More Depressing Poetry
Autumn 2000

I seem to be Mother Confessor/shrink for all my friends. Normally I don't mind at all, but recently several people -a number of which I barely know- decided to join the club. Combined with my own problems and mental issues, I've been overwhelmed a few times. My way of coping is to do dark, depressing poetry and generally appear suicidal. I'm not, but here's some with accompanying thoughts.


Could Die Laughing

Put up a false front; smile, donít you cry,
ĎCause baby, thatís the only way youíre gonna get by.
You can crumble on the inside, fall apart on your own time in the mindís secret places,
So long as right now you can fake those happy, cheerful faces.
Wake up, baby: lifeís a bitch out to grind you down
So give the world a false smile and play the ignorant clown.
Weíre all playing parts,
Pretending to be things we arenít:
Thespians of the world, thatís us alright,
Our true mime selves only let out in the tears of night,
Never daring to let anyone see
Our inner selves, the ďReal Me.Ē
Scared of the truth, a harsh desert sun,
Lying to friends, family, self.... Everyone.

I'm big into not letting my feelings show. This one came up when one of my roommates was going on about her problems, and suddenly came out with a line about how I didn't have that sort of anguish in my life. Considering it'd been a long day after a long night, I was this close to screaming, and I was dying to dissect my problems to her, that really struck a sore spot. I just ended up making some sort of wry, bitter comment, listening to her wrap her problems up, and then went to whine to the comp.


Breaking Point

Keep it tied up inside, it wonít hurt if no one knows
Keep the words silent, lock the pain up in your heart
Smile through the anguish, make sure the pain doesnít show
Remember dear, sticks and stone may break your bones, but words tear your soul apart

But you need to be the strong one, you canít fall apart just yet,
Even though the crisis is over, and youíre dying for a cry,
You still need to help the others; youíre their safety net
They need your strength, they need you to get by

It doesnít matter anymore, what time they need your aid,
They just turn to you, they know that youíll be there
They just donít understand what sort of price you pay
For helping them, for giving a damn, to have the nerve to care.

They all turn to you, they all ask you to lend a hand,
Never wondering how you do it, never wondering that you take the pain
And that you keep it close, tying the pain to yourself with iron bands,
Bands that donít let your own hurt out, even if you feel youíre going insane.

You do not fly on borrowed wings, instead you help the others,
Pushing them skyward when they falter and start to fall
Why do you do it? Spend so much time supporting another
Enough so that you make hardly any progress at all.

It hurts inside, doesnít it? Taking on all those extra loads.
It gives you a frozen soul, burning with pain,
Increasing your own burden, until the pressure simply makes you want to fold
Instead itís creating a glacier of the heart, thatís spouting forth flame.

There doesnít seem to be an out to you, no way to share your pain,
Since you have to be strong for them, you canít be weak for you.
Death is not an option, youíre needed too much to keep them sane
So hide the hurt deep inside, smile falsely, and to thine own self donít be true.

I'll admit it. One of my main problems is I can't go to someone else with my problems. For one, it's MY problem, not theirs. Having been laughed at one too many times for what others see as trivial complaints when to me, it's like the end of the world (can you say "typical, hormonal teen angst?" Even so, it left scars), and I'm not about to invite that. For another, I know how it is to have people come up and ask for help. I don't like doing that in return. There's not really anyone I feel comfortable enough with to do that. And again, the trivialzing... I'm scared of that part.


Need is Mangled by Restraint

They say they need me to be the strong one,
And somehow I became psychologist to the whole fucking world.
They ask me to listen
And since I do they never hear my own screams.
They ask me to watch.
And since I do they never see my tears, my pain, my lust.
They say they need me to be the strong one.
They never see how weak I really am.

Theyíve placed me on a pedestal
And itís labeled ďHeart Healer, Mind Soother.Ē
They tell me their problems
And since I counsel, theyíre never notice when I start my fall.
They ask my advice
And since I tell them, they never realize how much I need their wisdom.
Theyíve placed me on a pedestal.
They donít seem to realize how badly the plaster is starting to crack.

They are my friends.
I trust them with my life.
But somehow, my heart and mind seem toíve been lost somewhere along the way.

I don't really feel this way, not often, at least. Oh, yeah, the bits about shrink to the world and the pedestal, but not the ones about them being oblivious.... Most of the time. ::sighs:: This one screams about my issues. Too damn insecure about my self worth when it comes to counseling people, deathly afraid that someday - for the day that WILL eventually come when I say the wrong thing and hurt whoever it is ten times worse. And again, I'm really beginning to think I need someone to talk to, but it always seems to descend into whining, and I don't want to put a friend through that. Fear of failure, fear of intimacy.... God, it amazes me when people think I'm well adjusted. I just hide my issues really, really deep.

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