first poem: i am tired

i am tired, i am dying.
no, but really what’s the difference,
between tiredness and death?
when it gets to your head,
and your entire being starts to feel,
like it’s crumbling.

i am tired,
and i can’t think straight.

i keep pushing myself,
to my absolute limits.
doing all of this stuff that i don’t feel like doing.
just to prove that i am worth something.
that i matter,
that i am capable of surpassing the labels,
that society has put upon me.

i tell myself to try harder,
work harder,
worry less,
try to bring out my very best.
“oh, come on!
maybe this time if you don’t give up,
you won’t have to start all over again.
just focus,
listen to me.
i have your best interest at heart.
i am you, am i not?”
but it never works,
because there’s always that little
sneaky voice,
at the very back of my head,
hissing at my ears:
“you will never succeed,
you are not smart enough,
witty enough,
pretty enough,
nor interesting enough,
you will always remain less than anything you ever thought you could be.”
and it kills me,
that voice.
how certain of its words it seems.
as if it knows my fate better than me.
i hate it,
but i can’t find a way to make myself not believe it.
i can hear it.
it’s there right now.
and it will always be.
accompanying me as i try to make it through,
what life has in store for me.

and still i try.

i try not to think of it much,
to make myself drown,
in a million other voices,
a symphony that can maybe be comforting.
just to forget about the little voice,
at the back of my head,
to distract myself from it for a little while.
i get out of my house,
every morning,
tired, yes,
but hopeful, nevertheless,
for a calm and peaceful day.
but then i lose myself among the chaos,
of girls and boys my age,
talking away,
laughing loudly,
grinning broadly,
living the best versions of themselves that they can be,
youthful, joyful, curious, thoughtful.
but as i watch them,
something within me clicks.
it brings me back,
to the very simple thought that,
i may never be like them again.
and i sink into myself,
as the same old agony,
takes over every part of me.
swallowing me,
digging its nails into my flesh,
and cracking up my bones.
the sudden realization that,
i can’t fit in,
no, god, i just can’t.
it’s not that i’m not trying,
if i wasn’t, you’d be able to tell,
wouldn’t you?
it’s just that,
i’m not like them, even if i tried,
to blend in, to push my own personality aside.
it just would never at all convincing,
the feeling of it never sinking.
as they laugh and continue their conversation,
i stand aside,
and fake a smile,
nod my head merrily in acceptance and agreement.
even though i might not all that much agree with what they’re
and i keep going through the day,
my mouth getting drier by the minute.
tears clawing at the back of my eyelids,
and i contain myself from spilling, just barely: “now is not the time, you knob head.
just man up for another extra minute,
you will soon be free.”
even though i know far too well,
that is a filthy rotten lie.
because, my ass,
the second i will walk into my house again,
and close the door of my room behind my back,
what freedom will I ever find there waiting for me?
and exactly what peace is there for me to feel?
i will sit in silence,
and the voice in my head will awaken.
i will worry,
i will cry,
i will feel like my inside have been shaken.
my heart forced out of my mouth and back down again,
my mind racing with pictures from my own fucked up imagination.
i will try to do something to release myself,
from myself.
because after all,
i am my worst enemy, fighting a never ending war underneath my blankets,
as i try to fall asleep.

i am tired,
and this is how i feel.


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