fatigue

i told you that i have been sleeping a lot lately,

you told me that you were jealous.

said that if you could sleep 22 hours a day, you would, too.

but you don’t understand

that i hate the way in which i operate.

so familiar with my bed,

as if it were another layer of my skin.

so used to my curtains being closed,

that the sun has become an abnormality.

i sleep around 18-22 hours a day.

i can’t wake myself up and keep myself awake

no matter how hard i try.

people suggest energy drinks

showering

vitamin B-12

something to keep me occupied-

but this,

is not normal.

this cannot be cured with your remedies

because i am quite literally a permanent part of my bed.

so can’t you just accept that you can’t help?

can’t you just leave me alone to avoid insulting me?

because trust me, you do not want this life.

sleep has robbed everything from me.

so don’t act like i am lucky,

because i dream of dying peacefully-

and that isn’t living,

it’s just cruelty.

ilc

20 questions

why am i so sad

why am i so afraid

why am i so sick

why am i so weak

why am i shaking

why am i hopeless

why am i me

why am i this

why do i do this

why do i know how long it takes to drown

why do i know how to sound the alarm

why do i know how much it takes

why do i know how to tie a noose

why can’t i be like everyone else

why can’t i be like every other brain

why can’t i just stop

why can’t i just let this go

why can’t i just not

why can’t i just go

why can’t i just leave

ilc

when the b*tch goes back into hiding

for 6 months I rocked

back and fourth

back and fourth

back and fourth

and I tapped

tapped

tapped

tapped

tapped

I repeated

7

17

okay

oh my

and no

without saying any other words

or formulating a sentence

for 6 months

my family tried to track down my voice

but no one could find it.

I have always thought that the reason behind my voice leaving

was because there was too much going on inside my mind

for my brain to handle-

so it simplified everything into 6 words

6 words

6 words that became the most effective safety mechanism

during the war between the brain and the blood.

this was home

because

something about

7

7

7

7

7

7

7

7

7

was so comforting against the chaotic waves in my mind

for 6 months

these 6 words

were my safety and my closest attempts to calm.

but

however

there did come a day

when the repetition and the simplification

were no longer needed

and my voice returned

planting flowers in my lungs

and laying poems on my tongue.

when my voice came back

everyone thought that I was back

too-

but I wasn’t completely back

my mind is still relearning how to walk along my broken road

so the bumps and bends come in waves

knocking me off course

and knocking me back on

but I can’t always guarantee a safe ride home

or even a return home

on this broken road;

so that’s what the challenge is now.

how do you tell someone that you are still suffering

when the only manifestation of struggle is within you

its not something that they can see anymore

it is hiding

its back into hiding

its back to playing the great game of hide and never seek

giving me the painful job

to convince you that as well as I seem

I am still breaking at my seams

I am weak

and you’re right,

my voice is back

and the shaking isn’t a scary thing anymore

but consider for a moment

the shaking inside my bones

and my mind

my heart

my stomach

my brain

my emotions

and me-

don’t you think that my body is still startled on the inside?

not completely still?

still trying to find perfect rhythm

still lost

still running

don’t you suppose that this is possible

and don’t you suppose that I am still

very exhausted

very scared

and very much the same illness you saw months ago?

it’s just that this is the part where you can’t see

all the anxiety that is relentlessly running marathons through me

you just see a very lazy

very absent

and very excuse filled girl

glued to her bed

and the feeling of the dark

but

she is still the host to a monster

she is still very sick

I am still fighting this monster

and I am still very ill

but need I repeat this again-

this is the great game of hide and never seek.

the doctor is looking through me saying

“the therapy is working

the medications are a match

and the progress is incredible,

I do not see any reason to further the investigation

of your daughter’s mind

because she looks great

she looks fine

she seems good

she acts okay

everything seems right

it all looks great.

see you in 3 months.”

doctor

doctor

doctor

please

please

please

don’t give up on me

it’s still here

its living inside of me

you just can’t see it anymore

are you listening to me?

you can’t see this anymore

I don’t know how you expect me to show you but I expect you to believe me

just like you did a year ago when I paced your office like the walking definition of anxiety

I told you

this is the great game of hide and never seek

no longer seek

not able to seek

you can’t seek

you can’t see

because

the monster is in hiding-

so I don’t know if 1 at morning and 1 at night

2 tomorrow and 2 tonight

maybe this time we will get it right-

I don’t know if that is working.

I don’t know

how your cocktail of candy pills

can drive a monster stuck like malice

outside of the home that it has made inside of me

don’t you need to scrape it out

don’t you need to excavate

don’t you need to cut me deep

to get this out of me?

oh

wait

silly me

you can’t see it

so to you this isn’t real

and I am just another statistic falling slowly from the sky onto the cold ground-

lifeless.

ilc

it isn't cute

I have to count my steps to stay on my feet

I have to hug you eight times so I know you’ll never leave

I have to check the doors

turn the nob three times to the right

now three times to the left

together now

we will count the knives

so that I don’t do something mad

and again we will lock each window

so that we are safe from everything bad

and don’t worry

I will get the oven

and the microwave

and the sink

and the other sink

and the other and the other and the other

and the candles

and the irons

and the fridge

and the door

and the car

and each one of their slowly moving chests-

I have to also count my breaths to assure that the next will come just like the first-

and all the ones that came before that one

and I know that this is something obvious that we both know

and that I already should for certain, because it is a given-

but you see

the calculator inside of my mind will not let me rest

unless

I do this right.

if I don’t follow through

I am punished.

thrown into the prison that is the walls of my brain itself-

you see,

my brain doesn’t know how to simply just be

without feeling the urge to do these things.

it tells itself that when these are complete

sweet rest will fall over me.

but how can I ever sleep peacefully

without counting the sheep

of eternity?

let me count the knives one more time

please

so I can tuck them sweetly

underneath the blanket of my skin tonight.

ilc

my ocd

the doctors have been discussing my ocd

they’ve been talking about taking it away-

about silencing it

about quieting it

about stopping it.

but the thing is,

you see,

they can’t take away my ocd.

my ocd is the language in which i opperate

the only way in which i know this world.

everything is a numerical pattern

everything is a color

everything is something

everything is my ocd.

and yes i will admit,

some days it does feel as if it’s killing me.

but i know that i need it

i know that without it i cannot survive

and without it i’m not me.

everything involves the ocd

and it never stops.

i breathe numerically

and if not,

it threatens me.

i have to do it right

i have to obey the ocd

or

it attacks

it attacks

it attacks.

and then

it may very well be-

the end of me.

and this is the painful story of me and my ocd.

heaven knows i wish i could find my way out. i wish it could stop. but it can’t, and i’ve tried. it cannot leave this body. it is the way i live. the way i stay alive. and i am forever it’s host- at least until the day that i die.

ilc

- stay awake with me

when the fear paralyzes me

I fall to my knees

and then to the ground

curled in a fetal position.

the anxiety invades my joints-

and I cannot move anymore.

I fall into a fitful sleep

and I do not wake up to sunshine

warming my skin

and radiating through my window.

during the day the monster wakes spontaneously

without warning-

eternally haunting me.

but when nighttime falls

and sleep is ready to sweep me off my feet

the darkness falls even harder

so I am wide awake

armed and ready

to face 12 grueling hours of grotesque fear and misconception

brought to me by my very own mind.

my shaking limbs

aching bones

and heavy trepidation resets

and the monster is here

alive and well-

again.

ilc