The Thoughts

There's a sickening in my stomach. It makes me wonder. The things that I don't understand. The high. Fuzzy and dizzy again. What shall I do? I'm going to get sick. Words on paper don't make sense. My poor tired heavy head longs to rest. Reality come again another day. I want to see something radical. Something I've never seen before. Bring me to your next level. The taste so bitter I could gag. Chew Chew Chew. Is this the reason why I have come to you today? Thoughts of wavering, wandering guitar riffs. The dungeon is calling my name. I have no name to be called. Scream. Shout. Cry. Yelp. Confusion. Twisted tongues. Numb to the fingertips. Death. Blood. Guts. Torture. Damn aspirin.

The rainbow road crosses my path. Turn right they tell me. I don't want to conform into this everyday path. Left, I choose, left. Shake me awake into a field of flowers. Miles of daisy stare me right between the eyes. Bright blue skies hover over my eyes. Smiles in the clouds point me towards the East. I lift my arms to feel the breeze run through my flesh. Cool air send shivers down my spine. I remember the one thing that cuts me down every time. "You're not the prettiest girl". My soul ices over. Dark thoughts spin. 

I'm strong. I have strength. I have power. Queen, perhaps not. Princess, not even close. Just an average little girl, ha! Wouldn't you like to think so. There's something good in all of us. I know. I just don't believe. What is believing anyways? Some little faith on something that may or may not be true. Truth. Is there even a real truth? Critics will always find some falsehood in your beliefs. Those dumb fucking critics. Hateful. Evil. Vindictive.

My world. My circus. Use it to my advantage. Lock me away in some hospital. No windows. No doors. No escape. Yes, indeed, then I would lose it. Not even a pen to scribble the walls black.

Fuzzy
Dizzy
Confusion

That Blow

Snorting isn't my favorite pastime, but what do you do when you're so fucking bored. Cabin fever. Stakes are highly set on passing that stage years ago. I just want to escape from this reality for awhile. Feel something from a different world. Crushing up those extra 6mg of Clonzo probably won't help this situation. Opioids. The fuzzy dizzy feeling. When did I start enjoying that? Maybe I don't even have a problem. Is bored a sickness? My anxiety, Is it even real? Or is it waiting for that next high? The next glimpse of freedom. The next out of control feeling. Not out of control, just not in control. My mind/thoughts are no longer in control. My body just flows. My body already has a plan when I'm doped up. It can just go. Freely, without questioning opinions of my mind putting me down. What kind of sickness is that? I need that barrier down. A restraint from being myself. Reserved from my own happiness. Where do I go from here? I need assistance, permission, liberation, approval, and the freedom. I'm in constant battle with my mind to do the right things. Not to shut down, unable to process the daily tasks. Is it a attention deficient? Is it a focus problem? Is it a self-esteem problem? Is that holding me back? Self-confidence, because I use to think I had that in High School. Before all the drug use. I thought I could achieve anything. Looking back, I dressed how I wanted to with no care as to how people thought. I came home and worked endlessly on my hobbies. (Sewing, Modeling, Editing) I thought I was highly confident, although I was still very shy. As of now, my world has flopped. I'm not that shy, but I have no confidence. How do I build that up? I need to take the negative people out of my life to move in a supportive uplifting group of people. I use to spend hours in front of the mirror talking to myself. It brought me into another world where I didn't need other people to be happy. I had myself and my reflection. We could talk about anything. Role-play and be the top Anchor for a special news crew. I'm starting to feel the effects of the fuzz. I still have much to say. NO one is out to get me. I need NEED to start looking outward. Noitice other people. How they are feeling? How cute that new hairstyle is? Selflessness is the nicest thing anyone can give. Giving is most important. More than most people would love to talk about themselves, or get a simple compliment.

"Oh my! I love those shoes! What's the story behind those?"
"Wow, look at that necklace! Is that filigree?"
"Hello, I'm Jenny. I'm a stay at home Mom. I'm sous chef next to my grandmother in the kitchen." 
"Call me crazy, but I just love vintage fashion."
 My brain goes haywire after meeting new people. There's always that uncomfortable fear of your feet shuffling or looking down and away for too long. How can I help this behavior?
What is this behavior?
I can see it in front of me. That obstacle. The mountain. The treacherous journey that lies in front of me. Not for one moment, will I lose hope on my self. I can only chance. If that doesn't fly me in to happiness, then by then I will know who the real challenge is. I always hold hope for it. Guidance will be wrapped around us. Chains and thorns, tears and confusion. Lord, please help me. I give all my faith into you. I fear you. I've been up and down for the last seven years. The mood swings, the fatigue, the drained and exhausted mental power is running out of time and patience.   
  

I hate you

Why are you such an asshole? You think you walk on water and own me like some pet. You treat your dog better than me. You're a jerk and don't even realize it. You think all our problems are based on me. I hate you. I've hated you the very first day we met. My life has took a turn for the worst now, and I have to deal with it til the day I die. You say you have faith in God, but your actions and words do not follow. You do not show grace. You do not show compassion. There is no ounce of emotion in your eyes an I'm sick of it. I'm sick you saying that pouring your emotions out is gay or what a pussy would do. You're not a man. You're not man enough to face your emotions. Just because you work, you think you are King. You are wrong. Being a mother is twice as hard as going to some job. You have the luxury of getting out of the house and driving away. You have the luxury of making money and spending it how you please. Then you come home and treat me like a slave. You're a slob beyond anything. I just scrubbed the bathroom of your dirt and filth just so you can come in an track dirt back in. You dump your dirty clothes on the floor when the basket is two feet away! I'm tired of your fucking candy wrappers and beer cans cluttering up my space! I wish you'd just go away! Leave me alone! I don't want to spend my life in your control. Your apologies piss me off. You're not even sincere. You're a real jackass. I can't wait when I can get the chance to leave and runaway from your bullshit. You're a fake. God will see all. 

Good riddance, fucktard! 

I woke up one day

"Why did you stop taking your medications?"a very concerned old man who I considered was the geeky type back in the day, replied.

"I woke up one day and decided I was going to wash the bedding. I chose my high school rainbow comforter instead of my down one. Just how I woke up one day and decided to not take my medications. I just want to go the natural way, and worrying over my meds made me more of a mess. I knew that from day one, and I told you that!" I cleared my throat. Things were turning into the wrong direction quickly. Deep breaths, and control. "I own this body. I can control this body. I just don't need antidepressants." I finished.

"Well, I checked your thyroid and...
(To be con may 9th)

What a mess

Fear creeps into my mind as I sit upon the wooden planks. They let me get by without saying much. I simply cannot talk. Or do I refuse to talk? Since I've had this privledge all my life engraved in me. They see that I'm broken and let it slide. I can't even imagine what I look like to people. Sure, I had my share of break downs. The feeling to escape, heavy breathing, panic battle zone enters my mind worrying about who I am as a person. I can't escape my social anxiety cage. Of what they expect of me, what they need from me, what I need to give back to them.

To whom it may concern:

My life has come to be such an intoxication. Goals and dreams of destination. Spiraling down this tube of desperation. The people I've come to know are paths beyond the chosen. Drink up all the wine, I cannot wait for judgement day. How can a gypsy sneak her way through this despicable cave? A gentleman never asks, and the lady never tells.

I'd assume she'd make it out very well. Shine bright like a diamond. The closing of  a door can only mean an opening of another. For the flap of a butterfly's wing can manifest into something as great as a hurricane. Waves the height of New York skyscrapers barreling down on weak wooden houses of the South, are chances of something great before us. A new paved land to invent and renovate for the good. A fresh blank page awaiting funky fresh ideas created by you.

You, the victory you won in a battle of millions. The you that knows you have a ton of friends, counting family that you can lean on when you are in trouble or in despair. The you that knows that people make mistakes and you can't please everyone else. The you that knows if you want something you have to go out there and get it.

P.S. You must give love to receive love.

Sincerely,
Anon

Gore and Ships

I pace back and forth among the kitchen tile. My headache was growing upon my shoulders. I reach up and grasp my shoulder muscle to relieve the pain. I begged the lord for a cigarette. The pressure was getting too much for any of us to bear. My anxiety was through the roof. Any minute I could burst, and grab the nearest sharp object. My emotions would be masked by all of this insanity and plunge that sharp object right into the first person  who crossed my path. Picturing the blood spilling out of their mid-section put a smile on my face.