gfhgfyj
When I went into therapy I thought
it was somehow magically going to
get rid of the parts of myself that
were literally driving me crazy.
Insurance allows you 6 months of
therapy, apparently after 6 months
if yr not cured there is no hope.
It’s now been 3 months in therapy
and on Zoloft and I am still no
different.
I’m sad because I’m realizing that
no matter how much I talk it out
or drown myself in Zoloft and Xanax,
I’m still the same person. The
jealousy, the manias, the depression,
the confusion is all me and I cannot
get rid of it. You can never get
away from yrself and now I believe
that you cannot change the deep dark
things about you. I just have to
hide them as best I can.
=================
My mother remembers things the
way she wants to, which means
it isn’t really the truth.
I remember it all. Every insult,
every midnight trip to her lover’s
house. I will not forget just
because now she is better and
has rewritten the past in her head.
But she doesn’t know this, I
don’t dispute her anymore. She
believes it all and no one can
tell her any different.
“yr making me sound like I
was a bad mother.”
So I let her believe what she
wants for her self esteem. But
that changes nothing to me.
=================
My allergies are making me unhappy.
Sniffling, sneezing, in class. Blowing
my nose in front of 30 people is
a nightmare that I relive everyday.
I dream of cutting off my nose,
like I used to, but now I dream of
it for comfort, not for a smaller nose.
If I had a surgical knife I bet I
wouldn’t even feel it. I wonder
if I would have to breathe through
my mouth. Or if there would be 2
small holes in my face to let air in.
================
I’m constantly trying to find a
balance between serious and carefree.
I believe I am still trying to find
my true identity, even though
sometimes I believe I’ve found it.
I know that at 18 yr not set in
stone and maybe never will be.
But I’m sick of this confusion. I
like to play games, pretend to be
more than I am. Sometimes more
serious, sometimes more playful and
crazy. I blame it on the bipolar
and never knowing my true self
because it changes all the time.
Just as I’m getting used to myself
I change without warning. This is
beyond my control.
==========
My brain is a brick wall
I show up for 7 hours *smile*
For 6 hours and 45 minutes
I give you myself
But I won’t let you teach me.
To keep myself I can’t let you in
Yr words, sentences, contradictions.
I can’t be me, but I can be
What you tell me to be,
what you mold me into.
All these questions can’t be answered
With “because I said so” “because
they said so” “because my history
book said so”
If we don’t tell the real truth,
nothing but the truth, who will?
Will our history die? And the nice
one, the one like yr highschool
yearbook, the one so fabricated
with lies, the way they wish it
had happened, will survive?
=============
The girls who break out into song
And you wonder what they have to
be so happy about?
Maybe they woke up on the other side of the bed
in another house, in another life.
=============
I’m exposed to so many images
That’s all I can see anymore.
No thoughts are my own
Because even if I thought something
That belonged to me
Years ago, maybe a hundred years ago
Someone already thought it
It’s no longer original
And that idea no longer belongs…to me
So I have to tell it my own way,
The situation isn’t new
But it’s new to me and no one knows
What it’s like to be me.
So all I have is myself
My experience, my feelings
And my own way to interpret it.
it was somehow magically going to
get rid of the parts of myself that
were literally driving me crazy.
Insurance allows you 6 months of
therapy, apparently after 6 months
if yr not cured there is no hope.
It’s now been 3 months in therapy
and on Zoloft and I am still no
different.
I’m sad because I’m realizing that
no matter how much I talk it out
or drown myself in Zoloft and Xanax,
I’m still the same person. The
jealousy, the manias, the depression,
the confusion is all me and I cannot
get rid of it. You can never get
away from yrself and now I believe
that you cannot change the deep dark
things about you. I just have to
hide them as best I can.
=================
My mother remembers things the
way she wants to, which means
it isn’t really the truth.
I remember it all. Every insult,
every midnight trip to her lover’s
house. I will not forget just
because now she is better and
has rewritten the past in her head.
But she doesn’t know this, I
don’t dispute her anymore. She
believes it all and no one can
tell her any different.
“yr making me sound like I
was a bad mother.”
So I let her believe what she
wants for her self esteem. But
that changes nothing to me.
=================
My allergies are making me unhappy.
Sniffling, sneezing, in class. Blowing
my nose in front of 30 people is
a nightmare that I relive everyday.
I dream of cutting off my nose,
like I used to, but now I dream of
it for comfort, not for a smaller nose.
If I had a surgical knife I bet I
wouldn’t even feel it. I wonder
if I would have to breathe through
my mouth. Or if there would be 2
small holes in my face to let air in.
================
I’m constantly trying to find a
balance between serious and carefree.
I believe I am still trying to find
my true identity, even though
sometimes I believe I’ve found it.
I know that at 18 yr not set in
stone and maybe never will be.
But I’m sick of this confusion. I
like to play games, pretend to be
more than I am. Sometimes more
serious, sometimes more playful and
crazy. I blame it on the bipolar
and never knowing my true self
because it changes all the time.
Just as I’m getting used to myself
I change without warning. This is
beyond my control.
==========
My brain is a brick wall
I show up for 7 hours *smile*
For 6 hours and 45 minutes
I give you myself
But I won’t let you teach me.
To keep myself I can’t let you in
Yr words, sentences, contradictions.
I can’t be me, but I can be
What you tell me to be,
what you mold me into.
All these questions can’t be answered
With “because I said so” “because
they said so” “because my history
book said so”
If we don’t tell the real truth,
nothing but the truth, who will?
Will our history die? And the nice
one, the one like yr highschool
yearbook, the one so fabricated
with lies, the way they wish it
had happened, will survive?
=============
The girls who break out into song
And you wonder what they have to
be so happy about?
Maybe they woke up on the other side of the bed
in another house, in another life.
=============
I’m exposed to so many images
That’s all I can see anymore.
No thoughts are my own
Because even if I thought something
That belonged to me
Years ago, maybe a hundred years ago
Someone already thought it
It’s no longer original
And that idea no longer belongs…to me
So I have to tell it my own way,
The situation isn’t new
But it’s new to me and no one knows
What it’s like to be me.
So all I have is myself
My experience, my feelings
And my own way to interpret it.