#selfconfessions

Once again, another “My Battle” piece. I’m on a role this evening apparently, or it could just be my soul trying yet another method to reach me and show me how wounded I really am at the moment. Just like the previous 3 poems, this is yet another brutal, vulnerable, straight forward poem reflecting my current mental position. Although these words seem to be flowing out me this evening, they seem to still cut deeply when I read them written out in front of me. These poems are RAW emotion that I have not allowed myself to feel, in... clearly... too long... and now its breaking out of me in every direction, still screaming at me, that something, inside of me, is very much... in the wrong place and it seems to be getting continually more defeating...

I want to drown, Just to feel that air rush into my lungs as I finally reach the surface.

I want to leave all that I know, Just to have the freedom from my endless jail bars that surround me.

I want to run till my feet can no longer carry me, Just to attempt to escape this hell within me.

I want to disappear from even my own mind, Just to pretend for a moment, that i’m not completely lost inside this dark forest where I can see those red demon eyes shining back at me in every direction.

I want to cut out this over-sized broken heart, Just so that I don’t have to care where I land.

Why am I in the bathroom?

We have enough rooms. I should have a room to myself, except for the fact that grandpa has decided to live with us in this house too. I was the last one to return from university. As the loser, I alternately share rooms between my sisters. Whom I sleep with depends on several things.

Are we on talking terms?

Is she pissed off at the world?

Am I pissed off at the world?

Does she want to be alone?

Do I want to be alone?

Privacy?

I just read what I wrote and I feel lame. Children out there. People out there are barely surviving in the world with no food, water or shelter above their heads and here I am, with a full stomach and a roof over my head complaining about the fact that I don't have a room to myself. 

Putting these thoughts down places everything in perspective. I have 1 more week at home before I head back to university. 

As soon as the feeling of anonymity passes by, no longer do I immediately post what I write. Instead I stop, read and think to myself, "Do I want all the people who follow me knowing this about my life?" or more precisely, its the few individuals who know who I am and will be free to ask me more personal questions should they wish to about my life.