when will it end?

it's been "three" days since I've posted and I apologize. I've been trying to update every other day but sometimes it's really hard with my busy life especially since I like to post very thought provoking, heartfelt blogs.

today I read "a very hungry girl" by jessica weiner, yet another book for women's studies. it was depressing at first but then she actually gave us solutions at the end. she makes it seems like the tunnel actually has a light at the end. I still feel crappy though and often times I feel as though life has defeated me, like I want to throw up that white flag of surrender but my friends won't let me. mainly haley and trinh. so I would like to give a very special thanks to them. continuing though I'm supposed to be going back to cws this morning but I'm really apprehensive and sort of ashamed. . .why you may ask, that is because I did this same thing last year. I feel ashamed that I'm needing this help again, that I've let myself slip so far off the bandwagon. it hurts and it sucks. now that I'm writing this I kind of don't even want to be talking about it at all especially not with the internet but I've learned that if we share our stories we can prevent someone else from experiencing our immense pain.

I don't exactly know how to explain it except mood swings but generally at one moment I can be happy, okay, ambitious, ready to tackle the world and literally moments later I'm full of rage, hate and anger and once that phase passes I swiftly move into sadness. it usually lasts much longer than the other phases, ranging from hours to days. a sadness that is filled with despair and hate of my very being, every single thing that makes up me. eventually that hate builds up to intense suicidal thoughts and impulses in which I am on the verge of throwing myself into traffic or jumping from a tall building (both of which are highly accessible on unc's campus). my friends though knowing how close I am to losing my sanity are constantly looking out, watching and stopping me. they stop me but it doesn't stop the intensity of the feelings. the only thing that does that is sleep or music but sleep is highly elusive since my mind is usually racing with thoughts making music the default. it only quells the feelings and thoughts though, nothing completely gets rid of them. in this stage I'm usually very antisocial and mean. I hate it, I push my friends away and isolate myself exactly what I don't want nor need. I have no idea where this came from and why it's so intense this semester. sometimes I think it's this campus, I don't know. the pretentious bitches who walk around making us all feel bad about ourselves.

it's like here I am nothing. I have nothing. no special talents, no extraordinary writing ability, no physical beauty, no charisma, no academic success or anything. I am average, if that. it's hard to feel special here, especially for me. I feel constantly marginalized by other people. I am fat, I am ugly, I am undesirable. I feel these things on a daily basis and no matter how many times I confide in my dad he comes at it with a firm hand rather than understanding and in the end it just makes it all worse and makes the self loathing stronger. I have no assets, I have nothing to offer this world is what I constantly feel like and I don't know how much longer my mind can withstand such a beating. . .

&& I'm out.
-- Lexy.

from the ashes we'll always rise

a post only for our eyes.
new yorkers.
those of us who watched the buildings fall.
those of us who watched the smoke billow.
those of us who cried when we realized loved ones were inside.
the relief we felt when we realized they were late,
the empathy we felt when we realized there were others we knew who didn't make it.
to the firefighters lost,
to the policeman lost,
to the ems workers lost,
we appreciate it.
and though the tragedy still strikes us
and even makes us hate those who don't deserve it
we made it and we're trying to be better people.
to those who watched and sat in horror with no connection to the terror
we know it hurt you too.
so thank you for reaching out to us new yorkers.
though all these years later peoples memories start to fade
my memory will never let me forget
and I don't want to forget
'cause a history forgotten
is surely one to be repeated. . .

this is not a poem, it is a free flow of my thoughts on 9/11 as a new yorker. my solitude and love go out to those who lost on 9/11. and also to those on flight 93 and in the pentagon.
good night. ='(

&& that's all.
-- lexy

When tears fall

they don't stop.
I've been crying since I had the idea in my head to write that poem I just posted and that was over an hour ago.
when I started this blog I made a promise to myself that I'd never hold anything back from my readers and so here goes.
that has to be one of thee most emotional poems I've EVER written.
and the woman I'm talking about, I just have so many conflicting feelings for her. and I'll love her no matter what because that's just the type of person I am.
but the resentment, animosity and even the little bit of self-righteousness that may have leaked into those words are truly what I feel and they've been a longggg time coming. I mean I can't even reread the poem without getting emotional. just thinking about it is making me cry.
knowing the consequence I'll suffer for being this way. for being gay.
I mean ultimately no matter how she treated me I still love her and to lose her love for being me is an unbearable thought. it just may tear me down. and it hasn't happened yet but I know one day it ultimately will.
so even though I'm capable to write that poem, even though I feel so powerful about who I am. I'm still emotionally not ready to face my consequences.
and right now I'm like a waterworks just thinking about it and all I want to do is curl up into a ball and cry and cry.
I'd just like to know where is everyone I'm there for when I need them?
where are these people when I feel like the only thing I wanna do is be in the fetal position?
I know it's 4 in the morning but if someone needed me at 4am I'd be there in a heartbeat.
I guess it's a consequence of going off the meds too, I have to regulate my own emotions.
and it's so hard to control this overbearing loneliness I feel half the time.
but apparently there's no one for me. no one but you, the people I write to (although I know no one reads this damn blog).
so I'll take solace in that I guess.
and don't just read my words when I post poetry, feel my words.

&& I'm out.
-- Lexy.

sit up straight.
elbows off the table.
chew with your mouth closed.
don't eat with your hands.
don't speak that way.
sit down.
do your work.
stop talking.
pay attention.
snap out of it.
grow up.
stop complaining.
take responsibility.
lose that weight.
suck in your fat.
do better.
try harder.
command after command.
critical voice one after another.
society's pressures weighing down on me.
my grandmothers hand bearing down on my face.
and a tear squeaks from my eye
as I try to hold it all in.
trying to prevent anyone from seeing my soft interior.
from breaking my thin outer shell.
from seeing me in my most vulnerable position.
one in which I feel simply unsafe.
open to all the pressures, stings, criticism, and hurt from all those involved in society.
nobody can fix me.
just as I think I have a grip on me,
I learn something new which keeps me from knowing all of me.
and yet I still look to so-ci-ety.
to comfort me when I'm feeling a bit inadequate.
only to walk away more hurt than before.
if only someone could help me.  . .

(no idea what this is about, no direction, just wrote).

&& I'm out.
-- lexy.

the menial things

the time for giving up has come.
for I cannot take it anymore.
I've lost a part of me.
somewhere in all this mess.
and this is
just as I was fixing me
not like something dramatic happened
by this occurrence was simply the final straw for me.
I'd like to depart.
never to see this place again.
for the sake of my sanity.

&& I'm out.
-- lexy.