Can’t breathe
Haven’t been
Day to day
Coughing lungs
One gives up clogs up
In my face
Months
Months!
Dealt with it
Not dying
Not of this
sick mentally
sick emotionally
sick physically
Falling mind
Falling apart
Stress from outside
Body breaking
To nothing
I’ll be gone
Grains of sand.
©C.O’Connor, 2016
The things I want are not what you think I want. I do not want clothes, or shoes, or material things. What I hope for is a state of mind.
I want to wake up excited for the day, every day. I do not only want to look forward to the special days when something new is planned.
I want to live without stressing about schedules: work schedules, sleep schedules, no schedules. Except for the ones I create. No life except the life I choose.
I want to be adventurous without worrying about the things that I should be doing.
I want to be reckless without worrying about my reputation.
I want to stay up and sleep late without knowing that the next day will be a waste because of it.
I want to have a job that doesn’t exhaust me so much that by the time I get home I have nothing left in me other than the ability to get ready for the next day.
I want to go outside and see the sun without glass in between.
I want to be happy.
I want to care about things that I care about because I care about them, and not because I’m supposed to according to someone else.
I want to look forward to tomorrow because I am excited about each second.
I want to want to live every moment to its fullest, and not see each day as something standing in my way. One more day on the count down to something.
I want more from life than this.
So stop telling me that I want I want I want, because I have studied, and I have worked, and I have tried this current lifestyle to my best ability. Now I think I deserve, but that doesn’t mean that I will stop working. I only want to work for something that I actually want instead of what I’ve been forced into caring about.
©C.O’Connor, 2016
I’m not the hero. I don’t think I am the villain. Hell, I’m pretty positive that were my life made into a movie I wouldn’t even be the main character. I’d be that random person standing in the background. Everyone around me would have reactions on their faces to whatever is going on. I wouldn’t. My face would be blank. My face is always, and has always, been blank. I’ve heard about it since I was a kid.
One of my earlier memories goes to a time when I was in second or third grade. It was the end of the school day with the excitement of freedom coursing through the student body. I was leaning against the wall in the middle of my class’ line. I think it was the summer, close to the end of the school year. (I have no idea why, and I’m probably lying. It just feels right.)
I can see a blob of colors from kid’s clothes across the hall. I can hear the high pitched thrum of children’s voices overlapping. I don’t remember what I was doing in line, or whether or not I was talking to someone. I do remember the teacher I had in the first grade walking up to me. I do remember her telling me to smile. I do not remember my answer, but I kept thinking, why is she asking me? I wasn’t the only one not smiling. I wasn’t the only kid not looking happy.
So why did she ask me? Why single me out? I didn’t understand then. It took me years to hear the saving phrase that would explain the countless comments I’ve received throughout my life. It explained all of the looks, all of the are you okays?, the you look like you’re about to kill sombodys, and the are you depresseds?
The phrase is Resting Bitch Face. I don’t know when I first heard it, but it has become a part of my life, my daily life. No I’m not depressed, at least not at this moment in my life. No I’m not going to kill someone. I don’t want to go to jail. And don’t even get me started on whether or not I’m okay.
©C. O’Connor, 2016
My watch stopped. The world stopped. In that space on my wrist time no longer exists. It does not move forward or back. It is still. Life is still. At 10:37 on the 23rd. If it is morning or night I do not know. If it is Summer or Winter I do not know.
It does not matter. Times does not have to matter. We make it matter. We create the rush or lag. Maybe we should take out all of the batteries.
©C. O’Connor
The notes were from a good night. An entire pile of memories from an amazing summer. A summer that ended so abruptly. The notes and pieces of flower decorations became the memories of the disaster. They now carried with them thoughts of thrashing, screaming, and glass shattering. They now represent what had been lost. What I once had. They remind me of the betrayal. They remind me of the people who said they would be there forever. But their idea of forever stopped when the first thin went wrong. The notes remind me of friends who weren’t friends and warm summer nights.
I try to focus on the good now.
©C. O’Connor
My hands are shaking today. I hate the shaking. It’s like the set up to the downfall of my mind. The doors are rattling and everyone is screaming. The hinges have loosened and the cages holding in my demons aren’t as strong as they used to be.
My fucking demons are screaming at me.
They hate me. They’ll ruin me if given the chance.
But sometimes I wonder what would happen if I let them out. Would they really ruin my life or show me the life I could have? Could live? Should be living?
A little chaos could be good for the soul.
The bottles that hold my emotions are breaking. They’ve been packed in too tight. It looks like a mess in there. Be careful of the broken glass!
I’m losing myself! OR Am I finding myself?
Was there really every anything worth saving? Is there anything left worth salvaging? I think my demons are laughing at me now. They know I’m losing it. That small bit of control I still had. Why am I so afraid of losing something I was never proud of to begin with? Was I ever proud of myself?
Rarely… only when I let the demons out.
©C. O’Connor 2016
starting on a new line
in a blank space
no transition
no middle
old new
nothing in between
that is how it works
what goes down in between
forgotten
only the highlights survive
I am now who I am
how did I get here?
Forgotten.
©C.O’Connor 2016
I wasn’t flying I was falling
but suspended in air
I was hurt I was crying
I needed you there
you were gone
you were missing
you ran away
and now I’m left and I’m lonely
it’s just another day
A day in my life
come on and walk in my shoes
A day in my hell
singing the blues
a lost kid a found soul
reckless to a fault
Get to know who I am
just leave me to fall
Not fly
suspended in air.
© O’Connor, 2016
Help me down
I’ve been up here for so long
I can’t see my feet way down under me
Where did the world go?
Where did the ground go?
Help my down.
I don’t want to be up here anymore.
I want out
I want my feet back
I want the street back
I wanted to be up here
I wanted to see the view
Didn’t know it meant losing myself
losing you
I didn’t know
Help me down from this heavenly looking hell
Help me down.
©O’Connor, 2016
There are too many thoughts moving too fast for my hand to catch on.
My train of thought is out of control. Everything is out of control …
and that’s just the way I like it.
©C. O’Connor, 2016
The ramblings of a procrastinating individual.
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