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Unspoken thoughts about and to my therapist

I Can't Take It

Written by:bewilderness
Published on August 20th, 2011 @ 11:39:56 pm , using 31 words, 396 views
Posted in bewilderness

No more wandering away from my reality
Here it is:
cold, thick, and plain.
Overwhelmingly so.
No more commandeering inspiration
No more tripping through fantasies of competence
Here I am
again.
Sober.
Warm and frightened.
Unimpressive.
insignificant.
No escape.
I can't take it.

The "Good" Split

Written by:bewilderness
Published on September 17th, 2011 @ 04:07:06 am , using 80 words, 378 views
Posted in bewilderness

27 July 2011

Every second I sat
shuddering, there
staring at absolutely nothing, absolutely anything
but your face.
Was a wasted moment of
"our time together."
But it was your fault
Your voice turns me into a rat in your maze
somehow I'm transfixed
I'll do anything
for the smallest crumb of cheese.
Why do I give you this power over me...
and trust you?
The sound of my name in your mouth is hypnotizing.
My heart flinches in its anticipation.
I'm standing on the edge,
strap a parachute on me and push.

 

 

Nervous

Written by:bewilderness
Published on August 3rd, 2011 @ 09:27:18 pm , using 63 words, 931 views
Posted in bewilderness

Its funny how they quake and shake
shattering any semblance of humanity.

What I don't understand is how fear and anger are both
the same and not, and what I don't understand
is how you can notice but not react
respond but not notice.
And I don't understand
how to fix what's wrong
without paying attention to it.

Its strange how they jump and jitter
disembodied souls connected
by their very disconnection.

Cursor

Written by:bewilderness
Published on August 24th, 2011 @ 02:43:01 pm , using 132 words, 1206 views
Posted in bewilderness

I'm staring at it blinking back
at me...

thinking about my past....

mistakes.
Depression, who me?

Heck no!

...ever since I was about 12 or so
and throwing rocks through windows
in a fit of temper!
can you say es-ca-late?
Anxiety: disorder, oh sweet
first of diagnoses
Doc, I mean, really?
Tell us something we don’t know.

Take two and call me in the morning,
but--
Go to hell, doctor, its not working(not really)(I mean. . . I can't tell.)
So. I'll try my own way, but its not working either
so okay
I’ll swallow your damn pills.

...and its been that way ever since
my first visit to the hospital.

Depression, who me?
Isn't it humbling to not even know
if I'm happy
or not?

I AM NOT DEPRESSED!
(okay maybe  a little)
..

....

..........ookay, maybe alot. God help me, I'm so confused!

Now I crave the numbness of the cursor.
Blinking, blinking

back

at

me.

For Crisis' Sake

Written by:bewilderness
Published on August 8th, 2011 @ 02:51:03 am , using 73 words, 1012 views
Posted in bewilderness

No more allusions
No more metaphors
Just straight talk, you
and me.

Its what I want but right away I'm falling into imagery
drowning in despair
suffocating in cliches.

My vision melts.
My eyelids droop.
My breath smells.
And suddenly I'm in over my head.

Its not just a good metaphor,
death.
Its a perfect one. But only a metaphor.

Leapfrogging from one half-remembered theory to another,
I'm trying to deciper my own demise.
I want to change myself and cannot.
I want to die and should not.
Not yet.

 

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