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