The hardest part of my life is seeing people around me constantly having the world move to benefit them. It doesn't matter if they work hard or not at all, all the pieces of the puzzle seems to slip effortlessly into place and their lives improve while mine continues to deteriorate. I've had fantastic ideas… Continue reading Nothing
I want to die. I'm so tired of struggling, so tired of fighting, so tired of it being insinuated that my life is meaningless because I'm not good enough at being a minority. Yesterday was supposed to be a good day. It was supposed to be the beginning of the process to start my chest… Continue reading Suicidal Idealations
Why did you come to New York just to be homeless? This really should have been the first clue that the people who are supposed to help people like those in my family didn’t want to waste their time on someone like us. It’s the same everywhere you go though I suppose, especially now with… Continue reading Outsider
He begged for help in the darkness and despair, Groped blindly for a savior but no one was there. The pressure built, forcing him further down, Isolated, and lost there was no one around. Till the day he played the knife down his arm, No one thought that he would self harm The freshly fallen… Continue reading Beggar
For over half of my life I’ve been depressed, not just the cause kind of depression that so many people suffer, I’m not that lucky. I have had this deep rooted, dark miasma of a mental illness since I was fifteen years old. The first time I told my mom I was depressed, she said… Continue reading Major Depressive Disorder…
(Here's another of my poems from my darker years. It really is amazing how much my outlook has changed. ) I ripped out my heart for you Lost my will to exist Broken mind, nothing seems true Everything is a hazy mist Confusion clouds my every thought My life has fallen apart All your lies… Continue reading Hopeless Cause of Broken Dreams
In the society that I live in, people like me are disposable. I have two strikes against me, and half of a lifetime of abuse has given me a third in the form of PTSD and social anxiety. The latter of the two could have been prevented had the world been kinder to someone like me. I have been crippled by the abuse that society has perpetrated upon people that aren’t “normal”.