On Writing Poetry

I let the poetry flow from my insides, straight to my fingertips.
The pain, fear, neglect pouring onto the page in an ugly array.
Depression is something many writers know well.
But we use that to our advantage.
Mincing the words together until they mean something, anything.
Then we expose them like a wound to the world for inspection.
They put words in between the lines that we painstakingly pulled from our hearts.
But that is the secret to our secret lives.
The satisfaction of no one knowing what is hidden behind those letters on the page.
They’re open for adaptation, so take what you need from our words.
Twist them as you please.
Only in our hearts lie the stories we mean.

Drift away

I just want to lay forever.
In a bed of red roses.
Never to lift my head.
And stay drifting away.

Living with Candida and IBS C and D

When you are trapped inside your own head it can be hard to break out. This condition steadily makes you retreat into the deepest parts of yourself. In one day I can go from being happy to frustrated, and then downright suicidal. It also does not help that it’s hard to talk about or express with words. The people around me don’t understand it. They just ignore me because I’m an enigma, something broken and foreign they don’t have time to comprehend. This self made isolation takes a toll. I dislike people I’ve known my whole life. I don’t want to go anywhere, do anything, or talk to anyone most of the time. When I do, I complain. I bitch, I moan, I have a pity party. Does no one see how frustrating that is? The energy it takes to act normal is staggering and it leaves me physically and mentally exhausted. I go from hating myself to hating others because I can’t express anything about this except “It sucks.” I want to scream, and break things, rip out my hair and claw my skin. You feel ugly, broken, empty, mean, sad, any number of negative things everyday. WHO IS THIS PERSON LIVING INSIDE OF ME? I don’t even know who I am half of the time. Favorite music? I don’t know. Favorite movie? I’ll watch whatever’s on I guess. I feel like my whole personality is this huge thunderous black cloud of toxicity that is enveloping my insides slowly like poison and wiping out any trace of the person I used to be, the girl people wanted to be around and talk to. Being lonely is dangerous when you’re like this. Friends will tell you “You can talk to me, I’m here for you,” but they aren’t. They get bored, their eyes glaze over, and they eventually get annoyed when you constantly need to talk so you recede farther and farther into this hole until you break. I didn’t ask for this and the cure is a long battle, but I try EVERY SINGLE DAY to fight this to the best of my ability, to just get my life back and I have to fight it alone. I just hope I see the light at the end of the tunnel. I’m putting my faith in God and God alone.