Saturday, February 22, 2014

Poetic Perspective (part 3) - Mental Health Patient

I walk around society, afraid to be me
Anxious, nervous, depressed -while living in my everyday reality
I tried so hard to find myself in a society that abolishes individuality and forces conformity
Breeding inside of us all,
“team work”, democracy, hard work, and uniformity
Causing me to walk around confused, lost, and oblivious, while slowly losing a part of me
In truth, social norms and social rituals can’t seem to interest me
Why would I want to fit in and never be seen or heard?, just an overused and under appreciated commodity

I asked a lot of
“wrong” questions so I’m diagnosed as a mentally ill individual
Someone who needs help and counseling, someone who needs to be
“cured” of this mental disease
I have anger issues and trust issues presently, for I feel as if no one has ever truly loved me
How could they understand and genuinely love me, if they have not seen the real me?
I am nothing more than a domesticated animal, trained to fit in
One way or another I’ll get compartmentalized and categorized, until I start to make sense to the intellectuals, other staff members, my bosses, and the police
Whether I’m in prison, a psych ward, or a residential home with
“other people” like me
I’ll always walk around uncertain of my actions, uncertain of separating the ‘
dream world’ from reality

It’s difficult to breathe at times for the pressures of reality gets to me
I’m suicidal yet hopeless -trying to make it through another day of this absurdity
I want to hurt myself and yet, not cause pain to others
Imagining the pain I would cause to those that cared for me, especially my siblings, friends, and especially my mother
I shudder at the endless possibilities that present itself to me
Or the voices I hear when I am drunk, high, or semi asleep
I hear voices, just like the ones that religious men believe in
Very little separates them from me, our similarities are many, it’s amusing that most can’t see

I live every day, day-by-day, hour-by-hour, moment-by-moment
It’s all I have left, it’s what I dread most, living day-by-day, hour-by-hour, moment-by-moment
Somebody help me, I’m crying out to all of you
I don’t know what I can say or do but I’m doing everything I can to draw attention from you
Help me get through, another day, another hour, another moment
I don’t want to be medicated or high or drunk another day, another hour, another moment
But I can’t live like this either, another day, another hour, another moment
Living the life of a mentally ill patient is the toughest thing I have to do
So don’t judge me as I live in my everyday reality -you have not walked in my shoes, lived through what I have lived through
You are not me, so I don’t need your judgments, insincerity, or sympathy
Just let me be me, leave me alone with my indecisions and insecurities
A mentally ill patient, walking around, breathing the same air as you, in this diseased and complicated unlivable reality.

No comments:

Post a Comment