Day 26: Have you ever though about giving up on life

Yes. But that was a long time ago.

I was an awkward middle school student. My mother and I weren't getting along. It seemed like everyone in my life was changing (and I didn't feel the same either). My life felt pointless and insignificant, and in some ways, I felt my existence did more harm than good. So I thought - why not end it? I had heard of suicide pacts and there was something . . . romantic about them (provided you don't have a strong grasp on reality).

Luckily, however, teachers seem to figure out the need to address this issue. After several classes, lectures, and workshops - I realized the permanence of the action compared to the temporal nature of my problems. I still have moments where I don't feel as though I truly matter, but those moments should give me resolve to be a better person, rather than give up.

Also, I found an amazing book - After the Death of Anna Gonzales - which contains 30-something poems expressing the thoughts of characters after Anna has committed suicide. It's well-written, relatable, honest, and balanced. Here's one of my favorites from it:

Jordan Smythe

Once I had this jigsaw puzzle.

I worked on it every day.

It was the hardest thing I’d ever done,

But I finally got it all finished

Except for one piece,

Which was missing.

I looked for it everywhere,

Under my bed, behind the table, in the closet,

But the piece was just gone.

Pretty soon, when I looked at the puzzle

All I could see

Was the missing piece.

So I threw the whole thing away.

All my hard work, all my effort tossed in the garbage.

The next week I found the missing piece

But, of course, I no longer had the puzzle.

So why am I thinking about this puzzle today

When I hear about Anna Gonzales’s suicide?

I don’t know.

Maybe it’s one of those metaphor things.

Clearly, the audience intended to be young adults, but I still find these words a great reminder of how small our perspective can often be.

Conversation with a door (or, What one writes after reading too much Emily Dickinson)

I've opened you and closed you - 
felt the wind move as you passed.
I've left you ajar plenty of times
but shut you when there's a draft.

I've waved at people seen outside
and welcomed a few elect.
I've shoved a few intruders out
and slammed you for effect.

I've pressed my ear against you -
listened at great length.
I've rested my head upon you
and trusted in your strength.

What more then can you ask of me?
There's nothing more to do.
Well, save that little, tiny thing,
but I don't see the need, do you?

Dreams vs Reality

My dreams are brief and hard to hold
lasting seconds before they're cold.

They live a minute, sometimes less,
But for those moments I can think
One day I'll be the greatest . . .

(friend sister daughter
teacher writer motivator
musician poet philosopher)

. . . this world could ever see.

For sixty seconds I imagine myself
having an impact in the world,
making it better.

That brief moment fills me up,
lighting my face and lifting my features
until I could almost burst.

But then reality sets back in
throwing a blanket over my passion
smothering its flames.

I remember my limitations
my faults and inadequacies

No - my dreams will never last
Reality is too strong,
too stifling.

I return to my stoic self
and wait
for the next precious minute
to live.

Overwhelmed

This Magritte is a favorite of mine - thought somehow it fit

Need a distraction? I know a few.

When I don't want to think -
When I don't want to feel,
I go to my diversions
Covering my obligations,
Hiding my responsibilities.

I wrap myself in
books - movies - music - fantasies

And the rest of my life can be
pushed aside - ignored - forgotten - frozen

for a time.

I love myself; I hate myself -
the two switch places all the time.
Trapped by both, I struggle
to find balance of some kind.

I know I'm wrong,
but you're not right.
I'll disagree -
if just for spite.

You offer help to change my faults,
but I'm too injured by your tone.
So I'll defend them to the death -
give up and please leave me alone.

The one who stays
despite that shove,
will prove to me
the truth of love.

Tired Eyes

My smile hasn't reached my eyes today -
too much weighing on my thoughts.
My tears haven't touched the ground today -
I don't have the strength to cry.

I stare at the world through empty eyes -
forcing tone into my speech
a laugh,
a grin,
but always averting my eyes.

If they look for just one second -
really look,
I know they would see
and recognize the mask I'm hiding behind.

I can fake everything else,
but my eyes reveal the strain
from holding back all these fears
and all this pain.

If I lost control today I think
it would tear me apart,
and I don't have the energy to pick up the pieces -
at least not right now.

Sometimes pictures scream
When voices only stutter.
I've seen these visions
And heard the truths
I simply couldn't utter.

Pictures in the mind can stay
Long after the words are swept
By and unknown creature
Or nothing at all,
Just forgotten
Like last week's breakfast.

Why is it that eyes can trigger
What ears - which never close - can miss?
Memories so important
By my senses all but lost

Though I reach so desperately for them.

We see what we want to see

Last week hypocrisy struck my face and I started to see it everywhere.
I found it under the surface of the smiles and frowns of strangers.
I found it passed in a bill by the senate.
I found it on the screen of a favorite movie.
I found it within the pages of my beloved books.
I found it behind to remarks of family and friends.
I found it hiding in the recesses of my own heart and mind.
I listened to their lies and told a few myself until the facade enveloped my vision and I had to close my eyes.

Yesterday I combated my disillusion by seeking kindness and compassion.
I found it shining through my window at morning.
I found it posted on the internet.
I found it singing a tune on the radio.
I found it interviewing an earthquake victim.
I found it whispered in conversation with friends.
I found it wrapped in reassuring hugs from a loved one.
I found it transforming the desires of my heart, mind, and soul.
I felt the bitterness I had harbored dissolve as it was slowly replaced by the renewed hope in my dreams and I blinked at their beauty.

How can I be so fickle? Am limited by the scope of my quest? How much would I see if I looked for more than what I want?

This week I choose to look for love.