Tag Archives: depression


…that’s how I feel when someone gives me compliments and praises my abilities and achievements. I feel like a fraud, a pseudo, I don’t have so much belief in myself. I find that my capabilities are nothing to praise about. They are ordinary, common, anyone would be able to do them if they really want. I am not special, I am not unique. Most of the time I feel like a fake. What do you know, I can rhyme!  Even that is not noteworthy. Even children can do that. The easiest form of poetry I find. And haiku, they are easy to fabricate also. I’m sure you know the drill. What I’m talking about anyway. My life is the opposite of who and what I am. I’m masquerading through the days convincing myself that this is what I want even though my brain is shouting: “No, it’s not!” It’s for the best then I reason and on paper, and at first glance, it really is only it doesn’t feel that way and I find myself sinking deeper and deeper each day. Fading, till I am barely recognizable even to myself. Am I unhappy? What is that? First I have to know what happiness is before I can separate the two from each other. All I know is something doesn’t feel right. Like an itch that you cannot locate but it is definitely there somewhere and it’s driving you crazy. And there is this emptiness, a void that keeps getting bigger and bigger as the days, weeks, years pass by. My whole life is a fraud, not real, a fake, a pseudo of what I imagine or would like it to be. And I don’t know what to do to change that.



I feel like a fish out of water, a bird in the sea

But in the mirror is a girl who looks just like me

She goes through each day like she did before

Suddenly she just isn’t content anymore.


Each day is so fake, words are so hollow

She takes all this in, but it’s hard to swallow

Who is she, this girl that I see?

We look so alike, but how can this be?


I’m a horse in the city, a dog in a cage

A little girl in a body that’s three times my age

That’s not me in the mirror, no not at all

This girl hangs her head low, I held mine up tall.


How did I get so out of place

I want to look in the mirror and see my real face.

I want to hold my head high, I want to see;

There’s a girl looking back, but… she isn’t me.


(from a stranger I don’t recall the name)


The Year I Fell

I haven’t written anything for public reading in over a year.

I would be lying if I suggested that this jolting silence was for a good reason. It wasn’t.

The truth is that it’s been a hard year.

I’ve been everywhere within but nowhere without; I’ve changed my mind about things—big things—to the point of misunderstanding myself and my intentions; I’ve doubted everything I’ve ever known, and then what I thought I would learn instead, leaving myself doubled over with questions that I hoped would wring out the dark in me.

They didn’t. And believe me, they tried.

I often found myself wondering if I was a mistake—if my existence was entirely faulted from the start, designed for destruction and disappointment.

I wrote poems to myself drenched in blood red f*ck you’s and I wondered what I ever did to deserve such a cold sentiment.

Maybe it had something to do with the way I couldn’t find my purpose in this world or the way I lacked any sense of direction; maybe it was the embarrassment of failing over and over again, since it didn’t even feel like I tried; maybe I deserved the hatred I stitched into my flesh simply because I felt I had nothing to offer, nothing to give and nothing to show.

Maybe it was a little bit of everything that got the best of me. And maybe it all comes down to the fact that I am (and always have been) uncomfortably huge—in passion, in curiosity, in expression and in heart—and so I feared what I could become regardless of what I did or didn’t do.

Maybe that fear told me to run away, encouraging the vicious habit of becoming small enough to disappear.

But just when I thought I was doing a good job (of becoming nothing, that is), I found my edge and jumped. Every time, without fail, I jumped into the darkness before me, hit the jagged bottom of my own hell and exploded into a mess of everything I had ever wanted to be.

As it turns out, taking that same violent fall enough times taught me a thing or two.

Maybe I haven’t found exactly what makes me happy, but I’ve learned what happens when I try to pursue that which I wish made me happy, but doesn’t. And maybe I haven’t figured out exactly who I am, but I’ve learned exactly who I’m not—and who I should stop trying to be.

 I’ve also learned—rather, remembered—that I am not the only person who feels this way. I am not the only person who struggles along a path that doesn’t seem to exist most of the time. I am not the only person who’s ever hated herself for being so blatantly lost and sad.

And that’s precisely why this year(ish) of silence is coming to a close. It served its purpose and in a twisted and painful way, it did what it needed to do. But maybe asking it to stay any longer would undo the strides (okay, ridiculously tiny steps) I’ve made upon hitting that coldly dark bottom.

So here I am. It’s been a hard year.

But once again, I lived. And now, as I find myself begging for (and fortunately finding) gentle hands to guide me in emerging from this thing, I can’t help but think that there must be others out there who know that longing all too well—that desperate plea for someone to reach for them, to see them.

And maybe this will be their sign. Maybe this will be the first hand they grasp. Maybe this will let them know that they are seen, and that the climb is a tough one, but that they are ready to take it—one ridiculously tiny step at a time.

-Relephant: via Sara Rodriguez


Reverse Nightmare

Depression is such an overwhelming feeling. It’s bigger than anything. I’m terrified of it. What if I can never crawl back from that all-consuming aching chasm? I’m so scared of having to feel that horrible feeling that I do everything I can to avoid it. Distractions are amazing. Run away, go back to sleep, furtively bite nails, watch some mindless comedy, swim, read, walk, paint, write. Just don’t be alone with your thoughts. Until there’s no escape and you have to confront it.

– C. Milford


just another day in paradise

Every day it is always the same sad story.

  • No, there is no boogey guy hanging outside your bedroom door waiting for you to fall asleep so he can attack you when you are unaware and most vulnerable.
  • No, there is no Ju-On under your bed, in the closet or behind doors either.
  • No, it’s impossible for a dead body to end up in your tub and miraculously comes to life the moment you sit on the loo to pee.
  • No, ghost of dead mother cannot travel from one continent to the next to visit you and her corpse will not materialize in bed in one of the guest rooms.
  • No, Danny Glick is not hanging outside your bedroom window suspended in the air; he’s safely back in Salem’s Lot.
  • And oh, all that funny noises you are hearing… they are not arach-bots slowly climbing up inside the pipes on their way to your bedroom to smother you while you are sleeping. It’s just the radiators, the boiler, the stairs that is settling in because of the difference in temperature. Houses make noises, it’s perfectly normal.
  • The scratching sounds are birds feet on the rain gutter. And the knocking on the roof is another bird trying to crack a nut against the outside wall of the chimney.

It’s true. You have seen it yourself, didn’t you?

  • No, bad guys will not single out your house upon given times to do their unspeakable deeds simply because you live there all alone. They will not break in and override the alarm installation to torture you for fun simply because they can.
  • No, they will not jump over two set of fences to catch you by surprise while you are gardening and hurt you for no reason at all.
  • There is nobody in the garage either, or in the utility room, or in your dressing. And if the curtains are not drawn and you accidentally put on the lights inside… there is no psycho stalker watching your house monitoring your every move. Your house is supposed to be your haven.
  • You supposed to feel safe in there not outside in the streets or public places like you always wanted to believe. Stop it! Just stop it! For your own good please do. What will happen will happen anyway. No use worrying about it. You believe in destiny, don’t you? You know that life is pre-destined and there is nothing you can do about it. You will arrive at your destiny no matter what. You can detour, you can choose to do it the hard way or the easy way, but arrive there you will. So, why not just put your faith in God and enjoy the ride.

These things I keep telling myself every day. Sometimes it works, often times not…


Reply To Writing 101: Your Personality On The Page

To forever peace

At 10:00 o’clock yesterday evening, I was watching the movie ‘Tristan & Isolde’ when my gaze fell on a tiny split between the bricks just under the stairs. And I think to myself, wouldn’t it be nice if I could crawl in there, hide in the dark and simply disappear? Probably the right word is ‘evaporate’ for it is more appropriate to describe what I felt in that moment. I thought: if I stay in there long enough quietly without moving an inch, I could simply vanish. Or be like a piece of food or anything that could get rotten and turned into dust if left on its own for a long period of time.

But of course it doesn’t have to be that particular split between the bricks; it could be those tiny spaces also between the couch. Or simply orb like star-trek people do. But I don’t want to be beam-up to somewhere else; I simply want to vanish as if I have never existed. Or sleep a thousand years and wake up into a better world or do not wake-up at all.

I do not want to go to heaven or hell. Or have a place in paradise; (if I have, I will gladly give it to anybody) I simply want to…be gone. I keep saying to myself: ‘c’mon, pull yourself together, you can do it! You’ve done that for the last 30 years or so, you can do it now. Look at the sun, look around you…reasons enough to live. There are people who are in much worse situations than you are, consider yourself lucky and think about your kids…is that not reason enough? But I can’t. I cannot make myself believe that this life is worth living for.

Sure I’m luckier than some people. Yes, I pulled myself together all these years and I’m definitely thinking about the kids. (Am I not always thinking of them?) But I’m afraid things are finally catching up on me. I am living from borrowed times for a long period already, and my credit is long overdue. I passed my limit a long time ago; and yet I keep on going…ignoring all the signs, thinking maybe if I could stretch it some more I could reach there (where ever ‘there’ maybe) Now I’m tired. And I cannot ignore the signs no more. It’s time to rest. It’s time to crawl between those dark spaces; hide and finally dissolve into nothingness. To forever peace at last….


Missing Title

To love that kills

To loneliness forever

To sleepless nights

And unfulfilled desire

To seems perfect life

Cruel kindness and manipulation

Emotional blackmail

And the HELL of it all

Vodka is excellent

Substitute for pills

Tasteless and odourless

Go on with the charade

Ha! Ha!

I think I’m tipsy…


header image: kiara-rose


“Not until we are lost we begin to understand ourselves.”

(Henry David Thoreau)

Lately, I seem finding myself always on crossroads.

No doubt, at some point in my life like everyone else, I have been there at least couple of times. But I must have forgotten it or didn’t think much about the situation. When one is young(er) one doesn’t stop much on one’s track to contemplate about life in general. We just get up and dust ourselves after numerous falls and go on and on. It goes hand and hand with the feeling of being immortal when one thinks that time is on one’s side.

Ironically, we do realize that we are living on borrowed time when it’s almost too late. Only then we experience this kind of haste, wanting to cramp everything we want to do in so little time left. Most of them quite hard if not impossible with our newly acquired advanced state. Not Unlike when packing a suitcase and wanting to get all that extra stuff inside we even sit, stand jump on top of the valise just to be able to close and zip the damn thing.

There were so many things happened in my life. Most of them I am not able to place or digest yet. And there are still some sure changes yet to come which I am trying to be prepared while struggling to work with what is happening now. Lately, I am having difficulty dealing with uncertainty. I know, life is never certain and it never used to bother me before. In fact, I once view it as exciting. Easy to do when one has nothing to lose and everything to gain. But once you reached a certain point in your life when you value everything you work for and know for a fact that starting all over again is quite pointless because some constituents render that choice impossible, then fear sits in.

I’m good in talking to myself. Pep myself into all sorts of positive mind frames just to get by. I know what I can and what I want. Always been. But some choices I have made couple with natural elements of life (I wonder if they call it destiny or fate) put me in a situation I am not supposed to be right now. And that for the first time ever, I have difficulties dealing with.

All of my life I was busy surviving I never stop on my track to attend to my emotional needs. I never question the why; never blame anyone for whatever is happening. Never take time for self-pity or anger. I just go on and on and on to deal with what life decided to throw at me. Perhaps that was my saving grace, because I never been bitter or vindictive. And that is still what I am doing right now, surviving. But lately, I’m beginning to experience some kind of fatigue, both mentally and physically. I begin to question the whys and hows of everything. Suddenly, I don’t want to just go on anymore as before, I want to stop on my tracks and attend to my emotional physical and psychological needs first instead of dealing with practical problems like always.

I want to have (real) possibilities, not always having to choose between two evils, I want the chances I never had, I want better options, I want opportunities to be who and what I want to be in an environment best suited for my current needs. I want to put myself first above anyone and anything for once.

I want to spend whatever precious time I have left to do whatever pleases me and allow myself to think about my situation. I want to face the naked truth. The complete unembellished version I always trying to avoid for the fear of crumbling down. For once, I want to be weak. Admit that I can’t always talk myself into pretending I’m okay. Everything is okay, when they are not.

I want to feel secure with the knowledge that I can let go without causing the ship to sink, resulting in chaos that would resonate and affect my existence for years to come, whatever left of it. At this point in my life, I supposed to be secure, settled and resting, enjoying the fruit of my hard labor; but as it is… it feels (and it is) like starting over again with all the consequences of being a beginner at the starting point of this existence we all called life…


i’m an alien

Most days I’m confused and hysterical I can even hear my brain screaming inside my head though I try my best not to show it. People at work and in the streets probably think I’m a perfect picture of balance, peace, happiness and serenity while the truth is: in my current (self-appointed) alienated position I feel I’m becoming more alien than alienation itself…