Stolen from my Tumblr, Original Poem by Yours Truly

I searched the archives of my tumblr to find this piece, the poem that I have recited live, the poem that one of my paediatric psychiatrists believe could have been featured in Schizophrenia today; the poem I hope one day won’t only be online but will be published in a mish-mash of my work over the years.

This is a poem I wrote in the 11th grade describing the events of previous months. I took about half of a semester of of school in high school to recover from a very deep bout of depression, that was laced with the wonderful auditory hallucinations that not only haunted me, but caused quite the argument with my psychiatrist at the time, which led to a second opinion and a diagnosis I could deal with: depression with psychotic features, NOT schizophrenia. It is in my opinion the best piece of poetry I have ever written and will most likely always be, for the emotion it illustrates was so raw and so painful that I don’t think I could ever write with such passion again.

Where Am I?

One day I woke up alive, yet dead

Visible on the outside, fine, but broken within

As I spoke, people failed to see the hidden torment

At the highest does of antidepressants, I drowned in my tears

Sorrow controlled me like a dictator

Few noticed the mutation, and those who did denied it

Left class in tears, grades sank deeper than the Titanic

One day I hit the floor, willpower to get up vanished

Where was I? What happened to my smile?

My mouth was as dry as a desert

The only fluid contained was blood

Even my tears were running low

Spirit was damaged; life hated and death envied

Tried every tonic, but my mood wouldn’t improve

Wasn’t in school; couldn’t see my friends

I found a cruet of pills, took about half the bottle and woke up in hell

By the sound of sick patients and drug addicts, and the look on my mom’s face I knew I was in the ER

The fluorescent lighting blinded me, the stench of the hospital all too familiar, and sleep overtook me

Became hypothermic; nurses couldn’t get any blood

My wish for death had almost come true

Why did my mom protect me?

Why was I here?

I allowed myself to become consumed by my infirmity

When I was in agony, I distracted myself by inflicting pain somewhere else

To see blood was my wish

Dug a whole in my thumb, tore away at the skin, but nothing would come

Sprayed perfume on my wound, knowing it would irritate it

It hurt for all of a second and then it surpassed

Wrote about my melancholy, anger and frustration

Was a prisoner, forced to follow a five-year-old’s schedule

Drank my apple juice, took naps, had no choices

After a few shocks to the brain, learned that there was hope

I woke up and found myself once again

Where I had been, I vowed to never rebound

I may not smile as often as someone next to me

I may take pills to keep me content, yet I am here, alive

Why I cry, I feel pain, but when it’s over…

I know where I am

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