combobulated

Just read an article that I so related with.

And I’m feeling sorry for this guy,

cuz he know exactly how shitty I have felt,

in exactly the same way I have felt.

All because of undeveloped coping skills.

Tragic to get this far in life without a clue.

and its funny, and I’m kind of giggling,

because there is hope.

And I was never alone, and there was someone else

out there making friends with my same demons.

I’m happy to know that I can be happy,

function like a normal person,

and keep my demons too.

I struggled so long thinking I had to give them up.

Because without them, who then would I be?

the voices in my head, berating and beating me.

Voices I’m familiar with.  Content with their cadence.

But I can learn to hear them, feel their vibration, remember them,

and focus on the things that make me happy all at the same time.

I can put that panic button high up on that shelf inside my brain.

I can keep it with me, but make it less handy.

I don’t have to be a monster and that’s a relief.

Because sometime I hate myself and I don’t know why.

since its always easier to bury hard feelings,

instead of holding these pieces to the sunlight,

and seeing and analyzing and revisiting them and gaining new perspective.

Do what you’ve always done and never question why.

Or sit with yourself in the silence of the early morning,

and have a look deep inside.  to that place before you learned to hide.

to before you learned the world was ugly.

take it out and look real close,

that is you, and you are lovely, and human, and never alone.

sometimes I remember this.  Every ten years or so.

so thank you, to the pitiful soul who sadly understands.

And for reminding me it doesn’t have to be this way.

 

 

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Author: doing2016

I started writing when I was very young. Then I was mortified on a bus full of people when one of my stories was read aloud. I lost my focus and quit. Now, I'm trying to find my voice and my ambition. I love to write, good or bad. So, I'm doing it here and now. Thank you.

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