Apology

i'm so sorry, it was wrong of me,
to even think of what i wrote,
i wish it was just a joke,
but i screwed up and i hurt you
the thoughts are shut in my mind and glued
they'll never come back
and i'll never hurt you with a poem like that.
it just came to mind, i know it wasn't right
it was so long ago but back then it was such a fight
for me to move on but now those thoughts are gone
and you should know that i'm alright you made no mistake
it was the feelings i felt i just wasn't okay
but now i've been helped and its safe to say
i have truly moved on its been months already
the pain is long gone so i hope you please
accept my apology because without you i couldn't be me.

(I hope the person this is to understands what I am saying)

You found me

Broken and lonely,
trying to let go,
Each day I feel this,
you don’t even know,
All day I weep here,
I find a new low,
It’s hard to find light,
in this place I call home.

Its just something I believe in,
but it’s not completely true,
I’ve always been sighing,
until I met you,
It’s just not the right time,
we can’t start something new,
But I just found out,
that you kind of feel it too.

Something has found me,
I can’t believe its you,
Deep down I just thought
it was something only I knew,
But yet I still feel my pain
and I still feel blue,
From my heart see our portrait,
It’s something we drew.

It’s the way you laugh,
the way you make me smile,
Now I feel like all this waiting,
has been worth the while,
All this time I’ve felt like
I’ve been hanging out on trial,
I’d walk around the world for you,
It’d be worth every mile.

(I don't know how or why I wrote this)

There was a young man, who woke up this morning,
His heart cried, and his dad was concerning,
Not, I was kidding, he’s still sitting there joking,
Thinking of it as nothing, he has something coming,

The next day he woke up, found a note on his son’s bed,
he looked into the corner, his chest where it bled,
Noticing no warming heartbeat, seeing that he’s dead…
The note told him to look in this black folder,
Why did he take his life? The room just got colder,

He was dead and he had no clue,
he knew absolutely nothing, that he went through,
he sees his black folder, all the pictures that he drew,
Also in the folder he saw his writing, she read a few,
he lay down and cried, he finally knew.

Talking to myself again?

So me and my "best" friend have not had a real conversation since, a few days after thanksgiving when I drove him, and his new family to Indy... and before that... who knows when we last spoke of anything besides small talk... anyways, I was just thinking about him tonight, and wrote while I was thinking... and this is what came from my mind, and my pen...

The night is coming,
When the winds are howling,
Our friendships crumbling,
This sense of dying, takes us all away...

This state of mind, where thoughts are flying,
All around its chaotic, are we all trying?
What happened to our normal lives?
Are you lying or are you crying?

I sit here counting, all who’s left here with me,
You’re barley clinging, the few here will soon be leaving,
Intentions fading, it creates our misunderstandings,
This feeling ignored, never fails to stop happening,

Is it a miracle? They way I never give up?
Until its way too much, when I lose touch?
I guess I just can't handle things thrown at me,
Am i just a bad seed, who believes I'll be happy?
Who can blame me? Who can blame me...

This is how it’s meant to be,
My voice is too soft, you never hear me,
You fall asleep when trying to see,
Your snoring now, but you don't believe,
The friend you've become, i've given you so much,
I've been by your side through all your hard times,
Now going through mine, no one's there...

Have you ever stared at fire,
And believed you were in hell?
Have you felt like you’re never admired?
Hidden behind a smile, where no one can tell?

Have you cried, because your friends flew away?
Have you changed, can you feel a knife in your back today?
Do you think i'm just trying to be funny?
Or are you saying all my words and feelings add up to nothing?

I can’t keep you, from what you do,
gone away, end all of your days,
My lips that move, don’t speak to you,
I try and I try, But I can‘t get through...

If you still can’t hear me, am I speaking unclearly?
Is it the mumbles in me? Am I that uneasy?
My sights are discrete, my expressions complete,
Black and white, now can you see what it is I mean?
Or am I just talking to myself once again???

Someone once said...

Someone once said that I was "perfect"
That someone was out of their mind.
Sometimes I feel like one big defect,
But hey that might get better with time.

Someone once said that I was so "great"
That someone knew how to tell a lie.
Sometimes I wonder why I believe in fate,
You never know, I might have something to find.

Someone once said that I was a good "friend"
But only for them when it was convenient.
Sometimes you shun me, but I'm with you to the end,
You won't help me, but I help you when I'm needed.

Is this someone smart? Or have I just lost it?
I don't really know, don't have a clue why,
Soon I'll get past all this self-concious bullshit,
And let these stupid thoughts finally die.

Best friend

(Sorry this is so long)

I always thought that every writer could change someone’s life,
I thought a poem could move someone, could give someone light,
But these words of mine I throw into these so called poetic lines,
Don’t mean a thing, not even to me, they’re just worthless dying rhymes.

It wouldn’t matter either, my poem or a spoken word,
You’d still look at me the same, and tell me "that’s absurd,"
I thought you were my best friend? I guess you haven’t heard,
I'm falling again, I’m crying again, and you just left me mixed and stirred.

Isn’t it awkward when you know I’m mad at you?
But you don’t do anything, you let it all pass through,
I know you say you don’t know what you can do,
Please just talk to me, don’t leave me in the blue.

The things you’ve seen and the places you’ve been,
Don’t come close to the pieces I have to mend,
You don’t know what it’s like to have no friends,
To have no one there to comfort you, unless they just pretend.

Now you don’t stay up all night, and cry awake in bed,
You have new friends and a wife and child, but from me you have fled,
I’m not surprised, who’d want to be near someone so dead?
I just thought it meant something to you, all the poems of mine you read.

Do you remember my black folder, all the old poems I laid to rest?
Remember what I wrote about, that stabbing feeling in my chest?
It’s kind of funny how that feeling has yet to fade away,
2 years later, and not one damn thing has changed.

You said it would be better, you said life wouldn’t be so hard,
You told me I deserved it, you said that I have come so far,
Yet I feel like I’ll end up as another drunken bum at the bar,

My direction has changed, but it still isn’t right,
I still think of my pain, and cry all through the night,
I can’t really remember the last time we had a good talk late at night,
Just know that I’d still die for you, I want you to keep your glowing light.

I know you’ve said you’ve felt bad for me,
But don’t worry, it’ll fade, it’s just plain sympathy,
Not everyone has luck, or a way out that they can see,
Things aren’t the same, you know you’ve changed, and now I want to leave.

I always thought that a writer could change someone’s life, I can’t even change my own.
I thought a poem could move someone, but there’s no light that I’ve been shown.
These words of mine I throw into such poetic lines, are still not read, and are still so alone.
They don’t mean a thing, not even to me, they just sing their same old moan.

"How can you hide from something that never goes away?"

This is an entry I found on a blog that I read often

The quotes are from the movie, Prozac Nation..

although I could have written all of these words myself
as they describe my feelings so completely.
I have had depressive and anxiety related "episodes"
through all of my 21 years.. but somehow this one feels
like the deepest, darkest hole ever... a total waste of my fucking time.

"No one is ever going to love me that way
because I'm so awful and all I ever do
is cry and get depressed.
If I were another person,
I wouldn't want to deal with me.
I don't want to deal with me.
It's so hopeless.
I want out of this life.
I really do….
I keep thinking that
I'm driving myself crazy,
but I swear, I swear to God,
I have no control. It's so awful.
It's like demons have taken over my mind.
And nobody believes me.
Everybody thinks I could be better if I wanted to.
But I can't be myself anymore.
I mean, actually, I am being myself
right now and it's so horrible."

You see, I feel that I am not me anymore.

Or maybe me only comes out once in a while...

the outspoken, funny, intellectual guy

with the huge laugh and a sense for the mischievous.

I am not sure where that fun guy with the huge heart

is living right now because he only occasionally says hi

and gets swallowed up again by the dark side.

Sometimes I am afraid he may never come back.
I hear him though... and he wants his voice back.
I always try and write as true to me as possible but lately

I have felt that all I can write about is this feeling of nothing inside.

The tale of the great Depression...
The anxiety, the pain, the dark tunnel which sees no light.

Nobody wants to read that crap... not even me.

Although I write for me, I enjoy having the audience so,

the best I can hope for is a new understanding

for those who do not understand the dark

and perhaps a feeling of safety in numbers

for others who has lived in that tunnel.

I know you are out there.
Depression is a deceptive liar...

you want to share the absolutely huge pain you feel

on the inside not because you want sympathy.

Abse-fucking-lootly NOT.

It is the absolute last thing ever.

No, you just want to be heard.

On the other hand, it is not socially acceptable

to be openly demented and therefore

rather an exercise in shame and you want

those dark parts hidden from the world.

It is a double edged sword.
To be totally honest...................

I'm afraid I will wake up one day

and be totally alone and that nobody thought

I was worth the effort to stick it out till the very end...

and that I will be as invisible as I feel.

"I wish something would knock me out
for a long time until the way I feel just stops,
because this is not even an issue for therapy anymore.
We can analyze it for days and that won't take away the pain.
Something bigger is taking over my body and mind.
I'm possessed."

I look at pictures of me and I find it so hard to believe

that the man smiling back at me is on the flip side

of this manic depressive soul.

I so like the smiling, happy guy better!!!!

I am writing this full of tears

and fighting the urge to delete these words and hide.

It is an awfully lonely feeling that

I do not want to highlight because

it makes me feel alienated,

different and just alone - and crazy.

While at the same time wanting to dare the world

to take a really hard, realistic look at people like me

who are all around you. Force yourself.

Perfectly wonderful human beings like me,

who happen to feel like the living dead.

Nobody wants to feel like this. Nobody asks for it.

It is an illness dammit - nobody WANTS to cry all the time

and feel like there is some other

bewitched fuckwit living in their body!

If I had a broken bone or a tumor,

how much more accepting the world would be

than admitting my mind if more than beautiful.

Needing treatment, love, support and care

as any other illness minus the social stigma,

judgment and rejection of anyone or anything different...

or that we do not understand.

"I'm looking forward to this blank peace,
this oblivion, this nothing, this not being me anymore.
I am looking forward to it for real.
Or at least, this is what I tell myself.
I tell myself I'm not scared,
I tell myself I really want to die,
and it never occurs to me until the last possible moment
that what I really want is to be saved."

I once had a conversation with a client at work

who was telling me about somebody committing suicide

and she ended the conversation saying

"If they could only have gotten through the moment".

I keep telling myself that. I keep reasoning with myself

"Come on Chris... just get through this moment."

... but the moments are getting closer and
closer together and I'm getting tired.

"You've had enough of me, haven't you?
You're probably so tired of all this crying and all these moods,
and I've got to tell you, so am I.
Sometimes it seems like my mind has a mind of its own,
like I just get hysterical, like it's something I can't control at all.
And I don't know what to do, and I feel so sorry for you
because you don't know what to do either.
And I'm sure you're going to leave me."

Look, my blog my not be all that and a bag of chips anymore....

but it's me. It's real and as always, that is

my greatest gift to anyone. No pretense.

Much love.
Chris.