I know that it's been weeks... and it's technically not Tuesday anymore. Sorry!

Title: This Move Is Difficult
Word Count: 141
Story Notes: I wrote this a few months ago, back when we were talking about moving to Oregon. I don't actually think my mom plans on leaving New York any more, but we are going to Portland next Tuesday to check things out. The thing is, I want to leave New York - but it's so damn hard thinking of all the things I'll have to leave behind. It makes me sick when I consider how much I have to give up if I really want to be free of this damn state.

I’ve got a new haircut

I can’t stop touching it

I love the way she cuts my hair

I give her free reign

It comes out amazing every time

Soon I’ll leave New York

Soon I’ll have to find someone else

To cut my hair

I know it doesn’t seem like much

But it feels like a lot

I’m tired but can’t sleep

My mind keeps racing

I’ve been told I have to choose wisely

What I will bring when we leave

What does that mean?

Do I need to shed every bit of my old life?

My books, my records, my movies

All left in New York

Nothing but me in Oregon

If we even go to Oregon

Mom has a fickleness about her

And I’m only moving because of her

I’m having second thoughts about leaving

Don’t tell anyone

I'm posting a bit early because I don't want to forget later.

Title: At Night, I die
Word Count: 83
Story Notes: Another poem I wrote during one of my really bad times. I like this one; it's sad, but it contains hope... kind of.

At night, I die

Only to be born again in morning

The warmth of the sun

Brings life back to my body

Alive at least, I cry out in pain

Such agony in life

That I cannot be thankful in its return

Fleetingly, I wish for death

For oblivion

I ponder my existence

And wonder if existing in pain is better

Than not existing at all

I choose to exist

I live in pain

I exist in pain

And at night, I die

Less Than Shadows

Title: Less Than Shadows
Word Count: 58
Story Note: The thing about depression is that sometimes you just get so freaking lost. Like you'll never find your way out of this dark fog. That you'll never be able to be yourself again because that person is gone. That the world is going to end. That's what this is about.

Lying in my bed at night

I get the strangest feeling that

The day will never come again

The moon is hidden in thick fog

It shines no light into my room
The world outside is less than shadows

I remember being told

That the stars would guide me home
But I’m already home and still so lost

I need help

My page view counter says that people actually come to this blog (but no one ever subscribes or comments?) so I'm just going to post this here.

https://www.giveforward.com/fundraiser/93l2/life-saving-depression-treatment

I am in desperate need of help funding a life saving treatment for my depression. I have been going to treatments for 3 weeks and they seem to be working, but they cost $400 out of pocket for each one and I go 5 days a week. My mom is paying for them with the money she has put aside for her old age.  Even if you can’t afford to donate, sharing this would be awesome. Please help me get the word out. I need this treatment. I have been suicidally depressed for years and TMS is saving my life.

Any donation will help or, if you can't afford it just sharing it to friends or on a social network would be awesome.

If you have Tumblr, this is the link for the current post http://newslang06.tumblr.com/post/53859250202/help-support-life-saving-depression-treatment

Thank You.

I missed a week again. Sorry!

Title: Tonight The Moon

Word Count: 47

Story Notes: A few years ago, weeks before I had a nervous breakdown, I had done an internship at a nursing home in the Bronx. At the end of the week, someone was coming to pick me up. I sat in the waiting room bored out of my mind and maybe a little melancholy that what had turned out to be a great week had ended. I wrote this poem there. 

Tonight the moon was beautiful

Now it’s hidden behind clouds

At one time there were stars here

But they've all twinkled out

At sunset the air was warm

Now icy wind has blown

And all my friends have gone to sleep

And left me all alone 

Oh man! It's been a month. Oops.

Title: Empty
Word Count: 74
Story notes:  Another poem about symptoms of my depression. I quite like this one.

I’m cold and empty

Nothing more than

A lonely shadow

It’s the greatest pain

One so familiar

The feeling of feeling

Nothing at all

It settles deep

Within my being

It weighs heavy

Against my soul

Nothing there

But everything, all the same

Bottled up

Struggling to break free

Sometimes I scream

Into my pillow

I don’t want anyone

To hear my pain

The pain of nothing

Of being cold

And very, very empty

Title: Of Rain And Work

Word Count: 111

Story Notes: Another poem written about my job. It eats away at me constantly but I can't exactly find a way that I can quit. 

It’s raining tonight

I thought I’d be asleep by now

Just a few hours ago,

My eyelids were so heavy

But sleep evades me yet again

The rain is a constant noise

The air inside is chilled

This house is never the right temperature

Always too hot or too cold

She groans from her bedroom

She loves to complain

I don’t think she really needs anything

She just wants to know that someone cares

I can sympathize

Maybe that’s why I haven’t quit

If it were warmer, I’d love to go out in the rain

It’s freeing to stand there and let it downpour around you

I could use freeing tonight

Title: Louise Is Sleeping
Word Count: 55
Story Notes: Another work related poem

Louise is sleeping

For once, the house is at peace

I ate too much

The blueberries tasted like mold

Despite the fullness in my belly,

I feel sleep coming

I know the moment I close my eyes

She’ll be up and needing attention

My job doesn’t allow for much sleep

Maybe I should change careers

Totally missed last week. Oops.

Title: Shadows And Fog
Word Count: 77
Story Notes: Something happened to me last week that nearly sent me spiraling to suicide. This is something that came from that darkness.

Today the world’s in fog

The colors seem so muted

When I told my mother my suspicions

Her eyes filled with tears

She looked straight at me

And she did nothing to assure me

That my assumptions were wrong

My whole life I’ve tried

To get blood from this stone

A fruitless task, I realize now

And coming to terms

With this thing I now know

Has cast me deep

Into a world of shadows and fog

Title: Lucinda Dreams
Word Count: 270
Story Notes: I wrote this yesterday. It probably could use some sprucing up, but I kind of like it the way it is. It's 8am and I haven't slept and but I tried to do a quick once over to make sure that everything makes sense.

Lucinda had a dream. She found herself in the home of her childhood. Everyone was there. Everyone who was long dead sat at the kitchen table; Mom had had made her famous meatloaf. In her dream, they had all been aged. Grant would be close to graduating high school. He wore glasses, their lenses thick black. His clothes stylish, his pants tight; her baby brother was a hipster. He laughed when she told him so.

Dad told a story from work. He had been promoted last month. Soon, he said, he would be bringing home the big bucks. Maybe they could go on a trip this summer; Mom looked wistful and told them how much she wanted to go back to Key West.

A loud crash sounds in the apartment next door. Lucinda is pulled roughly from her dream into reality. A reality where they never went to Key West and Grant never made it out of middle school, where Dad had never been promoted and Mom’s famous meatloaf recipe had burned up in the fire that took their lives. They were all dead.  And yet, the dream had felt so real. Almost like she had entered into a world where her life had never come crashing down around her.

                Lucinda closed her eyes and thought of her family. She remembered the smell of Mom’s cooking. She remembered the sound of Grant’s voice and the feel of Dad’s arms around her as he held her tight.  Slowly it started to come back to her. She smiled as she drifted off.

Lucinda dreams. And when morning comes, she doesn’t wake up. 

Title: Insomnia
Word Count: 76
Story Notes: A poem about my horrible insomnia. I'll try and write a short story for next week. I feel like I've been updating with too many poems lately.

When I was in middle school,

I used to fall asleep around midnight

When I was in high school,

It was closer to one

Then it was two

But never much worse than that

I can’t sleep

I don’t sleep until nearly 6am

And that’s on a good day

Last night I didn’t sleep at all

I fell asleep at 10am today

I’m always so tired, so why can’t I sleep?

The insomnia is getting worse

Jumbled Thoughts

Title:  Jumbled Thoughts
Word Count: 84
Story Notes: So... I haven't updated in 2 weeks. Oops. Another poem I wrote at work. Just trying to get some thoughts out.

Lonely, I sit here

In a bed that’s not my own

I wonder if my life

Is on the right track

Is this job

The job that I was meant to have

Is this life
The life that I was meant to lead

Time goes by

Everything changes

Nothing for the better

I feel my sanity slipping through my fingers

I can’t remember the last time
I felt confident about the future
I can’t remember the last time
I knew everything would be okay

Cry

Title: Cry
Word Count: 103
Story Notes: I wrote three poems at work this past weekend. They're all kind of bits of jumbled thoughts. I love them. This is one of those poems.

Cry now

Your eyes fill

The tears slip down your cheeks

The sobs are choking

The pain

The sadness

The very act of crying makes your heart ache

Life has been a dream

That turned into a nightmare

Love is overwhelming

Time is fleeting

The years are growing shorter

They fly by in an instant

Time cannot heal

When there is not enough time to go around

Your body shakes with anguished heaves

You cry so hard that you start to laugh

A bitter sound

Contains no joy

You laugh so hard that you cry again

And cry for days

And never stop

A Movie's Being Made

Title: A Movie's Being Made
Word Count: 45
Story Notes: Observational poetry.

Jeans tucked into black boots

A girl that I don’t know

The trees don’t have their leaves yet

It doesn’t feel like spring

The air is sharp and biting

The grass is cool and damp

The sky is grey with rainclouds

A movie’s being made

The Death Of Venus

Title: The Death Of Venus
Word Count: 174
Story Notes: I had this little drabble in an old notebook. I liked the concept, so I re-worked and re-wrote it.

A radio was playing softly; an old rounded contraption covered in dried blood. A hand, stained red, reached up and gently caressed the wooded surface. It turned the knobs and increased the volume. This was the best part. The pitch of the violins rising mournfully; they could almost make you cry out in pain, they were so beautiful.

The red streaks scattered over the hand-me-down music player stood out in fascinating contrast to the pale wood. It needed to be cleaned. A sob broke from a throat already too cracked from crying. The music, once so calming was no longer doing the trick.

The deed had been done. There was no way to turn back time. No way to right what had been wronged so violently last night. The violins cut suddenly. The song had ended. This was it. With a click, the hand turned off the radio.

There was a deep breath and green eyes finally looked back the bloody mess that had once been a person.

Venus lay dead on the floor.  

Tittle: Dark
Word Count: 94
Story Notes: This is pretty recent. It's also pretty much raw feelings. I suffer from horrible depression and anxiety. It keeps me up at night.

The dark seeps through

It pierces the flesh

Settles deep inside my mind

It tells me horrors

And lies and truth

All designed to force surrender

And deep inside

This traitorous brain

The thoughts are turning darker still

My very skin crawls with hate

For this pitiful creature I’ve become

Everything but the darkness is gone

The night  

Will soon be nothing more than a faded dream

Another day lived in groggy anxiety

Sleep would help tomorrow go smoother

But sleep will not come

Can’t sleep in the light, can’t sleep in the dark

I Am

Tittle: I Am
Word Count: 103
Story Notes: I wrote this poem 8 or so years ago. Back in High School. I probably would have done a few things different if I were to re-write it, but I kind of like it the way it is.

I am the knife that pierces her skin.
I am her lust, her secrets, her sin.
I am the reason she flinches from touch.
I am her tears when she's had far too much.
I am the life that she hides from her friends.
I am the gun that she chose for her end.
I am her hand as she writes her last prose.
I am her fear in this death that she chose.
I am her eyes widened in shock.
I am her scream, heard 'round the block.
I am the dirt that covers her grave.
I am her life, taken away.

I'm not dead. I swear!

It's been over a year since I posted anything here. Um. Hi all two followers! I'm going to try and start this up again. For now, I'll go with once a week for an update. Okay. Cool.