A poetry selection: Mouse

**Trigger Warning: suicide, self-harm

 

do you

do you know what its like to always wonder
to always worry
to always fear
to always second guess
to always wander in your mind
do you know what its like to cry because you have
no one
or what its like to want to die because you have
no one
and do you ever wish you had someone
but all you do is avoid everyone

 

 

the note

i didnt realize how bad id gotten
sitting in my car
1:23 am
tears running down my face
like an infinite waterfall
sending silent prayers to anything out there
deciding i wanted it all over
i needed it to stop
while everyone fantasized about their future
i fantasized about my ending
rope
blade
pill
bleach
anything sounded fine
1:37 am
running bath water
writing a note
i find one already written
1:41 am
draining bath water

 

 

Big thanks to Mouse for sharing her work with us. We love being able to share such vulnerable, beautiful poetry like this. Be sure to live some love to Mouse in the comments.

Always remember you are not alone.

You are loved.

Sandra

Want to submit to this site and share your story, art, or article related to mental health? Email wemustbebroken@gmail.com

Follow us for more posts, inspiration and art on Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, and Instagram

dear hope poetry Thoughts An Anonymous Diary: Poems Prose Lyrics and More

I Wear a Mask

It is truly amazing how one person can bend over backwards for the people they love and care about, but only feel the tiniest bit of self-worth.

I am someone who is devoting my life to helping others.

I believe that everyone has purpose.

I put in so much effort to make those around me feel loved and appreciated.

Yet, I wear a mask.

Creative Pieces dear hope

Treasure Map to Confidence

Your insecurities are a treasure map to confidence

Growing up, I was insecure to the point where my insecurities looked like insanity. I took those insecurities and literally shredded them into oblivion, shredding them apart just a little so I could see the light. Just to get a small bit of relief.

Well, the light was strong enough to force much of them away. This was because your insecurities can lead to a unique way of loving yourself, further leading to a different type of story that people want to hear.

Creative Pieces dear hope

Clean House

Worry not, friend, for despite its title, this piece does not detail the pseudo-therapeutic practice of the de-cluttering of the mind (and therefore of the soul) through mindful sorting of writing utensils on one’s desk. This is not an uninformed do-gooder’s letter to the masses written to conjure imagery of a desperate teenager, vacuum in hand, ridding their bedroom carpet of a film of negativity dust with the misguided gospel cluttered room, cluttered mind glaring in red paint from the adjacent wall. No healing could be so simple or immediate. Rather, this is an honest work; it is myself, and that state of being is a rarity in recent days. This is the point, I suppose: that I want to feel something true today. While this goal takes its place in a dizzyingly lengthy queue—such is the curse of the unrealistically ambitious depressive—I will add it nonetheless with the detachedly determined hope that I fulfill it.

Creative Pieces dear hope

Pull the Trigger: song lyrics from Sleep Season’s Christian DiMare

Pull the Trigger

Verse:
When all our questions
jump right out us
and run,
We’ll feel so inspired,
we’ll never feel higher-than-now.
“Watch for suggestion.
New direction,
At once!”
But whispers inside
say, “you’ll trip when you try,”
that amounts.

Chorus:
Take a chance.
Pull the trigger.
No clue what will become,
Nothing’s there to be won
When you wait.
How’d you figure?
Take a chance.
Pull the trigger

Verse:
Time is an essence
Effervescent
And young.
All the more that transpires
Leaves you wilted and tired
While there’s less left to live
To do what you desired.

Chorus:
Take a chance.
Pull the trigger.
No clue what will become,
Nothing’s there to be won
When you wait.
How’d you figure?
Take a chance.
Pull the trigger.
Come to life.

Bridge:
Wonder.
Will what will become.
Make your mark.
Take your time.
No point
In holding on
Tightly to what’s
Left behind.
When world bolsters up,
Then you fight.
It won’t always pay out
On the inside of right.
If you focus too hard
You’ll get stuck on the “what” you’ve defined
In your mind.

Chorus:
Take a chance.
Pull the trigger.
No clue what will become,
Nothing’s there to be won
When you wait.
How’d you figure?
Take a chance.
Pull the trigger.
Come to life.

 

“Pull the Trigger” is a continuation of Identity for me.

Many people loved that song best from our debut, but it was actually my least favorite. I think I finally understand why: It reminds me of the hatred I couldn’t begin to understand behind the eyes of my perfect self/that I still won’t look into. How much it is to disallow what is simply human had become: It wore a face; it had a name; and it was None.

I’m writing this song to try to provide insight into my human experience; if you identify with this, you have a capital Right to that. The moment you deserve is to live a life of your very own. You can be “crazy” in whatever way you choose.

Being gay doesn’t come easy to everybody. It might come to you as a surprise that some people refuse it all their lives. That rush of sex is a forbidden treasure they can’t pursue. Idealogical fear distorts their perception, making them act against their interest (sometimes for good reasons). They’re not the ones you think you know when they’re alone.

“When all our questions…” hints at that moment where you’ve never felt more certain of yourself. It’s a rare feeling when you’re struggling with anxiety because “whispers” flood your mind immediately. Sometimes I award myself my obsessive compulsive neuroses, but some are toxic, like never picking something to pursue. I hope for music and I’m good at math, but never deciding is what kills me, and I know it. Sometimes I make an effort to do both.

An allusion to suicide, “Pull the Trigger” acts as a metaphor for making a strong decision. Coming out for me was the strong decision that changed my life for the better. It meant a change from being what others want for me, to shaping my own identity. I struggle with finding the “who” I want to be. It has its own set of challenges, but it’s better than hiding from who I am.

If you’re ever struck with the feeling that living would be better if something were true, then you should act in the interest of that something; make it so. Don’t give up because you love you when no one else does. Continue because you would miss you in their shoes.

I hope you find that feeling to be something to hold onto.

Happy Pride Month.

 

This song comes from Christian DiMare, the lead singer of Sleep Season and a wonderful new member of our community. We are so happy to end out June, Pride Month, with this submission. Give some love and good words to Christian in the comments!

Always remember you are not alone.

You are loved.

Sandra

Want to submit to this site and share your story, art, or article related to mental health? Email wemustbebroken@gmail.com

Follow us for more posts, inspiration and art on Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, and Instagram.

dear hope Thoughts An Anonymous Diary: Poems Prose Lyrics and More

A selection of poetry: Aisha Arif

Wounds

Just another wound

broken men soldier through life

picking up scars

from broken pasts and broken hearts

but they can’t cry

or speak

society does not permit

gravity to touch their tears

it makes them weak

so they sit mute

fading yet failing to disappear

persist in their hollow drama

whispering their pain to the back of their eyes

their dry eyes

and boiling temper

I look at you confused

my broken man

wondering why you won’t release your stress

and trust the security I offer you

Another wound

my broken man soldiers through life

deeper scars

from a broken past and a broken heart

-a.K.a-

 

 

 

Stay Close

The silence was engulfing, as the people rushed to euphoria-

The blindfold came off, and she saw the fire she was in.

But the sudden realisation as tears streamed down her rosé cheeks

Was one so clear even though her vision was dim

Her mind opened up in that hour of desperation-

She clung to the sheets on the side of the bed

Because the people had left, but she was still under the influence.

A hazy monster inside her head

And in that hour of need when she felt shaken

Suddenly a presence so close she stopped.

In that hour of need it was so blatant

A God existed, he had not forgot

He had not abandoned her even though she had Him

In fact He was there when she was in pain

And in that hour of need it was clear for her to see

What it means that He is closer to you than your jugular vein

-a.K.a-

 

 

Purgatory

It is difficult

To find a place of warmth and coolness

To find a place of no extremes

Of balance

Of joy and sadness

Of constraint and release

It is hard

To become a person stuck in two emotions

Confused and determined

Slow yet fast

But I am that person

Who sleeps whilst awake

Who shouts whilst whispering

But the tears are not seen

And the cries are not heard

So the help does not come

One carries on in this purgatory

-a.K.a-

 

 

Alone.

Watching the world go by through the holy stained glasses

clouded overtime from the mist left by the believing sinners

Alone

Yet reminded that God is ever watching

Ever near

Yet I can’t shake this feeling of being

Alone.

Witnessing happiness

Feigning joy but in seclusion self-mutilating

Resisting urges to give it all in

Give it all up

To Be Alone.

Telling myself I can’t fight anymore

I can’t pretend

Telling myself you can

One step at a time

But telling no-one else

Alone.

Then waking in the early hours of dawn

To confess the sins of the night to the Lord

So close.

-a.K.a-

 

 

Without Sound

Times changed

Days’ turned into months’

Holy times came and persisted.

Then they also came to pass,

but the sadness drenched the soul

deeper and deeper.

What is the use in screaming

when no-one is alive themselves?

Yet a war raged on inside

The battles were long and fierce

but the battles were prohibited from leaving scars.

Sometimes people cannot hear your screams

but they’ll see them etched into you and pretend they were listening all along.

How wrong they are.

Faith remains loyal- even when it dwindles, the spark never truly fades

Even when it rains hard there remains a flicker of honesty

A fire of resilience.

And we hold on

Stuck in this dreary place

Moving with time

-a.K.a-

 

Lightbulb

It is a myth you see

-unattainable here

This notion of so-called peace

Because as I sit here

rocking back and forth

It feels like an abattoir, not ease

The windows are blinded

just like our minds

It’s incredible we all cannot see

The blindfolds are binding

it’s hard to describe it

but the metal shines as it is released

It’s obvious now

as I float to the clouds

back to where it is all started

That it’s a myth you see

-unattainable here

not a world for the fainthearted

-a.K.a-

 

 

Big thanks to Aisha K. Arif for submitting these beautiful poems. For social media, you can find Aisha on Instagram and Twitter. You can also find her on WordPress and MyTrendingStories. Give some love to Aisha in the comments!

All the links to the poetry featured in this post are as follows:
Wounds ; Stay Close ; Purgatory ; Alone. ; Without Sound ; Lightbulb

Always remember you are not alone.

You are loved.

Sandra

Want to submit to this site and share your story, art, or article related to mental health? Email wemustbebroken@gmail.com

Follow us for more posts, inspiration and art on Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, and Instagram.

dear hope Thoughts An Anonymous Diary: Poems Prose Lyrics and More

Moving On: diary entries through the years

Why is it so tough to move on from the people who hurt us the most?

This Summer Sucked, August 2012

If you have been following my life from an older post, you’ll know I transferred to Westfield State in a horrid, fragile state.

That was after the summer that I tried to commit suicide, after an already failed attempt the prior fall at my old school.

Twice. Because once wasn’t good enough. Once did not satisfy the urge.

What did I hope to accomplish at my new school?

Friends.

 

New Beginnings, September 2012

I wanted friends.

I needed friends.

Why did everyone else have so many?

Why was such a simple task becoming so immensely difficult?

In high school, I had a ton of friends.

I always had a boyfriend, or someone interested in filling that position.

I was in five music ensembles and an AP course by senior year.

I was by no means popular but I was queen of the musical-eat-your-lunch-in-the- hallway misfits.

I wasn’t the prettiest girl in school, but I was happy.

I was comfortable.

Maybe that was my first problem.

I made some really great friends at Westfield. I always have to preface that.

But what about the people that didn’t want me?

Why didn’t you want me?

 

End of My First Semester, December 2012

You welcomed me into your group reluctantly; I was your random transfer roommate that you had to learn to deal with.

It is amazing how small a double room in Lammers can become.

But I thought we were friends. I mean, I really thought we were cool…

 

Sophomore Spring, March 2013

…We used to bond over stupid shit, smelly boys, drunken nights.

What happened to the group of girls that once called me a “Westie Bestie?”

Why did I so quickly become the outsider?

The crazy one?

The only one that is still affected, still hurt?

Still putting the pieces back together of what even happened…

 

Spring Weekend, May 2013

Sometimes you girls were mean to each other.

People were divided. Differences in personalities were beginning to emerge.

I didn’t realize that mine was so terrible.

I wasn’t the one that shamed anyone for being different, yet I was constantly being made fun of behind my back.

That should have been my first red flag.

 

Halloween, October 2013

Maybe it was junior year, when boyfriends came into the picture, when friendships were more divided.

Maybe it was the fact that I devoted my friendship to the person that I trusted the most, because she also needed me the most.

Best friend: I stuck by you through so much. I watched you destroy other people. I watched it all.

How is it that present day you is back with all of them, and I am the outsider? I was just doing a duty as a friend.

Why is it like this?

 

Easter Weekend, April 2014

Maybe it was the girl who invited me to her house for a weekend, and then realized an hour into it she wanted nothing to do with me.

I was bullied horrendously through text messages.

You told me I didn’t know how to dress myself.

You told me you would rather be homeless than live with me.

Why is it that she was cool with everyone senior year and I wasn’t?

This should have been the second red flag. Or fourth. Or sixtieth.

Why was this happening to me???

 

Move-In Day, September 2014

I gave up my pride senior year to make my other two roommates happy. At that point, I felt like I could make no one happy.

I lived with two strangers. I did what I had to do to graduate and get by.

I was immersed with a cappella and dance and my other friends that made me so happy.

I avoided my broken home as much as I could.

But at the end of the day, I was lonely.

 

Graduation Day, May 2015

It is graduation day! Is anyone excited to see me?

Why doesn’t anyone want a photo with me?

…Can’t you see me?

 

June 7th, 2017

Especially now, knowing that all of you moved on, I realized the one in that group I was closest to had no actual value for my feelings; it was all a selfish act.

And here I am, still affected, still hurt, still picking up my pieces and wondering what I could have done differently to be better.

Everyone else has moved on now.

Mainly because the situation has no affect them on at all…

…And that should be the biggest red flag of all.

 

 

This piece comes from Stacy Wacks, a community member who has always written about her struggles honestly; this submission is no different. You can read Stacy’s Coping: This Is Who We Are piece, and you can also find her on Instagram. Give some love to Stacy in the comments.

Always remember you are not alone.

You are loved.

Sandra

Want to submit to this site and share your story, art, or article related to mental health? Email wemustbebroken@gmail.com

Follow us for more posts, inspiration and art on Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, and Instagram.

 

Creative Pieces dear hope