Depression

Nothing but a Fable

Happily ever after doesn’t exist.

Not when people like you also exist.

I bought myself a new suit of armor so you don’t drive another knife in my back.

I told the vendor to hold the stallion because human legs were never for aesthetic purposes.

 

I wanted to walk the face of the Earth with you using my own.

We would’ve walked more than a thousand miles together to chase the sun and avoid the night.

And I never needed to worry about my tired legs.

They built up a tolerance from walking in the coastal sand and helping me keep up with dirty dishes.

 

I told you about my demons and how quickly I am to care when I’m shown an act of kindness.

Mother always lectured me that no matter how small they may be, they are never in vain.

But there is such a thing as being too kind. There is such a thing as temptation.

The best of us cave in once, twice, or maybe more than that when we write in our diaries.

 

You were like such a book to me and I trusted you, but never did I expect that you’d defile my soul

By persuading me to partake in activities that I would never in my right mind do.

I should have recalled the fable of a girl who trusted a poltergeist that haunted a similar diary.

Had I not flee the moment I saw your true character, I would have joined her in death.

 

Looking back, I understand that diaries are the keys to starting fires and turning innocents into fugitives.

You can try with all your might to pry my mouth open to get me to spill any more beans

But my lips are staying sealed because I know who you really are and I finally learned my lesson.

You never exposed me. You only leaked a chapter that was part of a book you never read.

 

So why bother showing it to you knowing that my real friends and family will be endangered as well?

I know that a deluded man gambled away so much ammo to the vipers that he became a trainwreck.

I swear on my recurring nightmares that any answers to your questions will be used against me.

Truth and justice is a concept invented by people and after all, people do make mistakes.

 

God bless the right to remain silent.

Because even the condemned understand that its value supersedes a vault of gold

That the draconian blackjack dealers steal from the poor that desire to play with them.

Where was Robin Hood when I needed him most?

 

Flash forward to a single year and I’m now twenty-five with an art degree in hand.

I’ve spent all that time studying my ass off and avoiding the vipers that plague my past.

I was with my true friends who never give a shit about your deceit when I realized I never needed you.

Preparing for financial exams under the tutelage of a bright mathematician was like you never existed.

 

So the next time you see me, I won’t grovel on the pavement begging you to take me back.

Instead, I’ll look the other way and French kiss my new admirer in front of you.

Just to let you know that I changed for the better and you missed out on the life we could’ve had.

I am fortunate to understand that your absence last summer turned out to be a blessing in disguise.

 

I dare you to call me an idiot again!

I dare you to call me a chicken!

I dare you to say that I’m going down

While you hide behind the blackjack dealers that love you for show!

 

There’s always someone out there willing to give you a taste of your own medicine anyway.

How did it feel when even Discordia didn’t want anything to do with you?

Was it salty and sour like your attitude and your deceit?

Cavities caused by the consumption of these candies are a pain for dentists to fill.

 

And just like that, you disappeared from the face of the Earth again. Hopefully, for good this time.

You can erase your identity from the world, but you cannot erase the marks your venom left behind.

You may still be on my mind from time to time, but I don’t see you in a virtuous light anymore.

You are nothing but a fable.

I Am Never Alone

You’ve done it again. You’ve done it again, mate.

You went back on your word when you promised you’d stick with me in the long run.


Even if our passion moved far too quickly at first.

Before it simmered down to give us time to intercept our demons.

 

It should’ve been the other way around.

In an age where I can’t see your face nor can I hold your hand,

 

It’s become a force of habit that I wish I could stop partaking in.

I love too quickly because I am a freak scared of being molded into something I’m not.

 

Regardless of my desire, I still have to know what goes on in your own life.

That either excites you, scares you, angers you, saddens you, and soothes you.

 

I’d have to appreciate you before my infatuation gets the better of me and it evolves into love.

I never planned to stop caring even after finding out your weight was dangerously high.

 

I was reassured that you planned to take care of yourself, but you never knew that.

You didn’t know what to do nor what to say when I didn’t find out about your size sooner.

 

You didn’t want to shove me away, but you did.

You didn’t want to hurt me, but you did.

 

You said you were interested in me, but you weren’t.

You said you weren’t in it for short-term happiness, but you were.

 

All because you turned your back on me when I was willing to keep you tight regardless.

You are such a damn fraud that vies for a sugar bowl that I am fighting tirelessly to keep.

 

How many sorries does it take to screw in a lightbulb?

I could let you know when you get it to turn on.

But how can I notify you if you severed ties with me?

Since you ran away, an apology is as empty as your soul.

 

You turned out to be just like your exes and here I am, telling you, “Fuck your love quest.”

It’s not like you’re going to take it again anytime soon nevertheless.

 

Lonely pieces of crap only want to love when they wish for an early death.

Were you trying to gasp for air when the ocean took away your breath?

 

If you’re still wondering why you’ll never find love, I’ve got bad news for you.

The way you made my heart beat for you until you made a crack in it is the answer to your question.

 

You may never know this about me because I don’t always realize it myself.

But when I embrace a soul whose loyalty and compassion is unbreakable,

 

I realize that I am never alone.

They may face obstacles and heartaches of their own, but they never let them tear them apart.

 

One day, I’ll find love of my own and I continue to pray that it will be as true as my friendships.

What a shame that you’ll never see that I am never alone.

Abandoned Child

Folder: 
Poetry

My brother died,

And in his place;

I was born,

But I was repelled.


My mother threw me from the table,

Abused me, both mind and body.

My father never present,

And if so, he ignored me.


They left each other fast,

'Cause mother was a lesbian.

But my father needed a woman,

For his children and as a housewife.


The second was quite alright,

Even if she made me eat axis.

Only my sister I couldn't see,

That became off limits.


After years they had their divorce,

And then came the third, the most terrible.

My wicked stepmother,

The greatest dictator.


She tried to strangle my brother,

Then father did interfere.

She put me in the sanitarium,

With false motives, my fear.


Firstly in a crisis-centra,

'Cause I ran away from home.

Then in the sanitarium,

Where I for six months did roam.


In the sanitarium,

Provided with medication.

By which I lost my memory,

Crawling in the emptiness of chaos...


Regularly I suffered blackouts,

By which I saw nothing.

Not knowing what I did,

Much like sleep-walking;

And strange vistas occurred.


I wasn't suffering delirium,

Is what the doctors told.

So all this time,

I was in the asylum for no reason.


Then I had to go to boarding-school,

Where I developed something bad: anger.

I wanted to kill another, a female;

And Nyarlathotep, I am sorry;

Maybe I didn't wanted to commit this act,

But I had to from Satan...


What happened was unforeseen,

'Cause my room was now aflame.

The building completely in axis,

The police came to arrest me.


A year and a half in prison,

Locked away in a cell, in Hell.

A year and a half terror,

The bondage of society.


When I got out, there was another project,

Named room-training.

I had to work in a factory,

But that didn't end well...

I started to mutilate myself,

Which I learned in the sanitarium.

They send me to the hospital,

To the psychiatric division.


Then again to the crisis-centra,

Which I didn't liked at all.

As if I had to start over,

I couldn't take it anymore.


Through the open door I escaped,

And from my last money;

I buyed a train-ticket,

Which brought me to Ramses.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The first part of my biography.

Me on Who I am and the Fear of a Commitment (Short Essay)

Folder: 
Short Essays

As I watch “Spider Man – Far From Home” – I think to myself how Spider Man is just your “neighborhood spider man” as Peter Parker states and he seems to not wanting to be a popular guy like Tony Stark was….

 

Then I got myself thinking… as I was people on Instagram, Facebook, YouTube, TikTok, etc... (just to name a few social media outlets) … I see constantly several people to become “Insert Social Media Outlet” Famous.

 

As a kid, yea, I wanted to be well known, popular, named for something that I may have done.  But each time, my anxiety hits me as I grow older.  And now that I am in my 40s, I continue seeing this.  People say I am good at ____, while says I am a strange/weird/creep guy (or something else along those lines).

 

Which then leads me to more anxiety and/or depression.  Sometimes it makes me wonder if I really want to be “TikTok” Famous (and on YouTube as well), have a TikTok Crush/Wife/Husband or something… because I constantly see always people that have TONS of time into making videos and make me wonder where they fit all this into.  Where as me with two jobs…  I am just a ‘plain joe’ (if that is what you want to call it) with no extra time, money, or specialty into making some of these awesome videos people create.

 

I do have friends who are indeed “TikTok Famous” and they are awesome people, but what gets me upset is that they are mostly women… Men these days is what ruins a good “romance” for people.  Most are perverted desperate beings who enjoy simply sending women D* Pictures… do they even think before acting thinking that the women will enjoy it or are, they just horny individuals who just want all women no matter their race?  These type of men (and some women too) are what disgust me about the human race when it comes to Human Interacting/Social Lives (excluding Religion, Politics, and the Environment because those are a whole different world in my book).

 

Have people lost track on how to become courtesy any more to one another?  When it comes to driving (turn signals), giving ladies the pass first (even if I have been called “sexist”… uh????), being patient to one another, saying “thank you, you are welcome”, “sir, ma’am, miss, buddy, folks, ladies because people clearly do not know how to formally present them selves to people the old fashion way (which I cringe each time people say, “Hey Guys” or “Ya’ll” (sorry Texan Friends).. I just do not think that is proper English.

 

But that is all getting away from the main point here…

My point here is that simply and I just am a “simple joe” and nothing else… I really do not want to get big famous, or any kind of famous; I just want to be known for something that I am good at instead of being called weird names, negativity on me, etc (because as an adult, I know I have become a victim of it where people have talked to me behind my back… they may think I just “brush” it off, but what they do not think of is what lays within me and how much it shatters me.  Even if I try to hide it from every one.

 

Getting off topic again about life…. What eats me up all the time is all the crushes I got on people and yet I cannot tell any of them  (some know who they are, other do not know, while others I am unsure about, but unknown if I want them to know or not... some are in Mexico, others are in New Jersey, Texas, or even not only in other States of the USA, but also in other countries as well... and also different ages from mid-20s to mid-40s) that I like them because I feel that will ruin my friendship and be placed in the “Friendzone”… That is the sucky part of life (I understand).  But for someone to stop talking to me because I entered that “Friendzone” makes me wonder if they were really ever a good friend to me or not.  Because I know as of lately, I have pushed some of them away a little over the course of years, months, and even weeks… so I am also part of that guilt too.  So makes me to differ, were they really worth telling these people or was it really not to and to keep it as a secret instead.  Some of these are all part of the Mysteries of Life!  Sometimes I want to go with my gut feeling and accept denial.  But other times I really do not want to and just accept the answers to life knowing that I already know the answer as well, even if I do not know the answer unless asked.  But at the same time makes me rather be placed in the “Friendzone” and then be forgotten as I have been so many times. And I move on with my life to a better me.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Since I am entering my 40s, I ponder more about Life these days as I continue my single Life... Sometimes I want to be with someone to die old with, but sometimes I am afraid of commitment and living the single life...   Which is why my latest poem and this short essay reflect on my well being of myself.  And trying to keep myself as healthy as possible too.

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Dramatic tunes

Dramatic tunes play in my mind

as I wait in bed for your replies

Took a trip, tried to listen to

A Brief Inquiry Into Online Relationships

But boy, I really should take note

that 1975 was never the year

that the internet was born 

then lives got weird

 

Dramatic tunes swirl in my mind

Nauseating and mesmerizing, all at once

I trace all the pieces I could find

to draw the image that may resemble you

and draft the letters I could think of

but never would I send to you

 

Dramatic tunes leech on my mind

Trying to design my last demise

The nothingness on their side,

churning violence all coincide

 

Dramatic tunes play in my mind 

As I wait for your replies 

The darkness would soon arrive

here and hear my last goodbye

The flock of crows are closing in

Floating just three feet above

But then I feel my eyes flinch

As the phone buzzed

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A poem about the anxiety you have when you're not sure someone's still interested of you or not anymore. 

Birthday Blues

I was born 41 years ago today, 

A waste of life is what it's been.

I've never felt so worthless, I wish I didn't feel this way. 

It's true though. I've never been good enough for anyone, 

I'm a horrible mother and the worst girlfriend you could imagine. 

Life as me isn't much fun. 

I wish I could throw these feelings out the door. 

Find sunshine among the darkness and gloom 

Smile and laugh once more. 

But it all feels so pointless right now. 

Like I'll never smile again

I wish I Weren't a coward somehow

I'd make all this pain go away. 

I'd bite the bullet and grab a gun

And never see another birthday. 

 

Money is One Heck of a Stimulant

Your deceit has polluted the rivers near your villages.

The very rivers that its people rely on for drinking water.

A sip of that poison ignites a plague that turns friends into foes and kin into fugitives.

But where is the antidote? Why do your people continue to fall ill?

It is locked away along with the fortune you made from the production of your deceit.

Money is one heck of a stimulant.

 

I’ve been away for a long time to know why I’ve been wrong before.

I had beat a dead horse and gave CPR to two that had cancer.

I should have known that it was not worth it if the doctors were not going to help treat it.

I was an ignoramus. They have all the knowledge that the world had to offer.

So why not share it with the ambitious and give new life to these once noble steeds?

Money is one heck of a stimulant.

 

I long reminisced about a time when the doors were open to tons of villagers with potential.

It was a world that I wanted to be a part of since I was a guppy not yet exposed to mathematics.

A potato infected by a blight and stabbed me warned me that the chief doctors were monsters.

A poor surgeon who tried repeatedly to receive a raise vanished, was slandered, and never seen again.

A coordinator found a shady message in her contract that forbade arbitration and fled to another kingdom.

And I recently heard that the one coquettish nurse was expelled over scrutiny from her personal life.

Why, Dr. Kim? Why do you egg your personnel to choose sides when there are lives that need rescuing?

Can’t we all get along and lay down our weapons? It’s easier to negotiate than to wage war, but no.

Money is one heck of a stimulant.

 

People lose their minds when they fall in love. It’s not just me. It’s a fact of life.

I lost mine to a mongrel who shut me out after a few months and lied directly to my face.

A good friend that I had regretfully wronged had given the doctors the deceit that tainted the rivers.

A clever herbalist that craves drama knows how to brew tainted water to make it appear crystal clear.

Not everyone knows that making up stories to sweep malpractice under the rug is a gold mine.

Money is one heck of a stimulant.

 

The coachman that brought me to this place can call me a whiny little boy if his mood fits.

Just like the kid who offered sage advice to the chief doctors on how to break down barriers.

But that judges the coachman's character more than mine.

It’s an fyi that looks terrible just because he’s wearing it.

But hey, why bother listening to advice that’s more expensive than one’s pride?

The doctors’ salaries are too low for them to spare a dime to make that change.

That’s why there’s never room for improvement nor for sharing in their greedy hearts.

Money is one heck of a stimulant.

 

I am terribly sorry that your folks never taught you that what goes around comes around.

That your hidden crimes will come back to bite you when you too become penniless.

When you one day get a taste of your own poison when you drink the river you tainted.

What does your life have in store for you afterwards? Can you sleep at night again?

Will people still care when the doctors go their separate ways? What about the pollution in the river?

I will not return to the filth you created to clean it because in the end, the deceit would be even worse.

To change your practice for the better was my greatest wish until I found out how unethical you are.

Now it is to build a fortune of my own so the artist that my heart beats for can have a bite to eat.

That is the change that you will never see because you are too comfortable smoking the dough you baked.

Money is one heck of a stimulant.

Burn & Blaze

Folder: 
Shift Up

 

The clock ticks across the waves of time,

I count them, watch them, wishing I could 

change the course of time,

Crest, trough. Rise, sink. Tide in. Tide out.

 

I fell from the cliff into the waters below,

freezing, sinking; the roots I had gone.

All things blurred; salt steeping into wounds,

I'm a relic of an era long gone. 

 

And I can't turn back time. 

 

The storm rages on and I suffocate

in the depths, dark and deep, 

dislodged out of time, 

days gone. Dimmed. 

 

And I can't turn back time. 

 

A pyre, past lit, 

A catalyst to combust or

A path, of possibilities, of 

probabilities. 

 

Time consumes, the tide comes.

 

The fire within, held close and tight,

The only thing to keep warmth, 

Stare at the fiery beacon, 

and learn to yield the inferno. 

 

Don't let the flame consume you, 

Lest it burn you back to the depths,

Don't the fire go out,

Lest time claims you forever. 

 

Mimic the light in the distance,

so far gone and stolen away,

To a place that cannot see backwards,

But still a beacon for pathfinders,

 

And I'll use time instead. 

 

Burn, contort, shape, and meld

the future to your will, and 

blazing into the future is now 

all I can do. 

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Hopeless and Denial

Folder: 
Short Essays

Hopeless and Denial

3/17/2019

 

Afraid,

Hopeless,

Fear.

 

Afraid to accept being single,

Scared of growing old alone,

Scared of getting screwed,

Hopeless that I am alone.

 

Who am I?

Why am I here?

 

I still ponder these words and phrases each day.

 

Sometimes I want to start again,

Other days I just want to be crazy stupid,

While the rest I want to get drunk.

 

Again, I ask myself,

Who am I?

Why am I here?

 

I see all my friends having loved ones, marriage, pregnant, etc… and then I see myself sitting here and not living my life to the fullest.

I try to update my online profiles or at least have a gal to notice me;

But then I re-read myself and I am sure every woman has heard all of the cheesy pick up lines all the men have told them… and I simply give up.

There have been days I simply have wanted to give my number to a coworker (or as theirs) or even more to a customer… But I feel stupid in doing so and become shy about my approach.  Because I am too afraid of denial.

 

As I always mention…

Who am I?

What do I want?

Why am I here?

 

I know try too much… I always have and I know women “sense” that… but do they also sense of how hopeless I truly am?  I do not want pity from them or sympathy; but I do pity myself all too much into denying on who I am.

 

I always tell my friends and coworkers… that they are always Number 1 just below my Family and that I am Number Two; but in reality, I am Number Five in my book… always last and never first.

 

Almost each night I cry myself to sleep… where sometimes I just want to spin myself in drinks and get drunk who knows where.

 

They always say that the “quiet” ones are the ones one should fear most; but sometimes the most talkative ones can be just as bad because they are afraid of being judge.

 

A long time ago, I accept that I am constantly talked about behind my back.  Especially at my age since of the job I currently do.. But that hasn’t stopped me on who I am nor will it ever!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is a compile between a poem & a short essay

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