He taught me how to make my first knot.

It was a hanging noose out of a piece of string.

He told me, "prove your love to me and make me a noose like I showed you."

And I did.

My noose sucked but I still did it.

I wear that noose as a necklace now.

It seemed sad and unfinished.

Missing something.

So I took the other end of the black string and made another noose.

Now it felt complete.

My own Infinity Noose.

I wear it to remind me of love and the inevitability of death.

I wear it to remind me of you and what is lost to me.

I wear it to remind me of how suicidal I used to be.

I wear it to remind me of the past, when I wanted to hang myself.

It is a constant reminder that maybe, just maybe I should hang on a little longer.

It is a constant reminder of singing, drinking, dialysis, hospice, of John and my father.

"Words said in hate. Things we can't take back. Memories can't tolerate. Regrets and mistakes we have made. Things circling back from the past. How much longer will this last? Not one more day not if i have a say in this mess. Need to stop living in the past and move forward to change our present and look forward to the future instead of wishing for death I wanna live in the here and now. I just didn't know how. Took me all this time to learn how to do that. Hopeful. Impossible to move back."

Is this unveiling truly revealing something hidden deep beneath the surface?

Or is this just the tip of the iceberg peeking over the plateau?

Underneath.

How much further must you go before all is shown?

Do you know?

Do I even know anything truly about myself?

Or do I just go off of what others say or think about my mask?

When I lay myself down to rest and there is no need to hide from the rest but I am stuck with myself and this is the ultimate test.

Do you love yourself?

Do you know what it feels like to not hate yourself?

Do you know the difference?

Hate and anger and vengeance were my friends.

Since they've been stripped away...

I feel like I lost my demons.

What shall I carry on my back and shoulders now that the weight has been lifted?

I feel weird.

I feel light.

I feel fine?

But is that just denial and a lie?

Felt so used to being a ball of painful memories and it feels like something did electric shock therapy.

Or did my aunt really perform some unknowing exorcism on me?

Everything happens for a reason they say...

Part of me splitting away, part of me taking over and reigning in control.

Part of me feels gone...a huge chunk of my soul.

Are you still there or did something else get stolen from me? Another part of me.

Gone.

I wish my sister never did meth.

I wish she would go to rehab.

I wish God would fix her.

I wish I could do something about it.

But i have failed.

I just hope it's not too late.

They tell you you’re pretty.

She tells you, “You’re beautiful. You went from a 9 to a 16.”

Is this a compliment made to make me feel better about myself?

All dolled up. First time wearing this much fucking makeup in my life.

I screamed for my life as I finally got brave and she plucked my eyebrows for me. Thanks ma.

They told me to...thanks.

I guess I don’t really mind changing this body of mine since I don’t really feel connected to it much anyway.

I’ll do anything for my job, I can do anything for my job.

1)Learn to wear heels over the weekend.

✔ learned to wear heels in a day Bitch.

Finally shaved my legs to not get judged at just how much I don’t give a fuck...but they pay you to fit a mold and to fit in a box.

“I am pretty oh so pretty...but I don’t look anything like me is this reflection in the mirror really me?"

And do they like me, do they really like me?

Oh I doubt it. I really doubt it.

They like what they see, they see what they wanna see and I let them see what they want me to be...because it is impossible.

So I will change from time to time from frame to frame.

Change the hair, change the face, change the clothes, chameleon on the rogue.

Do you only see me when I am 5'4 in platform heels and wearing a pound of foundation?

Do you only want to talk to me when my hair is every color of the rainbow?

Do I stand out from the crowd now?

Should I love myself now because everyone thinks they like me now?

Oh what a joke.

I don't really like people

I don't really like this place

I don't really like anything

I don't really believe in outerspace

And I know this all sounds kinda crazy.

Is there a doctor out there, out there anywhere to fix me?

I didn't think so.

I'll smile and fake emotion and personality but really I'm a robot, I'm a zombie, I'm an alien all in one.

But not a human being.

I don't really like this planet.

I don't really feel like I belong here.

When is the ship coming back for me?

Is there an abort button?

#Robots

#ArtificialIntelligence

#Work

#Space

#Zombie

#Aliens

...even though I know that nobody will listen to my songs or read my poetry and they're all about my problems anyway and even my therapist doesn't want to hear my ranting...why would you listen to my singing?

I am told that I have perfect pitch, but that was from my ex, was she just trying to be nice and sweet? I am told that sometimes I come off like I'm a bitch, especially when I'm walking and in a hurry. Don't they know? Don't you know? Just how stoned and fucked up in the head I am, that sometimes I don't care to be present, don't care to be there, don't care to be here, don't care to get to know you or talk to you and I have a pretty good feeling you feel the same way about me.

But I feel nervous like a virgin getting to third base as I go up on stage and there is no protection from the bacteria run rampant in this microphone, here I tremble and awkwardly stand and even more awkwardly dance during instrumentals.

I know before the music plays before the first lyrics hit the screen that my voice will crack, break, shake and disappoint me.

Does anybody actually enjoy this or am I just doing this for me?

Is my voice stuck inside my throat because I don't feel good enough, to allow myself to choke, get up there, too high for this right now, barely even there. Forcing myself to be present when I am just drifting endlessly.

#songwritingissues

#poetryissues

#karaoke

I am 27 now and will be 27 always.

In this memory

In this encapsulated momeny

which stretches before me as if neverending but I know it is not...isn't it finite?

Or are thing actually infinite?

Love feels tangible until it doesn't anymore.

Was the beginning when I first opened my eyes or when I first noticed my mind, body and self are all connected at the tender age of 7?

20 years and not much feels different in this regard

I still feel oddly connected

But simultaneously dissociated

Bodily form, Deformed bodies, my former body, my present body, my future body. Every body.

I have many names.

Many lives.

Are they all the same?

When footsteps became less comical and became more quizzical:right, then left, then more complex in high school with the introduction of marching in time.

An alien in a foreign land, sometimes it feels like they know I don't belong here with their kind, but how do they know?

You know that funny feeling you get when you lock eyes with someone and it feels like they're reading your mind and penetrating your soul thoughts through your eye windows? That feeling.

Numbers gain significance at different stages and different settings:

1st birthday party.

2nd base

3rd date

4th period

5th time moving

6 different ex-girlfriends/boyfriends/etc.

7 hours of sleep is unrealistic

Age 8 - self conscious enough to be aware of depression

age 10 - severely depressed to know about suicide

age 12 - suicidal and homicidal

age 13 - puberty and sexuality

16 - alcohol isn't my thing

18 - smoking is though

21- lots of drinking in my new thing now

23 - i'm in love with being in love

25 - career, 9-5 thing

27 - heartbreak/suicide plan diverted

28 - staying alive, staying alive. ha ha ha, stayin alive.

Puberty is such a complicated thing and for most people a time to find their sexuality and take pride in such things.

But not so easy for me, more self-hatred and loathing for me.

Girlfriends and boyfriends and fuckbuddies and people just using me to cheat or using me to rape me or using me for love or using me for money or using me for company.

Is it so bad? When I am simultaneously using them to make myself feel more normal than I actually am?

Will anyone ever really love me?

I once told someone, told a few someones, but atll the same. I regret eat one and wish I could take every word back from their memory bank.

Because in moments of vulnerability, people will use what they know.

Oh high school, usually positive memories but mine are fleeting and few and far between.

I do of my dad and me, walking on the beach, toes in sand and water in reach...

Goodbye murderous rage, hello drug addictions and raves.

Goodbye high school, goodbye family, goodbye old boring me and whatever, anything and everything that could remind me of me.

Hello college, hello adult trauma, hello trauma bonding, hello denial.

You and I will have long lasting friendships.

Hello to the truth that I am an asshole who just lies and cheats and steals.

Hello to friends who will love me momentarily while I throw wild parties and give out drugs.

Hello to the girlfriends and boys I am just friendly with...

I don't know how to love or hot to accept love, I was never really taught that growing up.

Who of you will stick around for the end of the show, who of you will stick around for the end of the show, who of you will actually stick around till the end of the credits?

At least through all of this, I ended up with an angel from Heaven, his name is Ollie and you would see, just another little dog.

He taught me to love and accept love and finally accept me for me.

Maybe friendships and love can be real and everlasting?

Is he the reason why I didn't commit suicide at 27?

Is he the reason why I'm still around and not dying?

Does he really love me or is he just stuck with me cuz he's a dog and I'm his human?

#27

#27survivorclub

#life

#dogs

#college

#ComingOfAge

#addictions

#friendships

#dissociation

I want my death to be celebrated.

My life to be remembered.

Memories of me to be shared and enjoyed.

At my funeral, I want pop music, I want 80 music, I want David Bowie music videos playing incessantly.

Crying will not be tolerated...

Crying might happen, sadness can be felt, but I don’t want people to dwell or spiral down into their own sad spells.

Death is inevitable.

Every moment in life is also imminent.

To enjoy, to love, to feel content or even happy...that takes conscientious choice.

My life has been filled and drowned by sadness and depression and regrets but at some point you get to this place where you find it all so absurd.

Sure living is suffering but it is also gratifying.

We can focus on the fact that the world is overrun by corruption, hatred, greed and Lucifer’s hypocrisy or we can see what we want to see what we choose to see instead of seeing Satan’s imagery in t.v., movies and advertising...I want to be like Michael and see God reflected in a child’s face.

When I die and when I am gone, I will feel happy. And I hope that others will feel happy for me, happy to have known me, and happy when they think of me.

Dying is really just like getting to the finish line before others, so for me it will be like winning.

And there I shall wait for you to meet me and greet me as if it were just yesterday when I last saw you and you last saw me.