Different

Am I arrogant in my confidence
That different rules apply to me,
That I am not what is presumed
(Though I’ve proven I may be)?

Am I wrong to look at others
And see them for what they’re worth,
And know that it is greater than
The profit of my birth?

Powerless

I’ve watched the oceans ebb and flow
And greet the sand without my leave
I’ve watched the stormwinds tease me so
And reveal the air in cardless sleeves

I’ve waited for the green to fall
And laugh my grasp into a miss
Until they become not leaves at all
But symbols of me, powerless.

Windows

How can I explain
That all that came so easy
Everything that should be
Came to be so hard
I know the fault is mine
As if that should make it fine
As if acknowledgement can make a problem disappear
But no, it never does
And no solutions light like doves
On the edges of the windows which I never seem to open
Yet always go to as a token
Of all the things I hope and fear.

Lessons

I had no reason I could give you
For why I wait upon this shelf
But I think the reason it comes down to
Is that I hate myself

I’ve had years to listen
To the opinions of those dear
And what I’ve learned is mine don’t matter
And that mistakes are things to fear

Now they try to stoke my confidence
But I just don’t believe
I am everything they’ve hated
And nothing that they need

Oaken

My life is a chain of promises broken
And of the ones that I kept, I gave no sign or token
So as I think of the tree and the silence unbroken
I’m expecting to hear, “Your heart must be oaken…”

Don’t Walk, Don’t Run…

“Wicked girl, never waking well;
If you sleep life away, it will always be hell.”
“Stupid girl, never thinking well;
When you make a mistake, it’s not worth it to tell.”

Don’t walk, don’t run
Don’t lay in the sun
Don’t stare at the moon
It’s all gone too soon
You’ll make a mistake
Best not to wake
You’re wrong either way
So what can you say?

Letter Without Address

Eliza wrote about how she has a dream of having a collection of letters from a bunch of different people, sort of open letters to anyone who might be struggling with suicidal thoughts. Letters without address, meant for anyone who needs them. I don’t know if this qualifies — I’m definitely no Eliza — but…

***

To whoever you are, whatever you’ve done:

I dance with fire. I dance, and everyone around me burns trying to drag me away from the flame. No matter how cold they get, or how many buckets of water they try to bring, often it just makes the flame seem warmer, that much more enticing. The more they try, the more of a failure I realize that I am. And I can’t escape the fact that if I just stepped into the fire, then they wouldn’t be rushing to and fro, worrying. I can’t help but wonder if all I am is a burden… Or maybe even a monster. I don’t know about you, but as for me, I’ve gotten very good at using people. I’m not good at much else; but you don’t have to be if you know the right things to say.

It scares me sometimes. And at every encouragement, every eager entreaty, every assurance that yes, I am worth it — at every one, I wonder. Do they know? Can they? If they can’t see the monster inside, the pathetic little beast that I am, how can they pass any kind of fair judgement? And often, I’ll smile at the well wishes, shake my head, and then stash them away in that deep, deep place in my heart where bright things still dare to live, but so rarely dare to come out. I think a part of me is hoping that if I save up enough of those, I’ll be able to afford a highway between that bright place, and the world outside.

Maybe whoever’s reading this can beat me to it. Whatever kindness I have, is yours. Death is always there. Life? Not so much. Give Life a chance to prove you wrong. Give others a chance to make their own choices — yes, even about you and your worth. If they hate you, let them hate you. If they love you, let them love you. And if you’re completely alone, then forget about yourself for a moment; Be for someone else what you always wished someone could be for you.

And maybe, embrace a platitude or two.

Good luck