Starlightembers's blog

The contents of this poem could be considered disturbing by some and may trigger certain people. It was written last month to capture the state of mind I was/am currently in, which is obviously tainted by a long list of things (depression, psychosis, anxiety, etc). Please realize that I am getting help and plan to inform my psychiatrist of this poem. Hopefully, I'll find a reason to live by the date mentioned. I have hope that I will.

Comments are welcome.

With Love,
Erika

(poem in full view)

Happiness cannot be trusted –
it never lasts, no matter
how good things are
around me or how
they feel inside.

In fact, the more I soar,
the more likely it is
I will fall - crashing
headfirst towards the
ground, cracking
bones and shattering
hopes.

The crashes hold me
in long quilts of
sorrow and despair,
wrapping a rope around
my throat and
whispering how peaceful
death would be.
How I should try it
out someday.

Right now, I
am stuck on the
ground, staring back up
towards the clouds.
Just yesterday, I
flew up there,
feeling euphoric.
I had never felt that
happy before,
but I know I will again.

Until then, I must brave
the storm.
It is not that bad
and I will be OK.
If only for a moment,
until the next
whirlwind hits.

This is a song I wrote about living with an unstable, neurotic, mentally ill mother. While my situation is certainly better than a lot of others, it still has its really tough moments that can be hard to handle. This is a few years old now, but it still represents the situation well. I wanted to share it with all of you. Please enjoy and comment.

Note: To those who live in a similar situation, my heart goes out to you. We can make it through if we stay together.

Thank you,
Erika

Wandering alone through the thickest of forests,

I've noticed that your soul got detached from the rest.

Expressionless eyes and a voice full of sorrow,

it's hard not to notice that you're quite depressed.

A love for yourself ran far in the distance,

and now you ignore what's left of the rest.



It's been years since I saw you live outside your room,

four walls surrounding the rubble of your thoughts.

Every hour that passes, I watch as things get harder to express.

For it seems your heart has been locked in a box, and the keys have been lost.



You're a shell of your old self, and I miss that shoulder I could always cry on.

Like the time I fell down, and hit the concrete ground.

All my friends ran, but you were reaching out your hand.

Without a single remark, that heart in your chest picked me back up again.

Now I walk on my own, but I will not forget that you taught me how.



I miss you, old friend

This world seems boring now that you're snoring

I miss you without an end

Your absent presence has left a scar on my heart



It's been years since I saw you live outside your room,

four walls surrounding the rubble of your thoughts.

Every hour that passes, I watch as things get harder to express.

For it seems your heart has been locked in a box, and the keys have been lost.



Listen to my singing, and look at out the window.

The sun is rising high, and light tries to get inside.

Open up your heart, and stop hiding behind closed blinds.

It's time to stop resisting, and just start living.

Say goodbye to pain, and wave a hi to new beginnings.

Step outside, because the world's been waiting.



It's been years since I saw you live outside your room,

four walls surrounding the rubble of your thoughts.

Every hour that passes, I watch as things get harder to express.

For it seems your heart has been locked in a box, but now it's time to unlock

"I am going to kill myself."

It was June of 2008 and those words had formed the only thought that went through my head. They greeted me every afternoon when I opened my eyes and stayed with me until I closed them again an hour later. My lack of energy, inability to drag myself out of bed and the black hole of depression giving it the fuel it needed to continue. No longer was it a matter of thinking about ending my life; instead, it was now just figuring out the how, when and where. I had nothing to hope for, anyways, my mind bitterly reminded me.


Barely a week of spending 99% of my time in bed - the other 1% spent in the bathroom excreting and forcing myself to throw up - had gone by when I developed a suicide plan. While I won't get into details, it involved a knife, wrists, pills and a window. It seemed to be the only logical solution at that moment: my future seemed too far away to reach, my past didn't matter anymore and the present felt unbearable. What else was I supposed to do other than end my pain? Or, at least, that's how my depressed and hazy mind thought then.


I was all ready to go through with things when my friend called. She said that she wanted me to sleep over. To be honest, I didn't want to go. My energy level was too low to get out of bed, never mind have fun with another person. Then I reminded myself what I was going to do and how this would be a great way to say goodbye. Thinking that all this pain was going to end soon gave me a small energy boost and so I agreed to go. Little did I know then that when I came back my world would be changed completely.

There's laughter in the air

and a grin stretched upon my head.

A roof sits above me constantly

and gifts are scattered all across the floor.

The clothes I'm in are comfortable,

and bought with all their tags attached.

My friends give their compliments

and listen when I have to yell.

I don't have terminal cancer

nor have I ever broken a bone.

You'd think considering all of this,

I would be chipper and carefree.

Yet everyday when I awake,

the only thing I feel is dead.



The image posted with this blog was created by me in Photoshop CS.

The photo of the girl was taken by Derrick on Flickr.

The photo of the gravestones was taken by Hugovk on Flickr.

The photo of the clouds was taken by Taivasalla.

The photo of the lightning was taken by phatman.

Looking around me,

I feel stuck in a dream.

Faces, places, and all the things that I see,

not one of them seems real.

I float around in my own head

withdrawing for hours to the comfort of bed.

or walking endlessly without a bit of direction.

Hitting hard against each wall that I pass,

in hopes of feeling that I exist.

My words are emotionless

coming off flat.

I laugh for no obvious reason

while staring at an empty wall

completely lacking simple expression.

I can't hold a conversation,

socialize or smile,

without my paranoia kicking in.

Causing me to cry at every twig

that snaps to bits.

I feel reality slipping far from my grasp.

Throwing me into a world of murders

and nightmares that never stop.

There's no going back.

Demons turn the Earth a shivering cold,

shadows follow me with every step that I take,

souls are trapped to wander forever,

and a ghost is out to put an end to my living.

One day I'll be permanently,

dragged down into their Hell.

Forced to wander hopelessly

for all of an eternity.

Until then I'll just yell to the air,

begging whoever hears to get me out of this shell.

Because my internal storm

is worse than their world could ever be.

The image posted with this blog entry was created by me in Photoshop CS.

The background photo was taken by anguila40 / Alejandro Groenewold on Flickr. It is titled The Bird.

The photo of the girl on the stairs was taken by Stitch. It is titled Alone Again.