Midnight Revelation

I've been wondering lately and not-so-lately why I cannot seem to enjoy anything. I can be good at things--yes, but I cannot seem to enjoy anything worthwhile. It's always been separate from my confusion as to why I seem to be horrible at relationships. And the answer, I think, is at least partially found in Kantianism. I treat everything, humans and hobbies alike as a means to an end--every holiday, every worthwhile book, every friend serves as a means to an end. But nothing can be enjoyed if it is simply a means. I'm sorry, that's not quite right. Yes, things can be enjoyed as a means to an end--but they will always be unsatisfactory. Take a book for example: I would never enjoy Chronicles of Narnia if I were told that it is a spectacular scholarly book that I MUST enjoy if I ever want to be considered a literature student. I read Narnia because it soothes me and yet it is intellectually enlightening at the same time. It brings me joy -- and more joy than pure entertainment.

So, Kant said we cannot treat PEOPLE as a means to an end because they are rational beings. But I say we cannot treat anything as a means to an end--yes, we can and should do things as stepping stones to what we really want but our ultimate goal cannot be to please people or to feed our pride or loneliness.

Is everyone depressed?

If I, a supposedly calm individual has so much confusion buried within, then what of everyone else? A conversation I had on Sunday was interesting: I asked a fellow classmate if it were possible for anyone to actually be happy. He said yes--lots of people are. But are they though? Is everyone simply depressed and pretending and coping? Maybe the way I cope is isolation, but maybe other people cope by screaming it out loud to everyone, or acting blur, or laughing loudly, or flirting. Is everyone depressed? Or is it like my classmate said--that most people are relatively okay. Because I honestly don't remember the last time I was "okay". It has been years.

So, am I part of that weird segment of the depressed population? Or is everyone?

Use me/ the cliche-est poem ever. IDC

I don't let you in
Cause if I do
You'll stop caring

If I fake timidity
Then maybe
You'll think of me as fragile
Then you'll hold me

Funny story:
People hug me a lot more
when they first get to know me

Then for some reason
I become not worth the hugs
I'm left unhinged
Why.

Maybe next time
I should just pretend to not be me
Then maybe you'll love me

Ugh.

I am obsessively writing
Maybe nothing makes sense
But my hands are moving
And that's something
I should be sleeping

But how can a helpless one not be sleepless

I feel like punishing myself
By staying up the whole night and studying
But I'm too tired for self-abuse
I'll just do verbal abuse tonight
This feels so psychotic
But no one really cares

I'm just me.
Alone
Not huggable.
Good night.

Say Hi.

Poetry is always easier because you get to put the feelings down potently, in a blend of metaphors and reality. It's sharper. But when the feelings are not strong enough, or too strong, then it's time for the prose to be broken out.

The feelings are non-existent
The feelings are my existence.

Okay, no more poetry. So, I seem to be horribly, terribly messed up. I am a ball of tightened wits screaming for attention.

Okay, I'm done resisting the metaphors. It's apparently inherent in my writing.  But back to the wits. I feel so tightened. It's not really pain, it's not like the acute feelings that I used to have. It's tight but it's a blur--it's not clear cut what's wrong. Or maybe it is.

When I try to verbalize it, all I get is a jumble of not-quite-right metaphors and tiredness and hunger and lack thereof.

My feelings used to make me restless, to provoke me to action. Now all that's left is bitterness. I feel like the beauty has been drawn out.

I feel like a monster--an attention-seeking, ugly-looking, workaholic, falsely humble monster.
And honestly, I don't feel like doing anything about it. I've tried to get over it--it doesn't work. I cringe when I see other people getting hugs because despite my hardened, put-together, blur, concrete(*inserts negative connotation) exterior, I want to express my feelings to other human beings. But I also don't want to come across as needy. Sometimes I just mask my real insecurities with false ones and then I just look like I'm dabbling in false humility about things that aren't really bothering me.

I am calling myself names and smiling bitterly. I am swearing off being passive aggressive to others but I treat myself that way constantly. I'm thankful that I'm not sexually attractive or so many guys would have taken advantage of me. I'm just me. Alone. Overly emotional and overly apathetic at the same time.

Say hi to the monster.

Chaos

Black "X" on my hand says I'm underaged
Black "X" on my heart says I'm stained

Rivers
Rivers
Come at me now
I'm looking at the desert
No, I'm not running anymore
I stopped after a 1000 miles
No water

Rivers
Rivers
Come at me now
I've lived a thousand yesterdays
Never caught up to today
I'm gone

Screaming at myself
Obsessively chewing
Lying down knowing
The tired eyes smiling
Back at me

I'm a liability to the population
My viability is my obsession
Rivers
Rivers
Come at me now
I'm dying of trying
Of the wantings and longings
They pull me so hard
The rope stretches, and stretches, and stretches
It breaks.
fire consumes it immediately
ashes.

There are no words.

Slam Poetry Attempt

I am an acute exaggeration of rejection. The thrusting of a soul from the midst of society. I am paralyzed, crippled, killed by this fear. Scream. It's that snicker from that girl in kindergarten, told me I was too fat. Scream. It's me trying to get noticed but get rejected one more time. Scream. It's me dancing but looking too silly to be lovely. Scream. But nothing comes out anymore. It's all gone. My heart is like a wartorn society. Scream. Only breath, no sound, no one hears me. Scream. Only laughs at the awkward girl left behind by a trail of fairy dust. Scream. Sigh. Die.

A Hug.

I dreamt of a hug
 engulfing me
Like the pounding of a drum
 on a sacred night
Like a whisper, like a bellow
Like a trickling stream, like a wild ocean
Like a haptic smile
I dreamt of a hug

But I wake up
And the cold engulfs me again
Hugs me in fact; the painful irony
I pull the covers tight
And close my eyes
I dream of a hug again

A hug is like
 a together sigh
 a gentle collide

A hug is a net
I gladly give in to the trap
I dream, I dreamt, I will dream,
 of a hug.

late night rambles

One of the things I hate the most
is sounding cheesy
But today, today I will risk it.

It seems my life
Is a thousand paces a day
And I cry
And I try
And with every breath
That used to hold inklings of hope
Now they contain breaths of death
of the tired
of the weary

i hate the sight of this laptop
or maybe I don't
I hate that I try
But no one ever tries back
I hate that I smile
But by the time someone else tries to respond
I'm too tired.

It seems all the seeds I've sown
They've decided not to reap
Or maybe they have
But no one cares

Sing

Honestly
It's hard to breathe

Honestly
I'm incomplete

Honestly
When the fire goes down
And I'm needing you still
And I push you away

It's me

I wanna sing about the grass
About the wits we both have
About the jokes that make sense
About the tear in the same spot
on both our jeans
because we sneaked through the same fence

Honestly.

I wanna sing about the walls
That we built around ourselves
and at the very same moment
we looked up and realized
that we'd forgotten to block each other out
And we held our hands together
And we blew a gentle breath
A more than gentle whisper
And the walls came crashing down

I'll always remember you as the one
I forgot to chase out
Before I built my walls around

I wanna sing about the roses
About the flowers in the night
That we thought weren't there
We had no light

But today,
today is our sunrise.

King

I wanna see beauty for beauty
See music for music
To dance for the joy
To dance for the movement

I'm tired of moving for you
Of stopping for you
Of giggling for you

My King is higher
He deserves a sincere dance
:)

Ode to ____

The silky, smooth skin
That somehow coexists
with the sturdy, white body

The rough, sandpapery fingers,
Sketched with every shade of rust.
They entwine my own and move me,
The metacarpals dance.

Lets me tune his heart strings
But they rip if I push too hard
His voice deep echoes
Blends with my sweet mellows
I feel the weight of his song upon me
I bear it on my shoulders gladly
Every slight vibration of his heart moves me,
Pulls me
Pushes me
Hugs me.

And his name
is "Bass Guitar".

facade

I stare at the keys
Waiting.

Beautiful words will catch me
Catch me in their ancient tune.
I stare.
I trust the words to come.

You broke me.

See, when I was younger I was headstrong
Happy and hyper
Wild, not carefree though, I will admit.

I was full of myself
But I was still myself
I was the girl that sported the short hair
That sang and laughed
Secure.

I remember then the years of fear
When I pushed it all away
I didn't care what people would say
And the rejection brewed
Like a silent espresso
It roared,
But I pushed it down.
Fear.
I realized not everybody liked me.

So the mechanism kicked in
The symposium for the world
No I didn't unseal my wounded heart
But instead of pushing it down
With bare, concrete walls
I painted pictures on the walls
Pretty pictures
Just for you.

See the butterflies and the trees
The willows, the darker rose
See the dove and the sparrow
See the owl and the eagle

But no, there was no owl and eagle.
They were too real, too poignant
Pictures too close to who I really was.

So I flashed a smile
And faked a laugh
And begged you to come home
And I played the chick that needed you
I played the girl that quivered
I played the girl that cried
I played the girl that wasn't strong enough
That needed you tonight

If I said you slammed me down and broke me
We both know it would be a lie
If I said you objectified me
I would be a self-pitying facade.

But I didn't want to be alone
So I held on to my pretty pride
With hunched shoulders
I wished you'd break through my blockade.

It was never realistic
But I wished it anyway
I kept the ever-smiling face
Hoping you'd see the tears hidden
In every dimple
In every laugh
In every song
I ever sang
I wished you'd see through my facade

But you seemed to like me just like that
Pretending to not know much
To be the girl that played dumb for laughs
You preferred me to be mush

I don't blame you
It wasn't, no it wasn't pretty inside.

See even the words don't make sense
They flutter from weak to strong
They flutter from wanting you to resisting you

Honestly, I'm not sure
What I really want.
Will you love me anyway?

google searching

The metaphors are old
overused
dry
dead.

ugh
ugh
ugh
ugh
ugh
ugh
ugh

every night i try to see
if the music will come through for me
it does
in spatters
it leaks in
then leaves me to die

ugh
ugh
ugh
ugh
ugh
ugh

i find myself google searching
empty pushing
always laughing
ever suppressing
life is daunting
no more chanting
i am panting
i am panting
i am panting

i long for touch
for songs, for dance
for movies that make me feel again
but the memories of tiny inklings of love
that seeped through the walls
of my bloodstained halls
seem to be all that's left
of the days when my heart beat
see the dead metaphors rise again
the days when my soul screeched
but it lived
it lived
my soul lived

Chanting
Chanting
Chanting

I'm not the only one suffering.

Have you seen the traces of his hands
In mine
Burned in

Have you seen the blood in his veins
Flowing in mine

I don't know who I speak of.

Seven Billion Hungry Souls

I've got these pieces you see.
Of dust, of glass, of moldy crusts.
I've got these wounds you see,
They hurt sometimes.

I'm trying to synthesize two worlds
They both exist
I'm trying not to die

I'm trying to scream
But nothing is coming out

Because what do you do
When your loyalty seems to lie with a monster
who is not really a monster
He is good
But he feels like a monster sometimes

And then I know that I'm the monster
The ghost of the future
That I'm a vague image of reality
I'm not real
I'm a mist of someone real
Someone clearer

And I'm letting them hold me
Cause no one holds me
I'm letting them touch me
Cause no one touches me

We're seven billion hungry souls.

Cellos

Broken baskets
That won't hold the tears
They have holes
They have holes


It's dancing in me
I want to be free


I hear the echoes of a beautiful day
I hear the cellos but they drift away
Screaming in the night sky
Tomorrow is the day we'll fly


You heard the beat of that drum tonight?
You heard the beat of the song?
Screaming in the night sky
Won't let you pass by
O-o-o-o-oooo-oooo

It's a punch
It's a dance
It's straight
It's crooked
It's full
It's empty
It's the heart
of a lonely so---oo-oul

Heart of a lonely soul