Subconscious Thoughts

It’s ironic to me

that everyone pokes the bear when they meet me. They wanna know why I’m so quiet.

But appear as if I have so much to say.

Constantly asking why I’m always in my head,

or what I’m thinking.

So they be-friend me,

and then pry.

A lot of them don’t even realize what they’re doing. Men think it’s mysterious

or some stupid shit along those lines.

Somewhere along the lines

they realize it’s not sexy,

it’s not mysterious,

I’m not this person who they love ,

want to love ,

or think they can love.

I’m sad,

broken,

angry,

fearful,

hurt,

shameful,

abandoned,

and more.

The worst quality though,

I’ve become so co-depending

on these people who wanna “save me”

or that can’t love me,

that I’ve lost myself.

I’m so worried about what everyone thinks.

I’m constantly searching for approval.

Jesus Christ I can’t make a post,

send a text,

wear an outfit,

talk to someone ,

or even make a life changing decision

like getting clean,

without someone’s approval.

Anyone’s approval.

The first stranger I see

when I occasionally leave the house,

how they look at me,

what I imagine that they think of me,

decides how I feel about myself

the rest of the time I’m out in public.

I wasn’t always this way,

but damn have things built up over time.

What people don’t realize

about their “save her” complex ,

is that they don’t really want any part,

in helping me get better.

They just wanna save someone,

they don’t care who.

But, it’s better than the ones who have no intention of truly giving me the love I deserve.

The love I desperately need.

They want someone there for them

who understands the hard times and won’t leave. That’s where I come in.

I know pain and sadness so well I could write a book. What all these people have failed to realize

is that with or without them I will be sad.

Because if I’m being completely honest,

after so much bad shit happening,

that's all I know how to be.

The truly upsetting part about that is,

not everyone is like me.

By that I mean they bounce back rather quickly.

They move on, start going out again,

karaoke,

dancing,

mingling,

clubbing,

having fun.

Anything to make them feel alive again.

To be happy and enjoy themselves.

Here’s the catch,

when they start living again,

they don’t want that sad girl around.

Especially not when they know she can’t do it.

Stop being sad,

stop hating herself,

worrying about what others are thinking,

or just live.

The part about suicide

I think a lot of people don’t understand is,

you can’t save anyone but yourself.

You can’t make someone wanna live.

Most young women at some point

look forward to their wedding day,

I’ve imagined my funeral since about middle school.

A husband sounded nice,

but never really saw that happening for myself.

Kids sounded nice,

and lord knows I wanted my own,

but that’s for a later story.

What car they’ll drive,

a house,

a career!

I’ve tried to want all those things,

but see those things tend to drown out

when waves of sadness,

splashes of shame,

and monsoons of guilt

are constantly flooding my brain.

So instead,

throughout my day I imagine different ways I could die, either by my hand or life’s.

I wouldn’t say I’m suicidal.

I just really don’t want to exist.

I know it sounds crazy.

But all the proof I needed

happened when I saw my mom dead in the hospital bed.

For the first time in my entire life,

she looked peaceful.

You’re probably reading this thinking ,

“What about in her sleep”?

But if you really are thinking that,

then you truly don’t understand

the concept of being at war with your own brain. Subconscious thoughts can be

and usually are the worst.

Think about it ,

if you wanted to attack someone

you wouldn’t attack them when they’re alert

or paying attention.

You would wait until they’re caught off guard, or asleep.