Controlled Fate (Villanelle)

Today I do not feel good, nor do I feel okay.
This day started out strange with a sudden gust of cold.
I never wanted this, begged to be any colour but grey.

All of these people try so hard to find the right things to say,
But words fall heavily to the ground, collecting mold.
Today I do not feel good, nor do I feel okay.

Everyday a war between acceptance and dismay.
I'm a worthy warrior but the struggle is getting old.
I never wanted this, begged to be any colour but grey.

It's not always so bad, occasionally beams a ray
of sunlight, but it's no match for anxiety's choke hold.
Today I do not feel good, nor do I feel okay.

Exits can't be considered though, knowing I must stay.
Hold on to the blissful idea of despair someday being controlled.
I never wanted this, begged to be any colour but grey.

Run quickly from it all and hole up in your hideaway.
Muster all your strength to not let the dark thoughts grab a hold.
But today I won't feel good, nor will I feel okay.
I swear I never wanted this. I begged to be any colour but grey.

Jack The Ripper / More Than Meets The Eye (Comparison poems)

One needn't look far to find a Byronic male.
They're the first call you make when you need a ride home and payment of bail.
They'll look the other way when they catch you in the wrong,
And even nod their head when you beg them to "just play along".
Yes, the Byronic male doesn't hesitate to help a friend,
So long as they've got some money to "lend".
The Byronic male, foolishly renamed Superman,
Loves to rescue all that he can.
Disguising greed in a bright red cape,
who would've guessed blackmail as a way to get in shape?
Do not be fooled by Superman's kindness,
For he is really just testing you for potential blindness.
He lives to hear his admirers say "I owe you one"
Knowing he has power over them is far too much fun
Once he's called you on it more times than seem justified,
You'll wonder "resourceful or devious?"and be unable to decide.
Beware of situations where you are not sure what to do,
And take caution in crying for Superman to save you.
More power to you if you feel no shame.
If it all comes crashing, you have only yourself to blame.

---

The life of a princess, how delicate and sweet.
A life of power, wealth, and beauty could not be more complete.
The wealthy princess never had to work for a dime,
For messing her hair could be considered true crime.
The powerful princess has the world in her fingertips,
and any gentleman would kill for a taste of her lips.
The beautiful princess is given only one chore:
To be as flawless as every princess before.
She is raised to believe that beauty is all she will need.
As a woman, having nothing else to offer, is another lie they must feed.
She will not be brave or educated enough to do anything but fret.
For every Byronic male is well aware of his stance,
and how quickly it can be taken after one wrong glance.
The confident woman does not stress over her looks,
She focuses instead on the hidden powers of books.
She'll bat her eyelashes and giggle mindlessly,
Until the day comes where she makes her stand, ceremoniously.
One day the pretend princess will make it clear:
A clever woman conceals strength that knows no fear.

Sick of Sick (Lake School of Thought)

Inhale, exhale, relax and avoid relapse.
One goal: to get better, to smile sweeter.
If you pretend like no one's listening,
It's normally true until the day you are missing.

Then they'll swarm you with love,
swearing to be there till the day you give them a shove.
But I don't want to be missed.
Furthermore, I don't want to be kissed.

A list, you made a list of all the things
you'd never share, claimed to be contributors to the rings
carved deeply under both eyes.
I say no better caffeine than a hard line of lies.

Or a hard line of further deceit,
that line of red odoured with rust.
Which one was it? Nevermind finally
seeing him in the light, seeing he looks so grimey.

He was worse than the man in your nightmares,
worse than you ever conjured, but who cares.
Slap another lawful paper down,
maybe this prescription will make you cease to frown.

They beg you to talk, scream, or cry.
Anything is progress but another lie.
You're wasting everyone's time
And that, my dear, is the ultimate crime.

For yours is running out.
Every second creeping closer to your fallout
But you're unphased by all of this,
so you sink only deeper into your personal abyss.

Now no one bother to listen to your drifting sigh.
You're officially out of options, goodbye.

Obsessions (Rhyme Royal)

Messages, messages, please leave me be.
Never had I felt so suffocated
with the fear that my eyes couldn't really see.
Every compliment a lie created,
constantly wishing I were sedated
as to not feel every person's stares;
though the worst have to be the mirror's glares.

Coat your skin in five pounds of illusion,
then starve yourself until you've withered into a broomstick.
Mother says it's distorted delusion,
but you'll still cry when your thighs seem too thick.
Take crazy diet pills that make your body tick,
whatever it takes to not look like this.
Your disease will steal any chance of bliss.

So a big "fuck you!" to beauty standards,
and "eat shit!" for setting traps in my mind.
I refuse to let my values be slandered.
It's so difficult to be satisfied
with the absurd way we were all designed.
We are human, composed of skin and bone,
worth more than meaningless numbers alone.

and breathe

Things at school are finallyyy feeling normal again. On Wednesday it was portfolio day, the huge stressful day I've been working towards, and I presented my portfolio and chatted with people from OCAD, Guelph and York. It went really well and I feel accomplished and much more relaxed now that a lot of my post secondary stress has been dealt with. I think I might want to go to York instead of OCAD now, but I'll definitely apply to all three. It's also a new term so my textiles and painting lessons are no longer overlapping. I finished my cat quilt and feel excited and ready to start fresh with the new term in textiles. We've started weaving with the looms, which I've never done before, but I hope I enjoy it. My teacher knows about my anxiety and has been very patient and helpful with me, so textiles is feeling more manageable and I'm determined to balance my two studios better this term. We also have figure drawing instead of portfolio prep which will be so lovely and I've missed it a lot.

I feel like I've been running everywhere,gogogo, since mid October and finally I can slow down a bit. I'm dedicating this weekend to solitude and relaxing- going to the gym, cleaning the house, and I work tomorrow. Lots of quality cat time in between. I'm trying to give my brain a break so I can throw myself into assignments this upcoming week.

I'm really upset and worried about Jordan though. Thursday night he went to emergency and I guess now he's set up in a room and whatnot. I haven't heard from him today and it's driving me crazy not knowing what's going on. Supposedly because he's an adult he'd be able to sign himself out and wanted to leave today, but I'm not sure about that because they could put him on a form and then he'd be forced to stay, but those aren't normally for longer than 72 hours. I feel like it's partially my fault he's there and I feel so horrible knowing he's so far away and alone. At least he's safe. If he's in there for a few days (hopefully not weeks) it's going to be really rough and I can't afford bus tickets to visit. :c gah. I hate feeling useless.

Worrying won't help though, I've just got to be calm and take care of myself this weekend. I lost my mind these past few weeks and I've got to make sure it doesn't run away any further. Mid november up until Christmas is usually a pretty happy time of year for me, especially when I start leaping into the festivities, so I'm going to try to build myself up a bit stronger and then I can just be happy and enjoy life for the next month or so. Positivity and shitttt.

wowlovely

I already posted this on tumblr, but I like it and am posting it here for future reference.
"My best friend could be a surgeon, I swear. He cut me open with feathers, delicately removed all the broken glass swimming inside me and replaced them, piece for piece, with butterflies. He stitched me shut with a steady string of kisses, ensuring safety inside. "

I've been a really big awful mess lately but sometimes people do help. I want to try to incorporate that into a painting. 

progress or not

Some days I think I'm miles ahead of the dark hole I fell into last winter. I walk out of my therapist's office like hell yeah, I'm awesome, so much better now, mad props to me. I remember the countless things to enjoy in life and rejoice over the fact that 85% of the time if I come into contact with another human I don't shrivel up and cry. That's big. I can kind of even hold conversations some days. Progressprogressprogress.

But then there's those really dark nights where I forget all of this and feel like I'm nose down in the dirt of my grave once more. I'm better in some ways, but maybe a hundred times worse in other ways. Maybe I replaced my social anxiety disorder with another illness. Times like those I can almost see the automatic hospital doors swing open with that one nurse who first greeted me, waiting with open arms and holy shit I could get admitted again like next week, I'm so crazy.

But this is not the case. I'm 18 now, so if I was ever sectioned again, I wouldn't be in the youth ward and likely wouldn't see that nurse again. I'm an ~adult~ now with responsibilities and I've already been there/done that with most forms of therapy which means really I haven't got any more time to waste being sick. I just need to hurry up and be... better already.

 I have no idea what better entails. I guess better does not mean best. I don't need to be best. I just get so tired and uninspired living one day at a time, coping, struggling, coping, struggling. I'm so confused. I think a part of me never wants to be fully recovered and mentally stable. There's a certain beauty in seeing the dark side of things. Maybe I like being crazy. Maybe I like the little pillow/blanket fort of self destructive thoughts in my brain that I occasionally crawl into. I really don't know, about much of anything right now, and I guess that's okay.