Monday, February 25, 2013

Home Isn't Real

How can you put what you feel into words
When it's treated like a joke or a scam,
It's always manipulation or fake,
And you don't even deserve a friend.

And they were there once,
All the adults do say,
But if you were there once,
Why do you treat me this way?

I just want to be understood,
But I won't say it aloud.
It's too cliche and pathetic,
And I am much too proud.

So that's why I sit here crying,
Trying to hold it all inside.
Writing a poem, my last release,
Thinking of all the other times I've cried.

Why would you try to explain the truth,
When you're just ignored and put to the side?
Is it because I'm too old, or because of my youth?
I'm done; I've tried and I've tried.

And you'll see the comment on this post,
Another falsity and lie
I'm so tired of trying,
This is why I don't cry.

Inside there's a monster,
It's eaten me whole,
But it hides behind the smile,
Even though I'll stumble, fall, and roll.

They say that my Savior felt this way,
I do think He did.
But He's up there, and I'm down here,
And I'm only just a kid.

I don't have what I need,
And this'll be read,
And people will sympathize,
And it won't mean a thing.

How can you say what you feel
When it's treated like a joke or a scam?
You'll shuffle your feet and feel incomplete,
And into your dark hole you'll cram.

Seems like I'm too busy being told what to do
To let go of how I feel.
They constantly give me advice and give me words
And this is why home isn't real.

They'll order me around and threaten me,
With grounding and grades and I'll cry,
They won't listen, they don't care,
And this is why home isn't anywhere.


It was long ago but clear to me,
The wisdom and the honesty,
In sacrifice it blessed.

I am a witness of the Savior,
Knowing of the perfect One,
In perfection He came.

And knowledge of the Savior,
Brings wisdom of the ones,
Angels on Earth, wingless and strong.

Sent here to love me, be saviors too,
Keep me on the right path,
Bring me back home.

And so I look to my Father and Brother,
Holding hands with those on Earth,
Someday we'll find our way.

So reaching across miles and days,
Or sometimes right there in front of me,
We touch the hearts of those we love.

And charity is our taste of perfection,
And I'm glad to know I am loved,
Ready to find my way.

And I walk in the right, love and with might,
We push and we pull together to find,
Our way back to Him.

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Nonsense is My Only Fluent Language

And also maybe Gibberish.

So there was a post here.  And then it ran away and ate chocolate cupcakes and is lost forever.  This is my life.

Everything eventually becomes "alive" and "human".  Sort of.


Don't ask.  You don't want to know.  Hell, I don't want to know, and it's my brain.

But yeah.



Sunday, February 10, 2013

I have been mildly depressed for the past two weeks.  And sick for the last three. Luckily one or two more days and it'll be gone (I can sing without sounding awful and hacking my head off).

The depression sort of started on Monday.  My mom had to go to the hospital.

And I'm scared.  I really am.  What if I have what she has?  It's a congenital heart disorder and that means I have a 50% chance of having it.

I've started to have back problems, and I may have vertigo.  I don't want this.  I was healthy.

And then, of course, I'm fat.

It always cycles back around to that.  I want to be healthy.  I want to be thin.  I am beautiful... Now I want other people to see that.  I want to have children.  I want to improve my mental - and now, physical - problems.

But then I don't.  Oh, chocolate.  Oh, ice cream.  Oh, bread.  Yup.  Freaking bread.
And I see veggies.  I could grab and chomp in less time than a bag of popcorn.  I love clementines.  I have them!  And apples, and cucumbers, and edamame, and soybeans, brocolli, cauliflower - so much stuff.
And I'm not going for it.  I want to hit myself on the head.  Why the heck?

I think everything's scaring me.  My mom scares me, and I'm worried about her, and... I'm overwhelmed.  I'm in tenth grade.
The hardest year of my life so far.  Not socially, but workload - heck yes.  It's kind of killing me.

And my dreams.  My hopes.  My talents.  I have a guitar collecting dust in the corner; I could get it out, spend 15 minutes a day.  Get good at it; write songs - not just the lyrics.
I could practice drawing.  Just a little.  A bit at a time.  Get good at it, instead of pretty bad like I am now.
I could excersize.  30 minutes a day (except Sunday).  Be healthy, be strong, improve this apparent beginnings of vertigo and back issues.
But then I just don't.

Even when I don't have the computer, I choose a book.  I laze around.  I neglect homework - procrastinate - even when I'm not on here.  And on the computer I could be working on coding.  Game-making.  Drawing with a mouse.

I have a game to help improve my drawing, for Pete's sakes, my mom bought it, and it's on the wii.  It would take practically no effort to just do one activity one, twice a week maybe.

I could work on cooking from scratch and find healthy alternatives to the foods I love.  I could work with my mom on that.  I could experiment with recipes - like for cookies - to have less sugar and butter in them and still taste delicious.  Get my mom's help.

But all of that, none of that... I'm just...
Why aren't I doing things that would be just so simple?