The Hopeless Gate of Your Heart
Rachael. 22. USA.
I post my poetry and thoughts here. Read if you like.
-
I feel as if my world has been turned upside-down and inside-out. After three years, I am finally getting of my medications. Three years of numbing the depression and anxiety, and I’m finally ready to face it.
But this last medication has been the worst one. Who knew that getting off of an anti-depressant could be so terrible? It has been one of the worst things I have ever gone through.
I have a few guardian angels up in heaven, and I know they’re watching out for me. I have a few guardian angels here on earth, too.
Every day is a battle. Sometimes I don’t think I can keep fighting, but I do. I just keep putting one foot in front of the other, and an endless litany of prayers floats across my mind.
Please give me strength, please give me strength.
An endless prayer for courage.
Please, God, let it work.
-
Photo reblogged from Je t'aime.
![insomniagirl:
At the Brooklyn Museum, I stood staring at this painting of St. Joseph holding a flowering rod. The afternoon was a messy one, as I was joined with a companion. Jim stood there near me and my many shadows, just like his written self would. He’s from Istanbul, and his entire past is a dirtily unknown tale that makes me tremble. Upon our first meeting, my eyes cracked and my soul scattered, while we spent much of our time looking down at our feet, talking about the problems and desires that make us light up and go out in the world, only to sing or hide. As much of an awkward occasion that it might have been, the afternoon ended with the only real parting that good friends are prone to have. It was painful, and I had speckled tears there on my face, while a whisper went out towards all else as he questioned: “Do you think we flew too close to the sky?” I merely mumbled, “I think this is just us being scared.” And the world rolled on. I gave him a hug and disappeared.
Most social situations exhaust me, unless of course I feel in charge of my own destiny. Needless to say, I was relieved to get home and return to my dog and boy friend. I was glad to sit on the couch and let my arms return to their warmth, and I was glad to write my friend a quick letter and craft up more escape plans, for this coming fall. The more I stay in the city, the more I get thirsty to get back on the road. I spend all day looking at possible vehicles that me and Zach could plug in some money for, and be on our way. We are both troubadours, and I think time alone submerged in whatever he loves, would be good for Zach. He works a day job that keeps him coming home unfulfilled, and it makes me ache. There in his exhaustion, I find sad little graveyards. The bones of initial optimism. And I’m always looking up to the sky, trying to make change. I keep reminding myself, that my love is a garden. It can heal.
At mid-day I sent a letter out to Michele and picked up a parcel that my grandmother had sent, with old tshirts and face wash I had left behind when I was last in Wisconsin. Cousin Rachael wrote and said that she was giving up some of her medications and being more directive towards making change herself. It was good to hear, and she seemed active and excited. Her excitement, seemed to be infectious. I couldn’t help but keep smiling.
Here are some lovely pictures of us, when we were both younger:
;] x
Love you, Alyssa!](http://25.media.tumblr.com/1e7b6e30643544906d2b7b68a1c9b289/tumblr_mm2lgubBmL1qzrwo5o1_500.jpg)
Love you, Alyssa!At the Brooklyn Museum, I stood staring at this painting of St. Joseph holding a flowering rod. The afternoon was a messy one, as I was joined with a companion. Jim stood there near me and my many shadows, just like his written self would. He’s from Istanbul, and his entire past is a dirtily unknown tale that makes me tremble. Upon our first meeting, my eyes cracked and my soul scattered, while we spent much of our time looking down at our feet, talking about the problems and desires that make us light up and go out in the world, only to sing or hide. As much of an awkward occasion that it might have been, the afternoon ended with the only real parting that good friends are prone to have. It was painful, and I had speckled tears there on my face, while a whisper went out towards all else as he questioned: “Do you think we flew too close to the sky?” I merely mumbled, “I think this is just us being scared.” And the world rolled on. I gave him a hug and disappeared.
Most social situations exhaust me, unless of course I feel in charge of my own destiny. Needless to say, I was relieved to get home and return to my dog and boy friend. I was glad to sit on the couch and let my arms return to their warmth, and I was glad to write my friend a quick letter and craft up more escape plans, for this coming fall. The more I stay in the city, the more I get thirsty to get back on the road. I spend all day looking at possible vehicles that me and Zach could plug in some money for, and be on our way. We are both troubadours, and I think time alone submerged in whatever he loves, would be good for Zach. He works a day job that keeps him coming home unfulfilled, and it makes me ache. There in his exhaustion, I find sad little graveyards. The bones of initial optimism. And I’m always looking up to the sky, trying to make change. I keep reminding myself, that my love is a garden. It can heal.
At mid-day I sent a letter out to Michele and picked up a parcel that my grandmother had sent, with old tshirts and face wash I had left behind when I was last in Wisconsin. Cousin Rachael wrote and said that she was giving up some of her medications and being more directive towards making change herself. It was good to hear, and she seemed active and excited. Her excitement, seemed to be infectious. I couldn’t help but keep smiling.
Here are some lovely pictures of us, when we were both younger:
;] x
-
tell me the story
about how the sun
loved the moon so much
he died every night
to let her breathe -
Are you waiting for me somewhere?
As alone as I am?
I wish I could find you now.
I’m coming as soon as I can.Where are you from?
And where are you now?
Will we be together someday?
Will be meet by chance somehow?They say there is a thread
that connects one person to another.
Are we connected, even now?
Destined to be lovers?Some days I feel
that I’ll be alone forever.
Some days I think
that I will find you never.But I have faith that when I find you
I will know that we belong.
I just pray I’ll find you soon
for the wait has been so long. -
Claim yourself
who are are
and who you want to be.Free yourself
go far if you must
and leave the past behind.Save yourself
from your fear
and your pride.Lose yourself
in the meaning of the moment
and the magic of the world.Be yourself
as fully and completely
as possible.Claim yourself -
your life
and your fate. -
There’s a maze inside my mind.
Some days I get lost
and the hopelessness sinks in.
Other days I find the sun
and I feel a new chapter begin. -
A picture and a cross
hang around my neck.
They once belonged
to people I love,
but now it’s all of them
that I have left.Some days I feel
that they are near,
Sometimes when I pray
I believe that they can hear.What does blood mean,
besides it’s biological end?
It’s something that connects us,
family both living and dead.Please watch over me
and help me to be strong.
Please walk beside me
for the road of life
is dark and long. -
Shattered plates
Shattered hearts
These are the things
That tear us apart.Broken glass
Spread all around
The yelling stops
There’s not a sound.The shards are cleared
The evidence is gone
But in my mind
The memory lingers on.A familiar road
A familiar scene
But oh how I wish
It were a stranger to me. -
I asked my father once why there was so much darkness. I asked him why there was so much pain. He told me that there was no answer. That it simply is the way of things.
“All souls get lost sometimes. But they always find their way home,” he said.
It’s been 15 years since then, and I still haven’t found a proper home. I don’t even know what home means anymore.
Sometimes I wonder if it’s all just a fairy tale Maybe it’s just a story that parents tell their children so that they will feel safe. They promise their sons and daughters that no matter what happens in life, there will always be a magical road that leads them back to comfort and peace. But it’s not true. None of it is.
I wish to God my father could have been right. I wish that the lost could find their way home no matter what. I find myself willing it to be true.
I look up on the darkest winter nights and I find the stars. They’re undeniably there. They aren’t a dream or a fairy tale. Somehow, in the darkness, they still manage to shine. The whole idea of it sounds much too romantic to me, however. Seeing them as some sort of sign of hope is wishful thinking.
Too often darkness takes over my mind. It shuts out all of the good things and leaves me empty. There are no stars in my head to break that darkness. No light survives when the darkness takes over, and all I can do is wait for the night to turn back into day. The idea of home seems so far away in those moments. The thought of comfort and peace is a distant dream that can never be realized. I have no idea how one person can carry such a heavy burden. I don’t know why God gives us such a lot in life. I find myself asking the same question that I did as a child – why is there so much pain and darkness?
They say that you’re stronger than you think. They tell you that you can fight it. And I do. I fight it every day. But it’s never easy. And when you tell people about the darkness they can’t find words to say. They tell you that they’re sorry, that they wish they could make it better. Some people just think you’re crazy. But they never understand, because it’s so much easier for them to see the stars. It’s easier for them to see the light in the darkness and call it a sign of hope. That’s why they don’t understand. That’s why they never can.
It isn’t that they don’t want to understand. It’s just that in order for them to even try to understand they have to imagine a world without stars. And why would anyone ever want to do that?
I hope to God that one day I’ll find this magical place they call “home.” I hope that the darkness will fade. But until then, I wait. I bear the burden I’ve been given with as much grace as I can muster. For the darkness cannot last forever, can it?
