Mind Stuttering

It’s a race! A race! A very fast-paced trace in time, in between lines and oh my God I’m falling, I’m falling down the hole, I’m so lost and out of control, and I’m crying from my soul for help! Just help me God, I cannot do this,. I am losing what I have fought so fhard to get for myself I am trying to control evertinig i can i kkkkkkkkkkkkkk tkh thnen ev tin gh hshut down amnd i ‘m sllowly tryin g to pick up all the pieces of whwere I ‘m left off with kkkkkkkkk l  l l black black k ness it like

*actual blackness*

llik the slow thoughts are forcing their way in to m y hands wiht my keey board and i’m trying now tnot to make a amisktake lol i want to find my self in the words wf coin g cmon gcmoing coming aout of m y ahnds hands in to the fkey bpard and i’m just trying to let it go and left let mylef myeself tyupe aturally nuatrally withotsuwithouts hittings the bakcspakce key. I’m trying to demonstrate what my mind goes through when I’m under se extreme stress and become manic swwith sppshpsyhchotic features and also smoke marijuana. what a sweet litle mixups of flaveors of crazy! i’m really lloving all the red lines iunder all the misspelled words (notice how i didn’t misspell, misspell naturaly?hm,O ) also i almost forgot i have also i ha i also have ADD and am unmedicated for all of these things a tt  at the tm moment/. i though tt this would mbbe an inst intresteing intresetr interesting things to ep epxe exxpeirne experience and exxpre exxpeexperiem experiment with essepc j espcieal ees especially if i’m going to be study ing psychology and things of that nature. I’m also wondering if there’s a correlation between focus and talking aboiut things you nenjouy (i.e. – i canot can’t focus if i’m bored). i thnk if i have a reac recorsed records to study in the futire uinder norm al conditiosn conditionsm then i can go back and see a lot of things. it’s alsmo almost a good things thing that i have been a pharmaceutical guinea pig for more than half of my life and I ‘m online kkkkkkk onlin onlny lnlonly 25 yeasr old lol i can’t healp biut laugh at all th of all of this while i’t it’s going on becuase it s it almost remidns reminds me of one of my favoritses favorites book s called flowers for algernon , that was sucha  a good book. I read it oin in freshman or spsopphomor e hearyear in high school and it made me cry. ith there s there are so many other good book s I used to hh reja h readd in high school and I realt really  aw want to get abccb beack inb eba kj ehab back in ot into it,. this is sso soso in intersinterses interesting omg i real t reallyl am exxcited to learn something from this because it’ s so colo cool h i shoul d probably note some of my observations lol i sound like i am a f ucking doctor lmao i am gcracrakcreacking kkkkmyselkf up my heart jusst jumped through my fchest jesf jesu ss ff fc let’s  all have a conversationi witth os ehac each others aand  send it  all overa a the aowor wrol world sand and  we can comnunt comnunit commnunit commnuniihoh lol omg we can acommintu come commnunith lmo aoasdfkj omg i can’t do thei a yall know wha ti m ean mean lol we can comminu fuck it we co c we care we are c wegonn talk it out beuhi

I would not be aof offended if yout hou though t this is funny because i’m over here ctfu

Reality

She had a dream

she was stuck in her bed,

stuck in her head,

left for dead

so she spread out all her thoughts across this keyboard

hoping someone could find her in between these words

a little voice that wants to be heard

but is scared of not being afraid

because the mess she’s made has her doubting her sanity

and all of humanity is a mess

they tell her it’s stress

but she can’t stress enough

that this is more than life being rough

there’s a certain place where she’s been before

but where she’s headed is behind a locked door

one she’d never opened in fear of what’s ahead

in fear of being stuck in her head,

left for dead,

alone in her bed

and when she thought she’d woken up,

a soft voice said,

‘my darling, this isn’t a dream…’

 

 

 

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Fluid

A downward spiral

you took a trip to a bad neighborhood where you can’t turn around,

so you move in

and find comfort within city limits

you ignore the feeling of misery

you pretend you don’t deserve better,

just so you don’t feel bad for treating yourself so cruelly

 

when you walk into the city, you have no name

you are another face on a milk carton

one that everyone sees in a glance,

but no one remembers enough to care

 

you are lost

and no one wants to save you

because it’s too dangerous

and they all care more about themselves

in their cozy bungalows

with their fenced-in backyards

and wrap-around porches

 

you’re not like them anymore

you’re mentally fluid,

flowing faster than a river

drowning feelings

and resuscitating them just as quickly

in swift, fluid motions,

your graceful morbidity keeping you afloat

 

you’re just a girl

lost in a downward spiral.

 

 

 

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The Strangest Therapy

A strange change

has estranged me from the rest,

the best mess yet,

I put my feelings to the test

and guessed that I’d be left

with a set of regrets,

or blessed

with a handful of excuses,

a hallway full of nooses to hang my worries dry,

put them to bed

as they leave my empty head hollow,

it’s a hard pill to swallow

when you don’t follow through,

but what can you do

when your mind is unclothed

in an empty room,

when you thought you could trust

but you

spoke

too

soon.

 

 

 

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Hot, Hot Heat

I can’t help

but feel the squelching heat of defeat

I’m beat, life has won

I’m done with all the running away

praying for another day to save myself

when all I want is the peace beneath my eyelids

and they have no clue what I plan to do

behind closed doors.

Linoleum floors never felt colder underneath soft skin

I say it’s comfort but you call it a sin.

But who wins when you can’t find me in an abandoned bathroom

struggling to breathe beneath the heat of defeat

that did me in?

 

 

 

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Bitter

It’s a mad, mad world

and she’s a good little girl

but there are people who love

to screw it all up

’cause they know how to make a bad boy better

and a good girl bitter,

turn the hopeful to doubt

and the winner into a quitter

 

but one day it hit her,

she figured it out

she surely didn’t have to live her whole life in doubt

that it’s a mad, mad world

and that good little girl

grew up to be bitter

’cause she couldn’t be the winner

of love.

POST-TITLE

I wish I weren’t trapped in a bubble of self-hate,

stuck debating whether I’m evading or persuading myself

to be someone I ain’t.

I admire the girl I see through the glass

who’s going for it, not looking back

at all the shit she bit off before she could chew

the fact that she knew who she was all along.

What’s stronger than the power

behind her disguise are the lies

she told herself to compromise her demise

for the prize of being free, fleeing from the tree

with broken branches, entranced by second chances,

she glances at the reflection and sees a cosmic connection

of affection for what’s inside,

a pride of being alive and well,

with a pen and a paper

and a story to tell.

Apathy

Apathy

it’s a natural disaster and catastrophe

bleeding onto my sleeve like a loser’s trophy,

it soaks me and cloaks me in the bane of my existence,

and persistently opens my eyes in bed but leaves my head heavy as a rock,

the clock is ticking and I’m sticking to my guns,

just for fun I waste my time staring at the picture surrounding me,

this off-putting reality that captures me and won’t let go,

now, I know that this could all go wrong and I could end up where I don’t belong,

but I’ve never been so strong, although

it’s killing me, this apathy,

the lack of being interested in life,

blithe with how I’m dying,

denying the importance of trying

crying out for change

when I’m rich with despair

and maybe I don’t even care

about my

apathy.