Maybe at one time I thought it would be cool to be this way–not for a long time, though, and now I can’t find a way to escape it. I could still write those poems of longing that occurred to me in seventh grade, just with a deeper sense of loneliness and grammatical maturity. I see everyone turned off by my quietness and timidity, the lack of “funness” in me, and I am afraid sometimes that taking pills or being electrocuted will just make me ok with hiding away. I don’t choose to stay alive just to do that. I want to spread love and make things for people. I want someone special to know these passions even though I have trouble unearthing them from beneath mental illness and lack of confidence.


3 thoughts on “

  1. MyHomeIsWriting

    I wish I had an answer for you, but I don’t believe the same thing works for everyone. For me it was finding people I could talk to, people who could make me laugh, people who could teach me new things every day we’re around one another–people who believed in me.

  2. doesitevenmatter3

    I agree with MyHomeIsWriting. I wish I had an answer…I wish could make things better for you. It seems all of us have to find what works for us.

    I am so fortunate to have a best friend who seems to understand me…and if he doesn’t always understand…he is at least kind enough to listen and not judge me. He encourages me. It helps me hang on.

    I hope and pray you hang on, too!

    I posted a youtube video on my site recently…a poem by one of my fav poets…Andrea Gibson…maybe her poems and her website might encourage you like it has encouraged me…



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