UNTITLED

Telling lies,
not alibis;
slipping into submission.

Agonize,
and terrorize:
worsen the condition.

Dead inside,
empty eyed;
destroyed by disarray.

A bona fide,
pushed aside,
Psyche gone astray.

All bite, no bark; warnings are a waste.
Every night, in the dark; mornings are debased.

Arrows shot into a hardened heart
can still damage, scathe, and scrape;
just because it’s been turned to stone,
doesn’t mean the heart can escape.

Six Feet

I thought I was digging a tunnel,
I could’ve sworn I was starting to see the light.
But now I see what I’ve been digging;

Six feet wide and six feet deep,
just enough room for my body in a box.

I’ve been digging for so long,
You said you we’re helping me find the light,
And now I see it’s only me who’s been digging.

Six feet wide and six feet deep,
only enough room for one to lie down comfortably.

“When we’re done digging, I’ll walk with you towards the light.”
I believed we were in this together.
But you’re just here to do the pushing.

Six feet wide and six feet deep,
you’re just waiting to cover me up.

And now it’s time to push me,
cover me up with dirt.
Leave no room for air,
and don’t mark the ground.
Forget where you’ve left me,
forget where I’ve found my light.
It sure as hell wasn’t what I wanted,
but it’s time I put this digging to use.
No light at the end of a tunnel;
No freedom at the other end.
Just a silenced body and mind,
forgotten; covered with dirt;
Push  me hard enough so I go straight to the bottom.

Six feet wide and six feet deep,
lying at the bottom, it’s the last light I’ll see.
 

out of my mind

If happiness is a warm gun,

I’ll gladly take one in the head.

                You see, I’ve got this problem; it’s called a conscience. And it wouldn’t be such an issue if it weren’t so heavily comprised of everything this subliminal society is made of. If it would take a second to think before it makes me think, maybe we would find a middle ground. But we don’t.

                My conscience, the nasty little bastard that she is, has this amazing habit of just putting her two-cents in where it’s not needed (or wanted). If she would just shut up I could be happy. I could be excited. I could be something a lot more awesome than I am. But I’m not because my fucking conscience won’t shut the fuck up. She likes to fret over stupid things; “Ooh, are you sure you want to wear that?” and “I don’t know, what kind of person would that make you?” Shit like that. Shit that I, initially, don’t care about until she decides to say something about it. For once I would like to do what I’m going to enjoy, never mind if it’s instant or delayed enjoyment. I’ll make those choices for myself.

UGH.

I don’t know man, sometimes I just wish my conscience and I were not what I was made of. I am not my conscience. In fact, you are not your conscience.

…god damn it, I lost my train of thought.

Fuck.

Oh well, maybe I’ll just scan the black market for a frontal lobotomy. 

Everything is moving so much faster than usual. The past weekend feels like it was months ago, yesterday was last week, and an hour ago I could've sworn it was yesterday.

Where does the time go?

Aside from my acting final which I have to do tomorrow morning, this semester of school is over. Thank Lennon too! It was getting to that boring, monotonous point that it always gets to and I was skipping a lot of class.

(oops.)

But now that it's over I have a week and a half to do absolutely nothing! And by nothing I mean work and exist, but at the moment I'm tired and that sounds like a lot more than I would like to do for a week and a half. After that's over it's back to school for May Term! I'm actually genuinely excited for a May Term; I'm taking another religions course only this time it's the decalogue in film. It should be enjoyable!

And that's all.

I don't want to write about anything else.

Psychology broke up with me today.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am no longer pursuing a degree in psychology. Instead my studies will now focus on Creative Writing.

My initial reaction was a very bittersweet one; bitter because I was a little shocked that my career path changed in a matter of minutes. But then I thought about it a little more and realized just because I was studying psychology didn't mean I even had a career path.

So my next reaction was "sweet!" 

And there you have it; bittersweet.

Now, hours later, I can say that I feel completed liberated. I didn't think I was going to be okay with giving up on psychology but I don't really see it as "giving up". I've always said I'm not made for a professional lifestyle. Sure, I could still end up in that sort of setting, but at least now I don't have to. Now I can do what I've always wanted to do: WRITE.

And so I'm going to. In fact, my first move in this entire thing is a new blog. Unlike this blog, it will have a particular subject, and a very personal one at that. In the process of re-reading much of what I've written lately, I've noticed a common theme running through all of them; my borderline personality disorder. So, instead of using this blog to talk about that I'm going to use another one purely for my disorder. 

It's going to be honest, and raw, and probably very difficult for me to write but I feel as though someone needs to speak as part of the (not really there) BPD community.

You're only as miserable as you make the people around you.

And how!

You know, I really enjoy conducting silent social experiments. They really pass the time and humor me quite well.

In other news, there is no other news.

Whoever said no news is good news must have been talking about television, because I'm not sure "no news" is really all that good. I mean it hardly makes for news at all, really, and since no news really isn't news at all it's definitely not good at being "news". 

Yeah, wow.

Let me off the hook for that one.

I'm in a horrible mood.

But why don't we just blame that on my BPD?

-_-

Speaking of which, I've decided to take this BPD thing into my hands. That means noo therapy for me! Just mood swings and unhealthy habits and instability! Sounds like a grand time, doesn't it!?

Ha.

No seriously though, I'm done with therapy. I don't ever want to be told to settle, ever again. 

That was the last straw.

I'll deal with me since I'm beginning to think there isn't anyone else around who can.

It would be awesome to run away, if only for a little while; to be whisked away and taken far from everything and everyone around me.





I'm stuck inside my head.
Everything is better here.