Crossroad
I put my pants on one leg at a time like everyone else. I brush my teeth with Colgate toothpaste, twice a day. I pick between light and dark roast coffee at Starbucks. I choose what music station to listen to in the car on the way to work. I can't change a tire, but I can belt out every word to Rhianna's "Disturbia."
What I don't tell anyone, or admit to myself, is that in between all these routine moments, I am panicking. Any moment can turn into a downward spiral. All I have to do is think about my existence, my past, my pain.
It's a tic. It's a voice in my head, unconscious - I walk into rooms and look around at the ceiling, thinking about where I could hang a rope. I stare too long at sharp objects. My mind is not my friend.
I come to a personal crossroads every day. Do I choose the path where I destroy myself, or the path where I survive?
I didn't think I'd live this long. I'm stunted. I have limped along to get this far, thinking only in terms of living to the weekend. My younger sibling has since gone to graduate school at a university akin to Harvard, gotten a job that pays almost 100K, has a child with an adoring husband. I'm left wondering, what have I done with my life? I think back to therapy, where I was taught to "turn the mind" - think about positivity in the face of sadness. I have spent fifteen years turning the mind and I am tired.
The terrifying part is it's not black and white. Good brain, bad brain. Pain, happiness. The unconscious and destructive part of my brain that leads me to think negatively often bleeds into the rational, sane part of my brain. Like an addict, I have to sometimes physically remove myself from certain environments lest I be tempted by certain self-destruction. But sometimes it's not that easy.
Think of it as like a person on a diet. They aren't going to wander into an ice cream shop, say. They don't seek out what they are trying to avoid. But then they go to a birthday party - in my world, this is akin to being alone for too long, staying in bed all day. The person on a diet might cave, say, I'll just have one bite of ice cream. But one bite is all it takes. In my world, one "bad" thought and it could lead to hospitalization.
I live very carefully. I think very carefully. I think with other people - I'm going to go ahead and use the word "neurotypical" - they can trust their thoughts. They don't live moment to moment at a crossroads in their own mind. To inflict pain, to not inflict pain. I know I have a disease. I'm addicted to pain, maybe, in love with my own suffering. But that's just it - there's the "bad" part of my brain, telling me I want it.
Every day is waking up to a new crossroads, picking which path to go down. Every day I have to choose to be happy and sane, go down that particular path. Just like I put my pants on one leg at a time every morning, it's always a new day, a new battle, a new resolve to beat my own internal monologue.
i hold the remains with broken hands and it's difficult
setting stone with fractured bones
but who else will do it
my hair has grown too long
so i will cut it with bent fingers
when it looks bad i'll be glad it made you laugh
i listen to the pains i've felt
spoken from other mouths
and try to be detached from them
because nothing i've felt could be as important
why should i exist if not to persist
to walk on my broken feet
so i can help
so your life can be better
how else can i measure my value
if i'm not of service who am i
Lonely flower
Take a Dahlia for my eternal love
Feel the same keen singing of the rain
Fall back into the flame of my desire.
Here is a Pansy because I think of you
Twirled in the wave of an autumn night
Light of the morning, the rosy dawn,
Light of my youth, through the dusky morning.
Finally, a Hawthorne because I hope one day you will love me.
a poem for my love
When you write a poem write one for me
My love said as I lay down on the bed
I closed my eyes to see what I could see
And visions of her danced inside my head
She's strong and brave and kind, my darling wife
She smiles and launches ships by accident
I’m blessed to be with her to share my life
A quarter of a century well spent
There’s so much more to her than meets the eye
although the eye is happily well met
She focuses on do and not on try
She understands the equity of sweat
I’m proud to be the man to hold her hand
And by my wedded bride I’ll always stand
Infatuated
Blossom, seeds planted a decade ago,
Growth and change turned into
a comfortable flow of water
Between my heart and mind,
A box of milk chocolates doesn't matter,
Neither does a balloon ride,
Or a bouquet of roses,
Love transcends man-made things,
Affection is the nail that holds
together a relationship
From the first second,
Your stars held me across our universe,
When I was drifting in the dark aimlessly.
Miscommunication
She sees my hand coming,
sliding, slipping
through her hair;
frisking, frolicking
around her ears;
plunging, pushing
down, so I can see
a screen?
poking out of...
I feel her touch;
long nails pressing
against my chest,
lifting my head
away from her... phone?
Half out of her pocket,
big, bright, bold.
My best friend's name?
No, must be imagining things,
Need to confirm.
Stumbling, staggering;
our eyes don't move, still
latched, locked
with hers, but my head
tipping, tilting.
Pointing at his name.
Face turning red.
She goes to grab my hand,
I turn, brush her off,
push her off.
Long nails tapping
on my shoulder,
I turn back,
she's pointing at a present,
big box, wrapped in gold
with his and her name attached.
For me?
For me.
Also the fist rapidly growing
closer to my face,
that is also for me.
Guess I deserve it
the words her eyes said
eyebags scooped up her tears like a bowl
filling to the brim before streaking down her face
jaw set tight, holding back what little she could
with each breath, something breaking
although her lips would tell lies
nothing but truth was revealed in her eyes
he would sigh
then leave without ever saying goodbye
