t actually say somewhere where I can say, yikes
But it felt good to get it out
I wonder how much I owe to that little intrusive thought
Write through every panic attack
I still remember it so clearly
Nothing else about the moment but the words
Just gotta hang in there however you can
We are each of us a child of the gods, burning bright with the passion of a star who once shone
It’s kind of like that book I never wrote
About how the world was divided by emotional beings and less emotional beings
Except in mine the emotional ones were the ones who had become corrupt and were oppressing the less emotional people
And the world had to be saved by a gay mixed “race” couple that lived in the sewers
But it’s similar
The way people with strong emotions are demonized
But, obviously, I recognise that it can go both ways
This world needs balance like Christians need Jesus
But we persist
We must persist
I don’t want to be a statistic
I will not be a statistic
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Happenstance fuck you for a moment
I’m trying to have a serious conversation here
Life is hard
We make it harder on eachother
One second you feel safe somewhere and the next you don’t anymore
When I feel emotions
Sometimes it feels like I’m exploding from the inside
But things like being safe
They slip away so easily
Just like that you’re just someone on the outside of it
Reduced to nothing and no one again
I’m rarely a first priority
But the ease with which I slip out of spaces has always broken my own heart
The difference between belong and don’t belong
It’s so easily traversed
I don’t want to be the person they want me to be
And I am nothing again
I wonder what it feels like to be right?
What it feels like to fit in?
Maybe they do understand
Maybe that laugh was understanding and not derision
Different from everyone else
Just kind of came into existence
I wonder why we’re here
Does anyone else listen for you?
Seek your touch?
Sometimes I feel like my existence is an insistance on others
I do not feel I fit in here even with my rage and my disappointment
How could a god’s child ever find themselves here?
Not good enough
Not hard enough
Where to fit?
I feel unknown
And like it will always be that way
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I don’t particularly want to dislike people
I’m feel no pleasure from not liking someone else’s actions
I always end up feeling like I don’t fit in
Every space has its own kind of cruelty
If I had the option to exist without causing harm to anything ever
I would do it
Everything seems so innocent until it comes into contact with something else
My something else is other humans
I hate judging people
It leaves a sick feeling in my stomach
There’s always gossip though
There’s always ridicule for no good reason
And me not feeling comfortable in a space because there’s always a target
It’s never consequential
I don’t know why my comfort is never important
I don’t know why they say these things about eachother in places the people being spoken about can’t defend themselves
I started “lame” gossiping
I just agree with whatever the person gossiping says and then don’t say it to anyone else and if anyone asks I just didn’t feel like starting a fight
Because people dislike you if you won’t gossip with them and then will turn the gossip on you
I’d prefer to talk about what we like about people
And then go back to those people and tell them about the lovely conversation we were having about them
Bravely tell them all the things we love about them that just came up in conversation
Positive reinforcement is not just for non-human animals
You’d think we’d be smart enough to see our own similarities amongst creatures we are related to
Bah
In this quiet place where I hide my contempt for this world
And my love for the planet
I am so good at judging humanity as one big blob
But individuals are frequently so beautiful
But our insides
This place is as close to what it’s like inside my head as anything
Frequently I write my initial feelings and then go on puzzling and change my mind
Frequently my anger is its own thing and I don’t feel that prickly in person
Is every human a different world inside themselves?
Like I am?
A shadow of myself in front of others for my own safety?
Not all I suppose
Some people feel safe on this planet
I wish we spoke words as beautiful as the Earth is
That we only quaked when it was needed
I wish that we spoke love and not poison into existence
I wish I still loved humanity
It’s not hard to love individuals
But I don’t know what hope we have when it’s been 2000+ years and we still speak so negatively all the time
Animals have evolved traits that keep them alive in an increasingly difficult environment in that time
We still pick hate over love over and over again
I don’t know
I just wish I found somewhere that I fit
Where there isn’t toxic positivity nor toxic negativity
Where we accept that sometimes stuff is shitty and we talk about the shitty stuff
But we also don’t tear people down
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I have this fantasy where I run away
Just away
That everything goes right and I’m free
I’m assuming all my disabilities just cease to exist for this to happen
I just walk away
But where always becomes a question
Where is better than here?
A tiny town where I’m the only queer person but at least there’s an actual forest nearby?
Any number of cities where I wouldn’t fit as much as here
Everything is so disgustingly predictable
And I’m sick of seeing things coming from a mile away and screaming at the locals to run and being called insane
But, thanks to the internet, the locals are everywhere
Thousands of times I’ve said what will happen to be called crazy
And this isn’t the psychic crap
Psychic was predicting the wars happening, back in 2018, with no context
I just see patterns
It’s all so
These events around me
Why does it have to be so typical?
Why can’t someone surprise me and actually do something?
And when can I stop feeling like the someone is supposed to be me when I have no power?
By the time I had wormed enough power to do enough to help I’d be one of them
Why doesn’t anyone else have this sick sense in them like things should be different?
I shouldn’t say anyone
Why don’t enough anyones feel this way?
Why is there a great wall of disinterest in anyone’s eye who could do anything?
Why is there never a successful champion of those that need?
And I don’t know how to be what you need me to be
I want to run away and be someone new who doesn’t feel these responsibilities I cannot fulfill
I feel like I’m standing before a great beast who expects me to overcome them to succeed
If you wanted it a better way why is violence written in the path that brought humanity to realisation?
Did you create us in your image and then want us to be different from you?
Suffering isn’t written in your insides
Struggle is
Danger
Violence
Your potential is our potential
Or do you wish us to be beyond you?
Should we be your successors?
Love
I’m not sure you made it
But you are made of it
Like it just had to exist because of you
I wish we could each be you
As knowing and understanding
I wish we had the compassion of a gentle breeze blowing by to touch your face so you’re not alone
Knowing that in each body is a soul that feels
Even if they’re not all the same
Understanding that each person is a reaction to their life experience
That those reactions are visceral and personal
Understood that capacity is individual
That a world with less harm would create more chances for joy
And that hatred is wrong
It’s hard
I struggle with it when words are slicing through me
I am nothing beside you
And yet you almost go less noticed than I do
Massive yet unseeable
See-able but insufficient
If I could run
I wish I could run to a place where I could meet you face to face
I wonder what face the faceless would have?
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Why does everyone get to tear pieces from me and then go about their days?
I’m not over it
I say it hurts and they tell me it’s my own problem
It’s your own problem that the things I said in order to hurt you got to you
Responsibility
What even is that?
I’m being asked to take responsibility for my actions of daring to be disabled while people come into my life on the daily to tear pieces off of me
Why are they all immune?
It’s like they all have this poison and they’re spitting it everywhere
I’m saying please stop, this hurts, and they reply with “that’s your own fault”
Weakness is my fault
My weakness is my own fault
Does your heart tear daily for the struggles of others?
If my inability to defend from personal insults and attacks is a mirror of how my heart bleeds for this world
If you don’t feel things as strongly as me so my feelings are invalid
That means I get to say all your feelings which don’t come even to a percentage of what I feel mean nothing also
You feel nothing compared to me
Truly an NPC
I’m not a main character
But I’m here in this world
Self aware
Awake
Bleeding my heart into the Universe praying something works because I am an insignificant pea in a world of mattresses
But this pea knows that the mattresses are fluff brains that have led our world into disrepair and despair
So, fine, if my big emotions don’t matter
Then what the hell is that tiny ass sad excuse for an emotion you’ve got?
I wish for every person who comes into contact with me negatively to have the exact same day I do
Every day
The same dreams
The same struggles
Get a chronic illness
Lose everything and then spend your lonely days living with your parent (because you can’t afford rent) being mocked by strangers on the internet
When you’re at your last wit
I hope you never find a job again because you’re too broken to be good enough for society but not valid enough a human being for benefits to cover living
Join me in my mental anguish
You deserve it just like I do
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Mixed feelings
Big feelings
Back in my old stomping grounds
This university is idyllic
Trees everywhere
Constant breeze off the water
Birds everywhere
You could forget that the world outside is a cruel place for a moment
I was forced to drop out due to poor grades due to struggling with the onset of the second chronic illness
I feel like a failure walking these grounds that I should have graduated from following my parents
My dream all my life to graduate this university like my parents did
Using it as a stepping stone to Japan
Gone
And I’m here to listen to my dad sing about Jesus for two hours
Still can’t say no to him
Still can’t disappoint him
This music has been triggering my psychosis
I just hope I make it through
Somehow I always do though
This world needs a Jesus character and my guilt complex makes me think it should have to be me
I should have to try to change the world
I don’t know what that means
I am terrified of that thought gaining a foothold
Not me fighting it off because that’s stupid and I’m not that important and I will never be that important to the world’s story
Wallowing in feelings
There are deer now
So idyllic outside
So chaotic inside
Can you help me sort myself out?