This blog is for literally everyone. I share what is going on in my daily life, I talk about my opinions on the world, and I share pictures and videos and things for your entertainment. Sorry if I am boring (I may or may not be extremely boring and awkward) but if you don't like me, feel free to leave at any time. But just know, I will find all the haters and trolls, kidnap you, lock you in my basement, then blend you in a blender until a liquid has been reached and then sell you to the public as "Haterade." Thanks guys ^_^

Monday, March 4, 2013

the poem of my life 2-4-13

this poem describes my life. all credit goes to Dott Gibbons, quite a talented young woman whose in the exact same position as me. this one's for all the people out there who have it ruff... we have to stick together

Help Me...
Hello world.
I'm glad you stopped to read this.
I just need a little guidance from a friend
Or even a complete stranger.
People ask me
“Why are you so depressed all the time?”
Sometimes I wish I could just reply this:
“What? You're asking me why I'm depressed all the time?
Well, let's start with the basics.
My life at home sucks.
My two older sisters were a disgrace to the family
And my parents a relying on me
To be perfect in every way possible.
Get straight A's
Act like an angel
Stay at home and do nothing except good
Be prompt and ready when need be.
I'm just one little girl.
A little girl with more than one issues.
I don't get straight A's
More like straight D's.
I don't act like an angel
I'm a teenager, I'm going to rebel a bit.
I don't stay at home and do nothing but good
I do want to do things
And I do quite a bit of good
But I will act out ever now and then.
I'm not prompt and ready when need be
I have a life
I will be out and about when I want
And I can't just be sentenced to a duty I had no knowledge of a day before.
I'm not perfect.
I'm just me.
Isn't that good enough?
I guess it doesn't help the fact that I have ADD
And slight insomnia
And bipolar disorder
And dysthymia.
I was born with it.
I can't control them.
When God was making me,
He added to much freak and too little normal.
And with the diseases
Come the names from the bitches and normal people.
And I wonder,
'How would they like it,
If they had five diseases they couldn't control?'
They wouldn't like it.
And that brings me to the subject
Of my friends.
Four of my friends
All from way different sides of the spectrum on my friendship scale
You heard me.
They slit their wrists to release their pain
When they don't know half the shit I put up with for them.
One has depression.
One does it, and denies it
Even though they admitted it to all of us once.
One does it, and just hides in shame and heavy metal music.
One does it with their nails, only when they're mad
And they are very perky and bright.
And I'm in the corner of shame,
Promising that I won't tell because they say they'll get better,
Continuously watching their blood fall from their wrists and onto the floor.
They're all very different people too.
One is one of my best guy friends.
The other I don't really talk to.
Another of them used to be best friends with me,
Until they told me what they do.
One, still just confused in 7th grade.
And seeing the marks and scars up their arms from their actions
Makes me want to cry,
Knowing there is nothing I can do to stop them.
But I can't.
I have no more tears to cry.
My eyes dried out a long time ago.
And that reminds me,
Why was I cursed with all of this burden and regret?
Was it because God knew that I could handle it?
Because I know I can't.
Was it because fate decided to make me from the screw-up batch?
Because that batch should've just been thrown out.
Was it because the world decided that no one would like me
So they just made me miserable?
Because that's just not fair to me.
Sometimes I just wanna run away.
Run away from my family,
My friends,
My diseases,
My entourage of haters that haunt my being,
The world seemingly resting in my hands,
The string of bad luck and hatred for life.
If I could run away from that,
Just for a day,
I might not even come back.
But I would have to.
There are lives depending on who I am.
Without me,
They might worsen,
Or remind themselves that their lives are worth living
And succeed at the job of killing themselves,
Which would make me the most selfish person in the history of selfish people.
I have a job to do
And if I don't complete the tasks at hand
I would fail,
Putting people at risk.
And if that happened,
I wouldn't be able to live myself.
I know I need help,
But if I leave for a second,
Everyone's world will come crashing down
Including my own.
Poetry is like a little escape.
It helps me smile a blunt, halfhearted grin
For a moment of happiness.
But it still doesn't cure my responsibilities away.
I'm like a single snowflake.
Gorgeous and grieving,
Dancing and depressed,
Falling and faithful.
One of many snowflakes,
But deprived of a life worth living.
So it falls to the ground,
Waiting for the sun to come up,
To melt it away,
Away from the burden
Away from the pain
Away from the responsibility
And hope
And oblivion
And ambition,
Watching the others fade too.

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