1 in the morning

A little sympathy

Wouldn't do you no harm.

Don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about

You've been here before

You've felt this way

Yet you just walked in with that smug smile on your face

Like the world was your oyster

When I know there are nights

Where you feel like the world

Definitely is not your oyster

It isn't even your clamshell

And drowning in the despair of distances

Marked by men that fed you to the fire

Of their burning passionate hearts

Doesn't seem to ring a bell anymore.

What a pity.

Because walking in

Seeing me

Curled in a ball

Precisely where you had been

Is not an association you long to devise

But a terror that you brush past

According to your own wishes.

I don't want to be babied.

But just a simple acknowledgement of my sorrow

Of my pain

Of my recluse

That you have indeed known

Would have been nice.

Instead of the demeanor on your face

Showing that you plainly think yourself higher than the others

T'would have been nice to see a small smile

Showing you care.

But I guess I was wrong about you

For maybe you fooled me all along

And maybe I was the one who always gave in to the sympathy. 

19

18 was the worst year of my life. 19 is proving to be just as bad. The one thing that I've learned from living is that the older you are, the harder life gets. I have not figured out the balance between doing too much and doing too little. I am constantly overwhelming myself to no avail, leading to more nights when I snap, where I'm found sobbing in my bed or on the floor in contrast to the rational thoughts in my mind saying that there's no reason for me to feel like this; I could be utilizing my day much more than I am now. So I keep trying to train myself to do more, to work at my maximum potential all the time. I see it not working, and I try to take breaks to destress but apparently that does not work. Life keeps building its own walls around me, and as much as I try to break through them, the building materials keep getting stronger, from wood to concrete, from concrete to steel. I don't know how to ---------do anything, it seems. Maybe if I let them keep building around me they will finally completely enclose me. Sealing me from the harsh realities of the outside world. My roommate wrote a blog post a couple of days ago about how she was thankful for the worst times in her life because they teach her to appreciate the best ones. I am no where near as strong minded or mentally aware as she is. I am NOT thankful for these rough seas that sink every ship I try to build…and not even a ship, I piece together the most flimsy board or the strongest cruise ship, all of them sink. And the older I get, the more ships I build. And the more ships I build, the more they sink. I am not hopeless in this life. But nights like these show me what it's like to feel hopeless..like the whole world is working against you and then you remember something you've forgotten and are afraid to show that you've failed in some way. Everybody fails, that facet of life remains true, but what we don't realize is that we have to accept our failures and I am not ready to do that. I don't want to show others what I've done wrong, because it is never graceful, it is never honest, it never puts me in a better light. Every mistake I've made weighs on me like the pounds put on Jean Valjean's back. But I don't feel like I'm ever released from my time. People always tell you that things get better, but right now, from how old I am, 19 years and 2 days old, things have not gotten better. I can't imagine they will at this moment. I try to believe they will, I attempt to do things like they will…but I guess I have to just wait and see what the future holds. Maybe in the next 19 years of my life I'll have a different perspective. But I just feel like if I keep going at this pace for the next 19 years in my life I'll be dead before the clock reaches the end.