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|| The Feisty Copperhead ||

Month

June 2016

self medi(a)cation

Beautiful and soo relatable

satire(d)

help |hɛlp|
verb [ with obj. ]
make it easier or possible for (someone) to do something by offering them one’s services or resources

To whomsoever it may concern,

Growing up, I drew out my silver linings from off-white pages and the silver screen’s safe cocoon.

And I’m sure a part of you did too, regardless of whether or not you spent your time as a kid running around playing with friends all the time, or being holed up in their zone with a book or a movie. The degree of influence must’ve varied, obviously, if you’ve made it this far I’m sure none of the Superman movies drove you into checking for flight powers by flinging yourself off the balcony.

I, myself, have made it this far owing to the films about people wanting to fling themselves off the balcony.

There was the Breakfast Club in senior year, Silver Lining’s Playbook in…

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The Queen Bee Equivalency

Look how she struts along the path,

Her posse of fans in tow,

Fawning over her every move,

Her every wish their command.

 

Look how they gather around her,

The queen bee equivalent,

As I look upon, from my invisible spot,

Left out, berated, ignored.

 

Look how they follow her every step

Attack to hurt, at her word,

With bated breaths, they wait for her approval,

The queen bee chooses her mate.

 

Look how she stands there, tall and proud,

Like the world revolves around her,

Her posse of workers move ,

programmed to adore her,

walk to surround

her,  And sadly

so do I.

 

Broken?

How do you know you’re broken?

Is it the suffocation you feel, alone in a room?

Or the feeling of nausea, of impending doom.

Is it the pain that strikes your heart?

The giving up on love, music and art.

The long nights awake, pillows drenched with tears,

Being with your thoughts- your biggest fear.

That piece of glass at the back of your drawer.

Those marks on your arm, finding solace in that scar.

A joint your best pal, a smile, your worst,

Over thinking, saying you must be cursed.

Blank wordless pages, your struggle to feel alive,

It’s a chore, every day to survive.

The 2am cries,

The “I’m okay” lies

The battle raging inside

The loss of your pride.

 

How do you know you’re broken?

Is it the helplessness you feel?

The heartache and despair,

An inability to heal.

 

How do you know you’re broken?

That you let someone get too close,

Gave them the power to hurt

To leave you morose?

 

How do you know you’re broken?

Can you feel the silence in the air?

Can you feel your sanity calling?

Reaching out to find you

Only, you’re not there.

Always Is Never Enough.

Dear You,

always

/ˈɔːlweɪz,-ɪz/

at all times; on all occasions.

You know that moment when you realize that someone’s ‘always’ has an expiry date? When ‘forever’ just isn’t long enough.

With the “I’ll always keep in touch”, the “I’ll always love you” and the “We’ll be friends forever”, do we actually fall prey to our imagination and believe that we can actually be a permanent part of someones life?

We all the know the reality of such promises, high school classmates all promising to stay in touch after graduation, the “I’ll always love yous” collected from all our exes. Why then do we allow ourselves to believe these empty promises and get hurt every time? Why do we agree to put ourselves through the same believe-deny-hurt-cry cycle that always ensues the breaking of such promises?

I have over 50 pals who had promised to call me regularly. We had planned to show up for all of each others important days and happy times, but today, a facebook comment is all I get from them. To be honest, I’m no better.

When it comes to love though, I pride myself for always upholding my promise of ‘always’. Yes, I’m sad to say that I have still kept my promise of forever being in love with the first person I dated. Well,I did say that I would. Unfortunately, I will always have a sweet spot for her for the rest of my life. Love screws you up, amirite?

Moving on, all her then love filled ‘sincere’ promises now seem unbelievable coming from someone who finds me as disgusting as she does. Yet, I foolishly still believe that she will come around or perhaps just once, remember her words to me?

Why do we depend on others to give us their love forever? Why is it that a short period of love, of friendship just isn’t enough for us? Why do we keep waiting for others to make those promises to us, when we can promise to love our self forever?

What forces us to measure our worth in terms of how much someone else loves us?

The only ‘always’ we need is ours, because when it comes to others, ‘always and foreveris just never enough. 

Love,

Me.

 

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