Journalling?

Post #2

Is it bad that I decide to isolate myself, or a I helping myself because I have been too social? I just want to be alone and relax and drink, which sounds sad- drinking alone is often a habit of alcoholism.  Yet, I feel that it would be fun to feel a little buzzed and watch Game of Thrones, sip juice and coffee, eat crackers and vegan cheese, and relax in bed until I fall asleep naturally, rather than forcing myself to stay up in a risky scenario with friends that are not able to drink legally on an extremely conservative campus by administration.

Again.  I have a minor symptom of PTSD in that I do not allow myself to drink with those that I was involved with on the night of my second write-up.  I feel like that night forever scarred me- I thought I was being safe, even though I had an intuition that we were being loud.  Now I follow everything that my mind tells me and deny myself all of life's pleasure, unless I am by myself because I know that I can control that.  Now I feel that I am shortening the extent of my college experience, by denying occasional fuck-ups and drunk memories with friends.  Yet, I know that I can't mess up again, or else my future is ruined.  Thus, this is probably a temporary fix to a current problem.  I have to be a control freak for the next two quarters (the remainder of the school year) in order to make sure I can still assure admission into a good graduate school.

I pray that I did well on my finals.  One of the reasons that I started creating these type of entries on my poetry blog is because I have felt the need to release some of my emotions.  I have been a drunk mess, an emotional disaster, a horny heat, and a relapse freak.  I have actually started engaging in negative behaviors everyday for the past week, because I have been extremely sad by my chemistry midterm.  All I want for my college career is a 3.7+ GPA and by possibly earning a B in chemistry, i am ruining my future chances of admission into a prestigious graduate school university.  Its ok though- I have my alcohol and behaviors if all else fails.  Hoping to stop if I can, but who knows...

The Boy that Smiles and Waves

Does he even know
The pain he throws
At my freezing soul
When he smiles and waves my way.

Does he think I'm a friend,
One of the band
yet again,
Another puppet to his collection.

I want a warm embrace,
not a "hello" to the face,
Not a gesture, nor a fist bump,
Not a nod.

If only he could know,
the pain he did throw
At my soul
With a smile and a wave.

Sad Things

Loser part 2

Blog notice

December 4th, 2016, and I still lack a community.  Life is as cold as the wind and rain during this winter in San Diego, doubling the pain I feel.  Am I not relationship material, or has my alcoholism spiraled out of control? Am I a whore? A druggie? After blowing the guy on floor 2, floor 2 has given me a weird vibe.  I am friendly with everyone, but the entire floor denies my joy.  Am I fat? Do I deserve a relationship? Friends? Will my friends stay? Will they betray me? Are they betraying me? Do they talk behind my back? Do they wish I wasn't here?

Loser

Racing through the forest of my mind,
An unescapable doom I find
Whose dark depths intrigue
The bearer of all woe.

It starts with the past . . .
Something of a mis-made cast
Whose purpose distorts the future
With imperfections and flaws.

Yet present finds the day,
Whose worldly problems often pay
For the anxiety and pressure
Of an inevitable failure.

Future then comes last,
Often leaving me aghast,
For if the past and present shape the future,
There will mature a loser.

Dietic Doom

Diets, Diets, Diets.

Racing through the country like a tsunami hitting the sand.

However, perhaps there really is a flood-

A flooding of morals and rationale from one,

Replaced with the sins of fads and “fashion.”

Diets, Diets, Diets.

Caused by a false portrayal of health

For beauty is the glow of happiness,

Not the depression of bone-lust.

Diets, Diets, Diets.

Will carbs “kill you”

Or will society’s glorified message?

Will your hourglass stay pristine?

Or will it burst like the glass that contains what is within,

The sand pouring out of every crack and crevice?

Yet, this is avoidable.

A pear, an apple, and a flank shape are fine.

If body shape defines value,

Society is doomed.

A Heart of Daisies

O Poor Ophelia,

Thy heart is but a range of daisies,

While thy mind is all aloe.

Thy grief hath changed thou,

A sinner in the eyes of He,

But thy inners ring gentle

So holy shall thou be,

An image of reverence

That I revere readily.

So long as weeds don’t transform pedals,

Holy shall thou be.

Daydreamer

The silky skin;
The flawless grin;
Melting away hours of memory.
Whether it be by the nose
Or the tips of the toes,
That man is surely an idol.
From the tan tint
To the eyes' glint,
Divinity seems true.
Yet if reflection finds truth,
The sanctity is a visage of youth.

The Living Hypocrite

As you slit the wrist,

Take the drug,
Drink the shot,

Sniff the coke,

and swallow the pill,

You Hate Pain.

But physical pain is false,

Emotional pain triumphs.

To end the real pain,

You cut the line

And die in the process.

Currents

Waves ripple up and down the coast of my soul.  The seagulls chirp as the cold, icy waves meet their swift demise on the dark, moist sand.  Is doomsday here? Not a sign, but the harsh awakening of the everyday has arrived and greeted all survivors.

Collapse

A bridge has been broken.
No more union,
No more connection-
Only utter depression.
The splinters pierce the water below it,
Engulfed in its utter dilemma.
For this union caused dissolution,
A seperation for eternity.

Man and his Creator

Color flows from their tips like dew from a rose,

Falling until the last drip is dry.

Yet, what is their thereafter?

Is it the mark they make on others?

Or is it the dry, decayed color stained

Material that remains attached to the being,

Rotting with time and exhausting with every contact to air.

The utensil doesn’t stand alone;

However, the art gradually dies as well.

It loses its vibrancy; the vivacity;

The very quality of attractiveness.

Thus, as one and their maker cease to exist,

Are our creations everlasting?

Do they float like a bird in the wind across the Earth;

Like a song and its sound?

Memories always exist, regardless of life;

Time always remembers to continue on.

Thus, fret not ye creators of beauty.

Your creativity will flourish after death,

Shaping the Earth with all of its depth.

Society will not fret,

Woes will not shake,

Everything will continue; everlasting.

The Annhilation

Force and brutality;

Unquestionable leadership;

The devices of Satan.

A choice to choose

Is removed at an instant

And as a result,

All freedom is lost.

Viewed as merely puppets,

Lives are changed

With the cutting of scissors.

Minor alterations spark

Major alterations,

Breaking the puppets

And killing them slowly.

A bloody war is fought,

With evil triumphing over

The Holy Spirit.

Yet, God shall triumph again.

His power is great,

As he is the true leader,

And he triumphs over the dark.

Perseverance

Sing sweet nightingale;

Stir no more in times of horror,

But relax in a state of prosper

And enjoy all of nature’s gifts.

You look rather frightened

By the atrocities committed below.

Yet, think not of the evil in the world

And long for a time of justice and liberty.

While your comrades fall into a deep sleep,

You stay awake; your eyes evident with

Depression and trauma; your mouth with a song,

So sweet it doesn’t fit your appearance.

Yes, persevere through these awful times,

For age with grant your comrades freedom.

So sing sweet nightingale;

May your hope never die as your innocence has.