Bleh.
All this I feel is pain.
All I want to do is ****.
This pain turns to anger.
Anger which then turns to hate.
All back to the beginning.
A continuous cycle.
Never stopping

He said... I've no feelings no more,
I'm just bleh.
I said...
That's okay, darling...
Bleh is not that bad,
Bleh is good for us.
As long as we bleh together...  (^-^)/

You asked me how I am doing
and I said “Good”
You asked me to be honest
and I said “I’m fine”
You told me to expand.
I replied,
"I'm not good at all.
And I want that to be simple enough.
I'm not being exaggerative
or selfish
or birthing drama for drama's sake.
It's just that I am here.
Here on silly earth,
And I feel alone at crossroads in my life.
I am under no illusion
of my incredibly blessed
or undeserving existence.
But that's just the problem.
LIFE is starting now.
And for the first time,
I have had to make choices
choices on my own
choices
that
(according to mother)
will shape who I fundamentally
become as a human.
So that's a bit distracting.
‘You need to remember not to let people down.’
‘You should consider how you love someone, not just when to.’
‘You ought to be more assertive or it'll all come crashing down.’
She reminds me of my
uncontrollable imperfection
on a daily basis
Not necessarily through her words
I doubt she wants to inflict this on me.
But the way way she stares at me sometimes
from across the room.
Silently.
Like she’s trying to admire a painting
that secretly
no one quite appreciates
or understands
but everyone seems to find profound meaning in it
so you go along
with the show.
Which I wouldn't have a problem with
if I could wake up refreshed in the
morning.
And not tired
like I am.
All the time.
I’m tired of being fifteen.
Because inside,
I don’t feel fifteen.
My mind turns on fifty year old gears
churning up one hundred year old
philosophies.
But
The age in which I currently must suffer through
is misunderstood
and incorrectly represented.
Teenager is a word parents
shudder to hear.
A word elders instantly accuse.
A word authorities doubt without reasonable basis.
The drum pumping my soul
is in fact a solo ensemble.
But
I am naturally clumped in with the lot
of marching bands
that clash and crash,
stomp and slam their drums
as they parade the flag
of fickle rebellion
into the air they barely know.
Don’t get me wrong,
the stereotypes of my age and time
are drawn up
from some truth,
but one truth shouldn’t result
in one outlook.
You don’t roll dice with
only threes on the faces
or only ones.
So it is hard to watch as
everywhere I go,
titles and labels
are being stuck into me
like toothpicks in a fruit salad.
And first of all,
just because society cuts me up
and breaks me down like a pineapple
you can buy with leftover quarters
doesn’t mean that I’m up for grabs.
And secondly,
No one should be branded
simply because
it is easier to ignore them
than to know them.
Don’t hear this as a “oh she’s a teenage girl” moment
hear this as a “she’s a human and wants to be heard without your filter over her words” moment
So, I’m having a hard time with that.
Not to mention the rest.”

“The rest?” You asked.

“You know,”
I said,
“How I have to decide what school
I am going to commit to
which is slightly like choosing
between your two parents.
You can’t pick one happily
and freely
without knowing what could’ve been
if you lived with dad instead.
It’s tricky to wake up in the morning.
It’s tricky to get out of bed
because I know that sooner than later
I will either be moving
that bed into the basement
or into a dorm
which won’t be on the campus I really desire
because God knows I didn’t
save enough pennies for that.
My whole future is before me.
Almost literally
considering the number of pamphlets stapled
over the dreams I carved so meticulously
out of my ‘mind wood’
with my ‘What do you want to be when you grow up’ knife.
So that’s intimidating.
And all those “it’ll work itself out” speeches
that surround me
don’t make the choices
suddenly blare across the radio
or start blinking from neon signs
telling me what to do
what to chose
what to be.
In the end,
all those “don’t worry about it”
and “you’ll figure it out”
do nothing but put a knot in my gut
that no amount of research
or interviews
or Friday night pig outs
can untie.
Because this stuff,
these moments as I build my foundation
for my single LIFE with little slippery Lego blocks
are not made with cheery hand-outs
or inspiring quotes.
LIFE is formed by me
choosing which Lego brick color
choosing which Lego brick shape
and of course
choosing which people will
help me to construct it.
It’s tricky
It’s messy
It’s loud
and it makes other things
hard to focus on.”

“Other things?”
You said.

“Other things.”
I reply.
“You know,
those books I have to read
those graphs I have to draw
those tests I have to study for
those miles I have to run
those words I have to memorize
those labs I have to finish
those annotations I have to complete
those poems I have to parse.
Just THOSE.
Don’t get me wrong.
I don’t mind school
Unlike the kids who complain
that they are forced to educate themselves.
I have no problem learning.
In fact, I want to
long to.
TEACH ME, WORLD!
TEACH ME HOW TO UNDERSTAND YOU IN EVERY LANGUAGE I CAN!
It’s not the books
or the deadlines.
It’s the people.
Bleh.
The people.
The cowardly childish people
with their smug clothes
and horrendous attitudes
that you can smell just over
the stink of their pomp.
Truthfully,
I feel for them
because they don’t feel for themselves.
and because there is little way to prove to these kids
that they can be them
not doctored them
or decorated them
the “them” they thrive to be
not the “them” they try to be.
So I’m surrounded by people
icky people
whose glares and stares
and whispers like cold ghosts
leave me too feeling torn between
being myself
(whatever that even means)
and being accepted.
I want to be free
to try new things,
but new things are poison here at school
new things are demeaning
because they’re demanding.
So,
I have moments where I say
‘Be you. What does it matter?’
But then when I am alone
at the table
at the only open table
with the last chair
the one that squeaks if you
rock to the left
when I am
listening to the music no one knows
and reading the book no one chose
thinking about the movie even no theater shows
that’s when moments of guilt ridden
loneliness bring me to say
‘Put yourself away for now.
Put in a pin in it.
Come back to what you want
after you’re done being what
society thinks you need.’
Because
it is hard to be loved
by one sided people
it is hard to be loved
when the world wants you to say
what it wants to hear.
Us teenagers think we wear invincibility cloaks
So we never have to see those under the invisibility cloaks
‘Don’t question it!’
seems to be the motto of most I meet here.
Because who wants to learn,
who wants to try
if it makes them question their comfort?
And of course that all just touches the surface
of that other thing.
The thing I don’t want to really talk about.”

You pushed me to tell you.

So I did.
“I’m afraid
of God.
I’m afraid
of Death.
I can’t go off of blind faith
like I did when I was young.
I can’t accept ‘Jesus loves you
this I know’
because this I don’t know.
And no one
Not my parent
Not my mentor
Not even my Bible
can give me enough hope in this regard
to bring me to accept not knowing.
This amount of stress is me
Sits as a damp frog
Pestering me to choose
Croaking up unformed opinions
in the form of tar
that I get trapped in.
How can I believe in something
How can I devote my life to something
How can I pray to someone
that I am not even convinced has cared
for a thousand years?
I want to think God knows my name
that he is above me as
those shiny, divine painting portray.
But they’re lies.
And people expect me to believe
that he is smiling down on me like
a new daddy over a crib.
He isn’t a father to me.
So, I feel lost
and confused
and scared that I’m wrong
and even more terrified that I am right.
I’m scared of
God.
And I’m scared
to die.
I don’t quite think I even know
how to live yet.”

“Oh,”
You said.

“Yeah,”
I whispered.
“I know.”

We both paused.
Remember?
My arms rested
at my sides.
Heavy.
Yours swung across
your chest.
Nervous.

“So you’re doing great then?”
You managed to slide through a smile.
“That’s good to hear.”

Head heavy
Chest empty
Brain swimming endlessly
Stomach churning
Throat burning
This broken heart is destiny
Spiraled thoughts
My mind is taut
The OCD attacks fully
These stupid lies
Waste so much time
As if you'd ever think of me

When does strength mask emotion?
I'm so in control I don't feel the need to write.
Yet, I want to.
A place for me to admit my short comings,
A place to merely be real with who I am becoming.
A woman who doesn't settle,
but hides behind her face.
No one will see this pain.
Suicide before they see me cry...
No. That's silly.
Life is a bigger and better adventure than that.
Then why is it still on my mind every week?
At some point I'm alone and something happens...
It points out a fault, a short coming, a failure ..
Then my mind wanders to all the pain,
the lies, manipulations, loss..
and I can't hide from that truth.
That behind this mask,
no one knows me.
This too, is my fault.

Hope you feel better than i do
Todays my moms birthday...
i feel so nervous
im tired
my stepdad called me a *** and goth over me being emo
and almost killed me for the 3rd time
i feel like the cover of a fricking Nirvana album
bleh
I don't kno any more

Don't you just feel like that sometimes
Like you just want to fall over dead
bleh
But it's not that easy
Nothing is
Well, except pulling the trigger :]

You chomp through your Cheetos
and wipe the orange dust
on the white leather seat of
my sofa
Your laughter echoes down
the hall
the walls find it contagious
but my brain
my brain
my brain pulses with anger
exertion to the surface
of my skin
back and forth
back and forth
down the hall
I get the stain remover
and finally enter the family room
and you're not there
no one is
and neither is the stain
I remember I'm alone
wishing these things
a big
white
empty house
wishing to get angry
with meaningless
stains

and you're never there
where are you

In the middle of the internet theres a hole the size of the peoples heart

Wrapped in
Bubble fusion
irregular class pass
vision byway of the
whisper game
to the front of the bus reboated out of highway water

rascals groove
flow locking echos print d na na na na bleh tires rolled through our mud but we making ***** smiley faces

Listening to a podcast
On the four noble truths
And the eightfold path

My akward body
Is still the same

My akward body
It will not change

I read on the back of some protein bar
"This bar is for the doers"
"For the busy,"
What a bunch of nonsense

I live inside a computer simulation

Non-doing
Non action

You know one day I realized
That no therapist
No amount of praying
Would ever fix my shoulder

Why did this happen to me?
I just want a normal shoulder

Good people like me
Suffering with a disability

Oh well

Same dull face

Yesterday
I lay against the rock
On the public library lawn

I listen to podcasts

My car is being fixed
I will walk akwardly
To the post office
Then to the gym

Just going through motions
Again and again

It's all meaningless
Plain to see

An absurd planet
It seems to be

The urge to eat
The urge to have an ******

Repetitive urges

Chipping golf *****
Relaxing I suppose

Bleh, blah, bleh

Ignored by women
I don't care

Look at that beetle
Walking over there

Human life
Is awfully dumb

Miserable taoist
Says a kind hello

A conversation with
A caring person
Would be fun

But my prayers
Remain unanswered
Guess they are not
That important anyway

Listening to more podcasts
On this day

Some cereal, yogurt
And oranges
I did eat

They really were
A delicious treat

Walking in and out
Of forest trees
Extinguishes all desire
Is how it should be

Beautiful and vain people
Everywhere

My dull earth body
I walk akwardly
Who cares?

From dust I came
To dust I shall return

This is my poem
Now its your turn

lingering memories..
that last string hanging hard
that vase cracking slowly.
tsunami tides.
frustration and anger.

my default vision i guess,
all around was beauty and melody.
everything swept with a thunder.
i see.
those bullets not worth.

I stood on the seaweed green carpet in my room
I can't sit on my bed
I figured I should go out of this world standing tall as opposed to the
Cowardice I'd been living so far
It wasn't that difficult to get my hands on a gun
My father had an antique revolver in the back of his closet
Behind his box full of well-aged whiskey
And a small package of bullets
I loaded the silver bullet of hope
My ticket out of suffering
And heard it click into place
Now came the second part, and perhaps the most difficult, of the deal
This gun provides the lethal power and capability to blow my brains out and I
Muster up the man power to simply pull the trigger
A shaky hand lifted the refulgent gun to my temple
One shot and I would be gone
A sense of relief crept up and overwhelmed the acid waves in my stomach seizing its chance
My mom was out at the grocery store and would make a stop to do some back-to-school shopping for me
I didn't have the heart to tell her she would just be wasting her money
And my dad was at work, the bags in his eyes from working long nights would droop more and the crevices around his eyes would multiply when he found out about his son
My siblings were at their cousin's house and I'm sure the neighbors wouldn't care of the ear splitting noise
As my finger pulled down an immense pain grew in my head
The dull blue walls began to spin
I found myself on the carpet and a river of crimson flowed down my arm and soiled the brilliance of the revolver.
Gray and black dots speckled my vision and the blurry picture went completely out in my left eye
Slight vibrations of footsteps thumping up the stairs pulsed through the carpet
There was banging on the door
And eventually someone breaking the door through
I just wanted to be left alone to die, didn't they ever see it?
Manic sobs of a women and,"My baby, not my baby!" rang throughout the room
My lips parted as I attempted to say,"It's ok, I'll be ok, I can finally be happy" but nothing came out
Only blood
Shaking fingers stroked my hair desperately and I saw a piece of my head come off in my mother's hand
She cradled my head in her lap already presuming me dead and sobbed silently into my chest
Smearing blood onto her delicate face
The pool of crimson turned into an ocean
And I dived right into death

Is it true what they say?
That there are other fish in the sea...
Are you the one for me?
Or am I just chasing dreams?
A lover I never knew,
A longing I've always had.
A curious thought turned inside out,
And the good times turn to bad.
I sit alone watching the moon drape over the clouds.
A little whisper in the dark assures me of my fears.
Another night I'll never remember in all my years.
Can I hold on to what's left?
A glimmer of a hope of a dream inside my head of what was to come.
Or will it pull me down to sequences of hell that repeat on prime-time?
Can I let go to find that I'm just dangling my feet over a curb?
Or fall to see the ground rushing to meet me?
And I know, I know - that the pavement always wins,
But as my next life begins,
I'll end up swimming right back to you.
Come hell or high water,
Every mother and their daughter,
I'll swim the whole sea through.
Cause I cant see any fish but you.

The steel door has closed
Stopping the flow of
Psychotically devoted emotions
From pouring out of my heart
And into the words that you read
My words are bland
Yet met my feelings have spice
Why can't I put word to feeling today?

Must make money.....

Must do all my school work.....

Must work out and lose enough pounds that I'm not fat anymore...

Must regain all the trust that has been lost....

Must find a way to make everything better again.....

AHH

How to prioritize????

You can only put so much into one without completely losing all the others.

Doing the same thing
At the same time
Bleh

I couldn't imagine the
Horror of it all

It's 11:25
And I just ate
Some peanut butter

He is excited
To get his medicaid
Part of a health care system
That does not function well

She laughed at the fact
That I had 68 cents in my account

Hah so funny
Yes I'm poor
So are you

You haven't done
A ******* thing in thirty years
Except watch the evening news

So you can just shut up

The email served
As my official letter of resignation

They wished me all the best
In my endeavors.

I don't have any
I just want to go here
Go there

No goals
Or endeavors
I don't
******* care

1+1 does not equal 3
But it does on earth
So **** me

A rational mind
In an irrational world

A hurky jerky coaster
Can make you hurl

Ex therapist
She who must not be named

For taking such a meaningful
Experience from my life

You could care less

No female friend
Ever came

Well, thanks anyway
I could care less

You ruined things

Thanks again
For ruining things

Bleh

All around me are
Worn out faces

Same old places

Nothing is changing at all

On the internet
I meet wonderful people

But they are so far away

And I wonder
Am I slowly dying
Slowly dying
Slowly dying each day

And I'm alone
So alone
And I don't care

Do not care
Anymore at all

To my old therapist
I really hate you
Really hate you

Bleh

What a stupid whiner I am
Whine, don't whine
It doesn't matter

It's a big world
That swallows me whole

I'm out there somewhere
Alone

Just ******* bleh.
****.

Every time I stare into my reflection
Blood starts to surface
I’m not one to be offended by rejection
But the reflection refuses my stance
I’d call myself an infection
The hairs on my neck start to dance.

I feel like an outcast from the world
I'm definitely there
But no one seems to care
Just because you can’t see me
It doesn’t mean i'm not there
I'm like the stars in the daylight
But you can see me clearly In the dark night
Isn’t it ironic the way I express
My mind feels blank but at the same time i'm a mess.