IB M

- hard to explain because it makes no sense... 

So disappointed with myself,

With how this part is not resolving,

How my weakness hinders control,

How I worry everyone who cares.

This kind of attention is unwanted,

It's horrifying and embarrassing.

I'd give anything to keep it secret,

But that's never the outcome of it.

To see how your face looks when

You see what I've managed to do,

It kills me,

It really does.

I know apologies won't change

Anything, what's done is done.

But I am truly sorry to put you

Through this, it's hard to explain.

Please believe me when I say

Hurting you isn't my intention.

Something's wrong with me,

I'm trying really hard to fix it.

And evidently, I'm not quite there yet...

In the space of a few hours,

my mind geared up to head

toward the destructive side

and imagine every possible

damage I can cause myself

I don't know why exhaustion

always leads me in this direction

it's like an automatic response

that always quickly overtakes me

and makes the danger get real

It scares me when I'm here

'cause I'm too aware it's a

moment's notice for things

to desintegrate, for control to

be lost, and for blood to spill

I don't know why my mind

reacts this way and slips into

it easily, craving and obsessing

over warped notions that lack any

sense, wanting to destroy myself

And the most disturbing of it

is the great sense of satisfaction

I feel watching blood come out 

And feeling the burn on the skin

It's just fucked up all the way

Whenever I feel this destructive

side come, it convinces me that

I'm defective in a way that can't

be fixed seeing as this is still around

when life is nothing as it used to be

I'll do my best to not succumb

but I'm not sure I'll be successful

I'm feeling very driven to feel it

and to see it, it's this satisfaction

that would make me feel better now

It's just fucked up all the way

And I'm so, so sorry...

- sorry... exhaustion is really getting to me...

Quite honestly,

The way I see it,

Death'll be a reward

It's the only sure thing

That'll be able to bring

An end and make it stop 

My endurance

Is getting weaker

So much pain

Life's without solutions

To ever make it happen

So all's left is only that

Hoping it'll come

Sooner than later

'Cause this is more

Than I can withstand

It's constant and only

Elevating in intensity

There's so much

A person can take

I so need a break

I've been so good

At making myself

Disappear that people

Naturally pay no mind

Or attention my way

For years, this was a

Method of protection

That was very good

But now, I no longer

Want it to be this way

And I haven't the slightest

Idea on how to change it

I remain unseen, alone, with

No attention my way even

Though I'm not hiding now

I'm as disappeared as

I've always been and

I think I'll never fix this

People just don't see me

I'm of no interest whatsoever

It was with me, part of me,

for such an extended period

of time in my life, it felt like

it's who I am, it's what life

is like, I knew nothing else.

Now that it's gone, it feels

like something is missing,

and the resulting emotions

are leaving me conflicted

and somewhat bemused.

That part was by any standard

truly horrible, so there's no

possibility that I'm missing it

being around, yet, something is

creating a void like an essential

part of me has vanished now.

It's a strange thing to be feeling,

considering its destructive nature,

it makes no sense to be missing it.

Wondering what's going on with that.

Are there modern-day geniuses?

Intellects such as the greats we

Still learn about centuries later?

Have we come up with great ideas,

Or have we reached a plateau only

Improving what already exists?

Who are our modern-day greats?

What out-of-this-world innovations

Have we achieved since the greats?

Seems like they're not around anymore

And the general discourse is so banal

Feels like brilliance's a thing of the past.

When I was a kid,

Mom used to take us

To band practices or

To her shows, and I

Loved it so very much.

So when Mme Martin

Asked us to write about

Something we did, I of

Course wrote about going

To the bar to watch mom.

The bar was called 

Le bar de l'Ô, and when

Mme Martin corrected

My assignment, she

Changed it to 'bord de l'eau'.

I guess a second-grader

Writing about a bar didn't

Register with her and she

Thought I meant we were

By the water, not at a bar.

But that was the place's name,

A bit of a play on words for

'Bord de l'eau', but I guess 

Mme Martin thought I was

Writing phonetically as kids do.

I didn't like corrections on

My assignments, and I knew

What I wrote wasn't wrong.

I remember the spelling on

The bar's sign, it stood out,

So I wrote it exactly how I saw it.

But I guess Mme Martin couldn't

Imagine such circumstances were

A possibility, too uncommon, I suppose.

But, yeah, by then, I'd been to many bars.

Mom was a singer / musician,

She'd take us with her when she performed.

se sentir délaissé

se sentir seul

des sentiments qui s'étirent

se sentir à la fin

se sentir que c'est le temps

une force ultra qui mène

se sentir vaincu

personne ne saura comprendre

le jour qu'ils feront face à la réalité

I've always found it peculiar

How people categorize pain,

Comparing theirs with mine,

And concluding mine's worse.

But the way I see it, pain feels

The same no matter what brings

It about, there're no distinctions

To be made about it, pain is pain.

I always find it very disturbing

How people dismiss theirs when

They find out about mine, as if

What they feel isn't legitimate,

Or isn't as severe in comparison ;

As if their feeling pain is misplaced

And completely unwarranted 'cause

No horror stories exist to back it up. 

But I completely disagree.

The fact it's there is the most

Relevant part, not how it got

There.  Pain is pain. Period.

Mine isn't worse than yours.

Please don't say that, makes me

Feel like you're tossing yourself

Aside as if you didn't matter...

How we got here doesn't figure in,

We all know how it feels is all.

It was nice to talk through things with you,

For the first time in my experiences, I felt you

Could not only listen, you actually understood

Everything I presented your way about my life.

Everything you ever said to me in our conversations

Was always thoughtful, and evidently intelligent, like

I'd never encountered before meeting you.  Not once

Did you ever give me platitudes as a response, and

Not once did I ever feel disrespected in any manner.

It was so impressive the way you summarized back

To me what I talked to you about, how you filled in what I

Didn't fully express in the exact words I was looking for...

You cared, and you actually understood what I was

Going through.  Talking with you was so interesting,

And it pushed my thoughts to consider further than

Its sphere and see where my troubles were in control.

You helped me pinpoint where the fights were coming

From, and how I adapted according to my experiences,

It made facing the fears less of an unknown

And allowed me to gain a way to manage them.

Sincerely, thank you for all of your help,

I will forever cherish our conversations.

And thank you for using your talent for being there

For others, our time together changed much for me.

I feel lucky to have had the chance to talk with you.