Longing

Who am I?
I wouldn't know how to answer if I were asked.
What makes me me is all the pieces of everyone else.
Everyone I know and love, they make me who I am.
That's why this is so very difficult.
I'm away from you all.
Out of mind and out of sight.
Our lives are no longer intertwined..
And yet...
And yet you're still here.
You're still in this place called me.
I feel a yearning to go back because I've left most of me at home.
You, you, and you
You're all back where I belong.
My heart is with you,
My heart is you,
And it's unbearable to be without my heart.
The emptiness inside my chest does not subside.
I fill the hole moment by moment,
Taking pleasure in the newness I behold every day,
And yet it's not enough.
The relief is only temporary.
Nothing substantial enough to make me whole again.
I hear your calling but the connection is weak.
Oh how I wish to go back and see every face again.
Faces that are reflections of my own.
Faces that show my inner joy, grief, anxiety.
Faces that are me.

Who I Am

The suicidal silence is so alluring
pulling me from reality
tossing me into the deepness of my dreams
dark and deadly
but free from any confinement.

It's something so familiar
and I don't even realize it
as I'm lulled into familiar territory
and transformed into something which is terrifyingly beautiful.

I love this me,
the one with the tragic backdrop
of depression and all-consuming sadness
that's riddled with crimson blood
which stains all sharp metallic surfaces.

Through all the loneliness
and every wave of defeat and emptiness
it has been the constant on which I depend.

This is the me
and the only me I know
and I'm in love with it.

The dirtiness, the secrecy, and the creativity it has brought me.

I can never be saved from myself
only because I don't want to be
only because
well
because it is me.

I Feel This Again

What do you do with the brokenness that resides in your deepest corners. How do you stop the jagged edges of the mirror which reflected your innocence from ripping your innards. You try not to move. You try to keep very still so that maybe, just maybe, everything will settle. All the pieces will fall back into place and you'll regain what has been lost. You believe that if you do this, the hurt from all the cuts will slowly subside, scab over, and finally become forgotten. However, this is impossible. When you focus so hard on not moving, it makes you itch for the world. It makes your heart restless with wonder for the what ifs. You think to yourself, "I've sat still for long enough. My insides must be whole again. I've served my time and now I can experience all the beauty I've been missing." Then you take a leap. Or rather, a breath. You inhale with all your might, filling your lungs to the brim with the world that has passed you by in your stillness. And slowly, carefully, you let it out again. You get to the end of your exhale and every bit of the newness you just took in has escaped once more. That very second, that very moment when everything is once again mundane, the pain comes back like never before. You feel it first in your lungs, shredding their inner lining and tearing them open so that the blood flows throughout you. It bathes your stomach in it's liquid red fury, makes it crumple in upon itself with the weight of all your regrets, and shrivels it with the poison of hatred. And finally, your heart begins to weaken, slowing down its beat because there is no passion to keep it going. Everything has come back. Every hurt. Every longing. Every negative word. Every abusive intention targeted towards you. Every jealousy that makes your thoughts scream with anger. All of a sudden you begin to fall and spiral down towards that darkness that you promised yourself you would never ever reach for again. The weakness of your soul consumes you and your eyes close towards everything around you no matter what amazing sights you may behold. And the only thing you feel you can possibly do is resort back to that stillness to start the healing again. You convince yourself that it will work this time, all you have to do is try harder. So you go back to your corner, though your conscience is screaming for you to go fucking be what you really are, and you become that still being lingering in the shadows again. The one that no one notices. The one that bothers no one. The one that isn't really alive.

I can't.

I feel like I'll never amount to your family. I'll never be as important as them. It's selfish. I know it's fucking selfish. But fuck, I want your attention. We only have so much time in this world together. I don't have the luxury of knowing that you'll always be there like your family does. I'm always worried that you're going to leave me. Just disappear one day. I have my fucking ex to blame for that. I can't stand feeling second best. And that's how I feel right now. I feel as if I'm not important. I feel like you would choose family, games, or friends over me any day. Fuck. I just want to be number one in someone's life. You're number one in mine. I make sacrifices of hanging out with others for your sake. So that I'm there for you whenever you want me to be. But you just leave randomly. To go play games or doing something like watch your brother play games. Why do games seem to be so much more important than me? I just want to come back so that I'm actually in your life. Because I don't feel like I am right now. I just feel like I'm there because you have to have something that really loves you in your life. I say that out of anger and hurt and I don't really mean it. But fuck, I just fucking hurt so bad right now. It's a time when, back in the day, I would cut. Stupid, I know. But my emotions just are so huge. I can't control them. They take over and I can't get out of their grip. I just want to call you back and make you stay. But I know that would just hurt us as a couple. I hate this. I hate loving so much. All I do is get hurt. All I feel is hurt. Because I want you all. I'm so fucking possessive and jealous. I fucking hate myself for it. I just want to go away because I'm really no good for you. This is just going to continue and I'm either going to make you unhappy or make myself unhappy. I feel like I can never be happy with a guy because I'll always want more. This sucks because you're so very amazing and I'm never going to let you go. I'm confusing myself now. I shouldn't feel all of this. I should just be very happy because I'm with you.

I feel Stupid

I hate myself. I hate myself so much. I just want to hit myself and just take myself away from the people I love because I know that all I do is bother them, hurt them, and make them hate me. This life is stupid. Everything is stupid. Because of me. Fuck. I just want to vanish in my sleep. I just want to melt away from this world because I can't stand it. I can't stand the constant loneliness I feel. The constant sadness over every stupid little fucking thing. I pour my heart out and only so much comes back. I empty more than I am filled and it leaves this hole that I can't repair. I don't love myself and I don't know how I ever could. I don't deserve anyone else's love because of this. They say you can't love others if you can't love yourself...and I don't understand this. I don't love myself but there are others that I love with the greatest passion. Whatever. I'm just sick of the way I am. I want to change, but I don't know how.

First Full Day in Japan (Osaka)

I feel so lonely...and so different. I can't speak to anyone. I can't read the signs. Sometimes I don't even know how to work the toilet. I miss everything about America right now. I miss my friends, my boyfriend, my family, and everything else that I know and love. It's so hard being here and not knowing anything. It would be great if I had someone with me, being there for me and such. But such is not the case. I go from feeling great about being here, excited to see new things and learn Japanese, to feeling really upset, scared, and lonely. There are times when I cry and cry and then there are times when I feel great. I hate the ups and downs. I really hope this gets better because I don't think I could go ten months feeling the way I do right now.

Poetry Out Loud

Hate Poem

Julie Sheehan

I hate you truly. Truly I do.
Everything about me hates everything about you.
The flick of my wrist hates you.
The way I hold my pencil hates you.
The sound made by my tiniest bones were they trapped
     in the jaws of a moray eel hates you.
Each corpuscle singing in its capillary hates you.

Look out! Fore! I hate you.

The blue-green jewel of sock lint I’m digging
     from under my third toenail, left foot, hates you.
The history of this keychain hates you.
My sigh in the background as you explain relational databases
     hates you.
The goldfish of my genius hates you.
My aorta hates you. Also my ancestors.

A closed window is both a closed window and an obvious
     symbol of how I hate you.

My voice curt as a hairshirt: hate.
My hesitation when you invite me for a drive: hate.
My pleasant “good morning”: hate.
You know how when I’m sleepy I nuzzle my head
     under your arm? Hate.
The whites of my target-eyes articulate hate. My wit
     practices it.
My breasts relaxing in their holster from morning
     to night hate you.
Layers of hate, a parfait.
Hours after our latest row, brandishing the sharp glee of hate,
I dissect you cell by cell, so that I might hate each one
     individually and at leisure.
My lungs, duplicitous twins, expand with the utter validity
     of my hate, which can never have enough of you,
Breathlessly, like two idealists in a broken submarine.