I turn my tears into stones so they can hurt you too.
Might not break your bones, but the message'll get through.
Take a good hard look at what we've become.
The monsters are coming out, so you better run.
No future's set in stone...
any place could be your home...
wish the past was unknown...
so we won't know -
we're repeating disaster...
we're repeating disaster...
we're repeating disaster (disaster)...
no, we're repeating disaster...
Harsh lines set into your face.
Tell the time that the pain took place.
Hide all you want but you can't disguise your eyes... they're like an inkwell brimming over...
the story's told every night you sleep.
The poor souls just sit and weep and you... well you're a human too.
No future's set in stone...
any place could be your home...
wish the past was unknown...
so we won't know -
we're repeating disaster....
we're repeating disaster...
we're repeating disaster (disaster)...
oh no, we're repeating disaster...
Reappearing shadows with crooked aims,
haunting legends with peculiar names,
childhood memories based on broken games,
these same faces oh these same faces.
Invisible supporters hidden in the frames,
hateful people with ridiculous claims -
oh the damage they cause isn't it a shame,
these same faces, these dear old faces!
we're repeating disaster....
we're repeating disaster...
we're repeating disaster...
oh we're repeating repeating yes!
we're repeating disaster!
we're repeating disaster!
we should've run faster...
nooo, why are we repeating disaster..."
Showing posts with label pain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pain. Show all posts
Monday, December 26, 2011
Sunday, December 11, 2011
"When people don't express themselves, they die one piece at a time."
"When people don't express themselves, they die one piece at a time."
Teens commit suicide.
When you're a teen, you are supposed to be growing, trying to find yourself and who you are meant to be.
But when teens kill themselves before they even get a chance to see what they could have been... it just... ruins so much. Because they keep getting called out for trying to express themselves and find themselves, they push themselves so far away from everyone and everything else that... there's nothing left but their corpse... their body cold and empty.
I've been suicidal, and luckily it has not been because I've been bullied or because I'm gay... in fact being gay is one of the smaller reasons I don't like who I am. I'm mostly just afraid that the people I care about will be disappointed in me and drift away from me. People have distanced themselves from me because I needed to grow up or because I grew up to be someone they didn't like, and I really don't care much about the reasons why they stopped liking me - it just hurts that they did stop liking me. Best friends that I imagined having fun with for years to come stopped talking to me years ago, and it was never my decision to let that happen. It hurts when you can't control things.
I'm a little afraid that coming out to my family will be the final straw where they actually express their disappoint in my to my face. I know some of them don't agree with the things I've done or who I'm growing up to be, and in a way, I accept that because I don't plan on remaining very close to my family in the future. But still, the fact that someone you have grown so close to can just drop you from their heart like you were never meant to be there in the first place hurts so badly.
Right now, I really like this boy. And I know that as a teenager, I've had crushes come and go more often than I text, but he's different. I think he sort of ... initiated any flirting, and it's such a serious head game trying to figure out how he really feels about me. He's extremely weird, so I don't feel like the odd man out, he's a musician, he's an artist, and he's fun. Sometimes, I feel moments where a connection would be made if it were written that way in a story, but like I said, he's hard to figure out, so I can't figure out what he feels. And I like that - he keeps me guessing. As a girl who writes love stories, not knowing how my own is going to end up is a thrill. I can usually see how things might end up, and there's only been one instance where I was so naive and blinded by love that I couldn't see us heading for disaster. With this guy, I don't know what's going to happen, but even if it ends in heartbreak, I'd still be buzzing from the excitement of the few times we've spent together already.
But in liking him, I've realized something.
I haven't acted very much like myself around him, not because I felt like he would judge me, but because I've been too busy analyzing him, really. But if I am to be myself, how much of myself should I be? Not many people are accepting of gays, bisexuals, etc. Not many people are understanding of depressed people. I've been lucky to find some who are, but can I find any who would be willing to date a mess like me?
I didn't mean to make this personal, but if I kept writing about suicide, I was going to cry.
I'm still here. I like it here, being alive. I haven't known anyone who's committed suicide, and I hope I never do. It wouldn't make me stronger or weaker - it would make me scared that it could have been me giving up like that. I don't want to envision myself hanging from up high, or bleeding to death because I cut myself, or having my body mangled or torn apart by whatever gruesome end I thought would help. Because I know suicide doesn't solve anything. It doesn't solve any problems at all. It's like when I had a list of math problems to do, and no matter how hard I tried to work it out, no matter how many people I asked for help, I was still lost and confused, and I would leave the page blank. The problems were still there, and they still hurt me in the end, but the world would move on and those problems would be forgotten for me. My problems would just float around somewhere until they bothered someone else - they never go away for everyone.
Lately, I've been thinking about my brothers, and I've wanted to make some art piece with a message to them and anyone else who's misunderstood. My brothers express themselves, and even if they get into more dangerous and life-threatening situations than most people, I still think that they might outlive me soon. And I don't want that - I want to grow old with them.
When people don't express themselves, they die one piece at a time.
I'm tired of slowly dying. I want to express myself, one art piece at a time.
Teens commit suicide.
When you're a teen, you are supposed to be growing, trying to find yourself and who you are meant to be.
But when teens kill themselves before they even get a chance to see what they could have been... it just... ruins so much. Because they keep getting called out for trying to express themselves and find themselves, they push themselves so far away from everyone and everything else that... there's nothing left but their corpse... their body cold and empty.
I've been suicidal, and luckily it has not been because I've been bullied or because I'm gay... in fact being gay is one of the smaller reasons I don't like who I am. I'm mostly just afraid that the people I care about will be disappointed in me and drift away from me. People have distanced themselves from me because I needed to grow up or because I grew up to be someone they didn't like, and I really don't care much about the reasons why they stopped liking me - it just hurts that they did stop liking me. Best friends that I imagined having fun with for years to come stopped talking to me years ago, and it was never my decision to let that happen. It hurts when you can't control things.
I'm a little afraid that coming out to my family will be the final straw where they actually express their disappoint in my to my face. I know some of them don't agree with the things I've done or who I'm growing up to be, and in a way, I accept that because I don't plan on remaining very close to my family in the future. But still, the fact that someone you have grown so close to can just drop you from their heart like you were never meant to be there in the first place hurts so badly.
Right now, I really like this boy. And I know that as a teenager, I've had crushes come and go more often than I text, but he's different. I think he sort of ... initiated any flirting, and it's such a serious head game trying to figure out how he really feels about me. He's extremely weird, so I don't feel like the odd man out, he's a musician, he's an artist, and he's fun. Sometimes, I feel moments where a connection would be made if it were written that way in a story, but like I said, he's hard to figure out, so I can't figure out what he feels. And I like that - he keeps me guessing. As a girl who writes love stories, not knowing how my own is going to end up is a thrill. I can usually see how things might end up, and there's only been one instance where I was so naive and blinded by love that I couldn't see us heading for disaster. With this guy, I don't know what's going to happen, but even if it ends in heartbreak, I'd still be buzzing from the excitement of the few times we've spent together already.
But in liking him, I've realized something.
I haven't acted very much like myself around him, not because I felt like he would judge me, but because I've been too busy analyzing him, really. But if I am to be myself, how much of myself should I be? Not many people are accepting of gays, bisexuals, etc. Not many people are understanding of depressed people. I've been lucky to find some who are, but can I find any who would be willing to date a mess like me?
I didn't mean to make this personal, but if I kept writing about suicide, I was going to cry.
I'm still here. I like it here, being alive. I haven't known anyone who's committed suicide, and I hope I never do. It wouldn't make me stronger or weaker - it would make me scared that it could have been me giving up like that. I don't want to envision myself hanging from up high, or bleeding to death because I cut myself, or having my body mangled or torn apart by whatever gruesome end I thought would help. Because I know suicide doesn't solve anything. It doesn't solve any problems at all. It's like when I had a list of math problems to do, and no matter how hard I tried to work it out, no matter how many people I asked for help, I was still lost and confused, and I would leave the page blank. The problems were still there, and they still hurt me in the end, but the world would move on and those problems would be forgotten for me. My problems would just float around somewhere until they bothered someone else - they never go away for everyone.
Lately, I've been thinking about my brothers, and I've wanted to make some art piece with a message to them and anyone else who's misunderstood. My brothers express themselves, and even if they get into more dangerous and life-threatening situations than most people, I still think that they might outlive me soon. And I don't want that - I want to grow old with them.
When people don't express themselves, they die one piece at a time.
I'm tired of slowly dying. I want to express myself, one art piece at a time.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
A (Really) Good Cry
Even though I've been trying MAJORLY hard to get past my issues, there is one person in my life who can always smack me right back down.
My mother.
You know how there are those people in your life that you just can't ignore, no matter what you do? That's her. Even though I know she's not always right, she just finds a way to always make me feel wrong. I just can't be what she wants me to be. And I stopped trying to be what she wanted a long time ago - I just wanted to be myself, but I feel like I can't even do that right.
I almost gave up on life last Thursday night.
The stress of being me has been really weighing down on me, and my mom is not helping at all. She says I never talk to her, but that's because there is no talking to her: logic is no match for my mom. You will never be right, you will never be listened to. While I'm struggling to pass my three AP classes plus my other classes, my afterschool activities, my job, my self-esteem, my friends, my family, college applications, college scholarships, and the things that make me happy so I can keep the strength to handle all of this, she can just tear me down and make me feel worthless. I tried to explain to her that my grades weren't A's and B's right now because that's not how the grades work at the beginning of the year - if you miss one assignment or score low on a test/quiz at the beginning of the year, it really takes a toll on your grade because you don't have a lot of other assignments to balance out your grade, and I told her that's how it's always been with my grades every year and my friends agree. But that doesn't matter to her
"You can't get into U of I with grades like this, you can't get into Northwestern or even Chicago State or even community college with those grades!"
But mom...
I just...
And then she doesn't believe me when I say I'm stressed.
"What do you have to be stressed about?!"
EVERYTHING. I've been struggling since 6th grade with the problems in my life, and it's never "How can I help?" or "what's wrong?", it's always "you need to fix this". She doesn't tell me how, or what should change, she just looks at what I've done and tells me I'm wrong. Always wrong.
After my fight with her, I ran to my room and cried in the dark. She didn't even check on me, just went to cook food as if nothing happened. I called my friend Brandon and he got so worried about how I was speaking to him and how suicidal I sounded that I had him crying. But he really really helped me. I talked to him for a long time about everything that was bothering me, and he kept trying to make me happy. What resonated with me most was "You are good, you are really good." He just kept reminding me that I am strong and that I've gotten this far, and even though my mom is making things so much harder, I really only have to wait four months until I can move out and then I just have to wait until college.
That day, I realized how much my friends really cared about me. Sheridane gave me a shoulder to cry on when I had a panic attack during school, Rowan was forcing me into the counselor's office to talk and relax when school was almost over, and Brandon was there to talk me off the ledge when I just couldn't stand being at home. And of course I can't forget people like JoLynn who keep reminding me that the more I speak, the more help I will get.
In the end, after all the talking I did, after I listed every problem I had, got rid of the extra things that added to my stress like the school newspaper, and finally broke down to my raw emotions, the thing that I was most relieved about...
was that I was finally able to cry.
I have been searching for an outlet strong enough to handle my pain. Writing and talking help but it's not enough, I can't do self-harm, and I can't even get myself to cry more than like twice a year. But on Thursday, I got to cry three times that day. And it was the happiest experience of my life. Everything just felt so much better after that last cry.
I know I still have to deal with some stress. I still want my job because I have no reason to quit it, I need my friends to get me through it, I do need to open up to more people like the counselor, and college isn't as scary as some other things in my life. But if I keep pushing myself to the limit without tagging out every once in a while, I'm not going anywhere. I don't want to make anymore rash decisions like cutting off half my hair or considering going through with suicide, a thought I haven't had since 7th and 8th grade. I just want to let the worries roll off my back and keep trying because as far as I can tell, I haven't failed yet.
My mother.
You know how there are those people in your life that you just can't ignore, no matter what you do? That's her. Even though I know she's not always right, she just finds a way to always make me feel wrong. I just can't be what she wants me to be. And I stopped trying to be what she wanted a long time ago - I just wanted to be myself, but I feel like I can't even do that right.
I almost gave up on life last Thursday night.
The stress of being me has been really weighing down on me, and my mom is not helping at all. She says I never talk to her, but that's because there is no talking to her: logic is no match for my mom. You will never be right, you will never be listened to. While I'm struggling to pass my three AP classes plus my other classes, my afterschool activities, my job, my self-esteem, my friends, my family, college applications, college scholarships, and the things that make me happy so I can keep the strength to handle all of this, she can just tear me down and make me feel worthless. I tried to explain to her that my grades weren't A's and B's right now because that's not how the grades work at the beginning of the year - if you miss one assignment or score low on a test/quiz at the beginning of the year, it really takes a toll on your grade because you don't have a lot of other assignments to balance out your grade, and I told her that's how it's always been with my grades every year and my friends agree. But that doesn't matter to her
"You can't get into U of I with grades like this, you can't get into Northwestern or even Chicago State or even community college with those grades!"
But mom...
I just...
And then she doesn't believe me when I say I'm stressed.
"What do you have to be stressed about?!"
EVERYTHING. I've been struggling since 6th grade with the problems in my life, and it's never "How can I help?" or "what's wrong?", it's always "you need to fix this". She doesn't tell me how, or what should change, she just looks at what I've done and tells me I'm wrong. Always wrong.
After my fight with her, I ran to my room and cried in the dark. She didn't even check on me, just went to cook food as if nothing happened. I called my friend Brandon and he got so worried about how I was speaking to him and how suicidal I sounded that I had him crying. But he really really helped me. I talked to him for a long time about everything that was bothering me, and he kept trying to make me happy. What resonated with me most was "You are good, you are really good." He just kept reminding me that I am strong and that I've gotten this far, and even though my mom is making things so much harder, I really only have to wait four months until I can move out and then I just have to wait until college.
That day, I realized how much my friends really cared about me. Sheridane gave me a shoulder to cry on when I had a panic attack during school, Rowan was forcing me into the counselor's office to talk and relax when school was almost over, and Brandon was there to talk me off the ledge when I just couldn't stand being at home. And of course I can't forget people like JoLynn who keep reminding me that the more I speak, the more help I will get.
In the end, after all the talking I did, after I listed every problem I had, got rid of the extra things that added to my stress like the school newspaper, and finally broke down to my raw emotions, the thing that I was most relieved about...
was that I was finally able to cry.
I have been searching for an outlet strong enough to handle my pain. Writing and talking help but it's not enough, I can't do self-harm, and I can't even get myself to cry more than like twice a year. But on Thursday, I got to cry three times that day. And it was the happiest experience of my life. Everything just felt so much better after that last cry.
I know I still have to deal with some stress. I still want my job because I have no reason to quit it, I need my friends to get me through it, I do need to open up to more people like the counselor, and college isn't as scary as some other things in my life. But if I keep pushing myself to the limit without tagging out every once in a while, I'm not going anywhere. I don't want to make anymore rash decisions like cutting off half my hair or considering going through with suicide, a thought I haven't had since 7th and 8th grade. I just want to let the worries roll off my back and keep trying because as far as I can tell, I haven't failed yet.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Death By Auto
He almost killed us today. My brother, he attacked my mom while she was driving. We could have been in an accident so many times... the car swerved and jerked to sudden stops... and I couldn't do anything but watch as he hurt her and endangered us all. And for what? Who fucking knows. He's autistic, I know, it's not his fault.
But tonight, I wanted him to die.
It happens.
He's done it before, but it never had the effect on me that it did today.
Out of all my years, there have been rare moments where I saw my mother vulnerable, and that is when I know that we are headed for destruction.
I just want it to end, but I know that if it does, then my mom will have even more trouble trying to handle it all. I don't know if she's stronger than me, but I definitely get my determination from her.
I used to think that my life's purpose was to protect my brothers from ridicule and the dangers of the world.
Now I wonder if my purpose is to protect the world from my brothers.
And before you ask, I really don't think my life has a purpose other than to serve others. Even though I am terrible at it, I know that's what I'm here for.
So here I am tonight, still fearing death as always yet wishing for it to come. I don't want my life to end so soon, but isn't it better than the constant pain?
But tonight, I wanted him to die.
It happens.
He's done it before, but it never had the effect on me that it did today.
Out of all my years, there have been rare moments where I saw my mother vulnerable, and that is when I know that we are headed for destruction.
I just want it to end, but I know that if it does, then my mom will have even more trouble trying to handle it all. I don't know if she's stronger than me, but I definitely get my determination from her.
I used to think that my life's purpose was to protect my brothers from ridicule and the dangers of the world.
Now I wonder if my purpose is to protect the world from my brothers.
And before you ask, I really don't think my life has a purpose other than to serve others. Even though I am terrible at it, I know that's what I'm here for.
So here I am tonight, still fearing death as always yet wishing for it to come. I don't want my life to end so soon, but isn't it better than the constant pain?
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