i'm supposed to know where

home is.

and i have the address memorized in my brain,

so maybe

that means i know where i am.

but once i step off

the corner of the sidewalk at the end of the street,

i am sent

into a labyrinth,

a twisting, living maze,

full of street names that ring bells

but don't form melodies.

people think i'm crazy

when i say i don't know where i am.

i memorize the way to work

but can never deviate from the plan.

i can remember street names, but never what's on them,

the map in my brain

is made of disconnected bubbles

that easily pop.

they think i'm not paying attention,

that i'm willfully ignoring the signs.

but they don't feel the panic

when i'm walking to the park

and realize there's only darkness in my mind

where a map should be.

have i seen this house before?

there's no way to tell.

didn't i pass that sign a minute ago

or was that

last week?

senses blur into fog

obscuring everything but my legs

and i have no choice but to walk

until i reach the edge of the neighborhood

before i finally admit defeat

and turn on my phone:

siri, take me home.

she says

it's a two minute walk from here.

I used to believe that I knew my way around things

In my mind, I was confidently sure that I could always find the way

I'm resourceful enough to find the answers

I'm intelligent enough to choose my own path

I've accomplished this much and I am strong enough to go further...

Unexpected

This is a big obstacle

Confusion

I feel suddenly unsure

Where am I?

Who am I?

How did I get here?

How can I get out of this unfamiliar place?

I don't understand and I can't find the answers that I need

Panic

I don't know how to get the help I desperately need

Where is everybody?

Tears

Vulnerability

Weak and start to question, how can I get through this on my own

Stuck and ruminating thoughts that can't decide where and how to keep going

Lost

Buoyed by tepid indecision

Above the heated debate

Colliding with all others lost in vacillation

Forced to encounter a ditherer's inertia

Ballistically, above the fray

My pieces may fall to Earth

The fracas below, an inversion of doubt

Who shall I land upon?

One is right, the other righter

One will die when I strike from above

Whom will I choose?

Might as well be me

Feeling lost,

deep in thought.

Swirling around,

mixing together.

Dear, you see,

I can't stop to breathe.

Feeling lost,

Trying to be found.

Finding myself,

lost in thought.

Dear, you see,

I fear to breathe.

For love, can't you see?

I'm lost inside me.

Lost, trying to find my way out,

fearing my thoughts my suffocate me.

Please understand, please do see,

I am trying to breath.

I am trying to swim.

But, I'm lost, inside my thought.

wake up

immediately block my boyfriend.

i know

that he'll understand why. i don't.

id like

for it to rain today, but it doesn't.

id like

for my flowers to die. they don't.

id like

to be stuck in tragic accident.

id like

for my boyfriend to hate me.

i reach

for anything that may be wrong

because

it feels wrong, but i know it's not.

cycles

bore me, but never punch me

and

there's really nothing to do

except

silently watch the noise around,

sitting

in the center of it all.

There within

the dense, foggy lapses of reality,

I find myself alone;

Disengaged and catatonic,

As the absence of spirit eludes me.

I am barely within the compounds

Of this jagged-edged limbo –

This drifting piece of what is and what is not.

Nonsensical ramblings

Erupting like an angel’s fine trumpet –

Though, in a not-so-far-away distance,

I taste the tangy nip

Of that heavy, sour storm of numbness awaiting.

Ever so near to me;

But a stone’s throw away

hidden behind the shadows.

Nothing more than the mere dust of others

That I place my feet upon;

And I weep quietly as I hum a lullaby for the Fallen.

I am so much more than just lost, my friend.

I fell head first into confusion –

And oh, how it warps into

Such a beautifully, chaotic delusion!

I am circling about;

As if a feral, rabid shark could be as one –

One alive;

One of lore,

One of me.

I will never be free of insanity;

Forever locked in the deep recesses of the mind’s filthy pool.

I could never be one of strength –

For the devil tore my heart out

Upon my deliverance.

Ate it up

And just walked on by without a shiver to his brow.

And tell me, my dear –

Just what is there left beneath my feet,

Around my gravity,

Beyond the skies,

When the entirety of my being

Was mishandled from the start?

Placed before me were greedy, dirty hands

That took my innocence

And raped my rationality.

And, oh, how they dare to spit on my name!

To defile my offspring

And decapitate our spring of life!

But yet,

I know,

That in my pitiful, desperate pleas,

I am only that but of a misfit toy.

Lost among those who cannot be named.

When one has yet to be found,

the wind is a chilly hug--each breath a

solemn reminder of the toiling moment.

But when one is finally found

there is no breath

to breathe of.

I describe it as sitting in a classroom, waiting for a big test, say, the SAT or its equivalent. Or maybe the feeling of knowing something too hot or too cold is going to touch your bare skin - that moment, the one of scared anticipation - that’s how I operate, how I feel, every second of every day.

They ask how they can help. How they can fix it. I sit on my therapist’s couch; it’s made of the kind of leather that is both too worn down and also unexpectedly comfortable. I tell him: too much abuse you can’t fix. I’m looking at the beds of my fingernails, maybe for answers, maybe asking to be left alone to inspect something insignificant. In both cases, I feel I can only help myself, which means I will stay stuck at square one forever. A game of Candyland where you keep spinning and never advance.

Because that’s exactly what it’s like - being trapped. Watching the other players obtain the chocolate fountain! And the lollipop forest! Not that those are actual elements of the game. But the feeling is there, my fear of being left behind as real as the stripes on the candy canes.

I watch others move on in their lives. I’m like an alcoholic, the ones who shake if they don’t have a fifth of vodka with breakfast. I’m shaking. My therapist might suggest breathing exercises, grounding techniques. But I sit, or rather stew, in the grip of something that is demanding something I can’t give it. And the thing is - I don’t know what that is.

Something is wrong. My neuron connections are giving out. I can use all these analogies, give all these examples, but nothing is going to undo years of trauma. And therein lies my problem - to use another analogy, I am Charlie Brown, slouching his shoulders, dragging his backpack across the ground behind him. I am “helpless.“ The “victim.”

I had a waitress once, and when I ordered, she said: “I love that for you.” My therapist is understanding, nods when I complain bitterly about my situation. But it’s not ok. I don’t love that for myself. I can’t afford to be the victim.

Let’s have this come full circle. I’m taking the SAT, and every answer seems to be the wrong one. I look up, raise my hand. The proctor comes over, and instead of helping, slaps my hand down.

I’m not sure if the proctor is me, or my anxiety. We are one, existing in an air-tight world where I’m never advancing, never loving the moment, lost in worry.