Am I Taking Back Control

Am I taking back control

by doing this

I ponder as I sit

with a bottle of sleeping pills before me

I stare at it

As I ponder if I am taking back control

By doing this

 

According to Buddhism

I chose to be reborn

If that is the truth to be told

I regret it

I regret being born

Growing up in this world

I regret it

I regret choosing to come back

to this

 

I am drained

No energy left

Did I consent to being born

Did I agree to this world

 

I was sent into a cosmic

Which is a bad mistake

Sometimes I think

I am the bad mistake

 

 

What is a mistake

Choosing life or ending it

Taking back control

because I didn’t agree to it

 

I ponder as I sit

with a bottle of sleeping pills before me

 

 

 

 

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There Are No Seats For Me On The MRT       

There are no seats for me on the MRT

Dark blue for the priority seats

But no seats for the blue body that carries me

 

The blue mind

The blue mind that made me consider suicide

 

Yesterday

The blue mind made me consider suicide

Today

I still managed to be alive

Barely living

Struggled but finally got out of the door

Just to go to school

 

I am barely alive

I have died a million times

resurrected just as many

 

Yet

There are no seats for me on the MRT

When I missed my meals three days in a row

When I stayed in bed and it was a world’s distance

From my bed to the door

When I stared at the ceiling in darkness three days in a row

 

Today,

I am still perishing,

But I got out of the door

and tried my best to go to school

But the dark blue priority seats

are not for the dark blue mind

is my mental health not a priority?

Is my existence not a priority?

 

The lady next to me asked if I was sick,

Because I sat on the dark blue seat with my dark blue mind

I replied “yes”

She said,

“doesn’t seem like it.

You look young and healthy”

 

Invisible,

My dark blue is invisible

My scars are invisible

 

I fight with my Illness every day

And every moment

 

Yet when I am feeling my worst

When I barely have the strength to live

When I am broken into a thousand pieces

When I am just trying to go to school

There are no seats for me on the MRT

1246

1246 days

of sobriety

 

3 years

4 months

4 weeks

alcohol-free

 

The drunk version of me

Erased by memory

The crazy days

The erotic encounters

All seem so blurred

Lost in history

 

Buried deep in the dirt

Along with my lonely tears

The hearts I’ve broken

Friends who fled away

The relationships that faded

The sins I committed

People I lost faith in

All buried deep in the dirt

 

Bottles after bottles of alcohol

Demeanor of self-deception

Trusting that alcohol was alleviation

And yet left alone

with empty bottles

Empty as I was

Piled up like my troubles

Taking up all the spaces

Mocking my last sanity

 

Whiskey tasted like self-love

The next morning it reeked agony from my inside

the smell lingered

for 3 years

4 months

4 weeks

the mistakes I’ve made

all buried deep in the dirt

yet always there as a reminder

 

1246 days

alcohol-free

sobriety enables me to see

all the misery

clear and fair

what I suffer

How I suffer

the pain is greater when I am sober

I live through the sadness I try so hard to ignore

 

the past never truly disappeared

always there as a mockery

reminding me of all the failures

the worst version of me I have ever been

 

choosing recovery

but trapped in memory lane

the illusion of how whiskey can cure

seems so tempting

my mental disease

all relied on it

 

1246 days

alcohol-free

every today

is followed by a struggling yesterday

every hopeful tomorrow

is constructed by a skeptical today

 

3 years

4 months

4 weeks

of recovery

 

recovery glows flowers

adorning the grave I dug for myself

white and yellow flowers

on the dirt I buried my history

white as I my heart is now pure

yellow as the sun spreads hope

 

Depression Is

You talk about it

Like it’s something casual

There’s nothing casual about it

 

Depression is not casual

It is not just being troubled

It is not a cold

Which you can recover from in days

 

Depression is an assassin

Depression is the shadow that follows behind

Depression is the dark hole that consumes

Depression is me

 

Depression is the twisted state of mind

It is knowing that there’s something not right

But don’t know what it is

Don’t know how to fix it

Utterly clueless

 

It is being completely blind

Searching in darkness

Everything I touch makes me bleed

 

It is drowning in my own tears

Until I lose the ability to cry

To feel sadness

Or anything at all

Until numbness

is the only thing remains

 

Depression is the defense mechanism

A bubble that claims to keep me safe

As long as I stay in it

And believe in the projections it shows

 

Depression is something I keep in my pocket

Always with me

Wherever I am

Whomever I’m with

It tells me how to act

And not to take it out

So others won’t acknowledge

 

It is a tenant that checks in

Out of the blue

And my body is the landlord

It brings its friends over

Anxiety

Panic attacks

They party all night

Playing horror movies

I toss and turn

Can’t fall asleep for nights

 

Depression stays in my body

It is trying to take over

It gives me a mask

Ask me to wear it

So no one can see

While every cell in me

Is turning into depression

 

It is the bad neighbor

Drilling the walls

Filling my room with lousy noises

And yet filing complaints against me

 

Depression is not casual

Depression is the paralyzing negativity

It is transparent yet so powerful

It keeps me in bed

Everyone away

 

Depression makes sure that I am alone

So it can fulfil its duty

The task of an assassin

 

Depression is choosing recovery

over and over again

failing and succeeding and failing again

it is a loophole in time

repeating everything every time

 

it is hiding the beauty in life

says the blue sky is grey

or the loving friends don’t care

or universe has abandoned me

or I belong to the wrong galaxy

 

Depression

Is the devil with a thousand tricks

It is the opposite of life

It is not having a voice

Or a choice

 

Depression is many things

It is definitely not

Not casual

Like how you talk about it

Panic Attack

I’m shaking

My visions blurred

Something’s stuck in my chest

I can’t breathe

smothered by air

 

I swallowed the tablet

Waiting in panic

Thirty more minutes

Then I should feel normal again

 

Everything has a noise now

My heartbeat is too loud

It is pounding too hard

I may just be shattered

And no one would notice

 

I am sitting here like a stone

I look normal

Yet every cell I have

Is deteriorating so drastically

I can hear them dying

I can hear them screaming for help

 

I can’t move my limbs

They are not mine now

I can see them

But they are so distant

 

I can hear my teeth clicking

So loudly in my head

Like a ticking bomb

I feel like it’s going to explode

 

I think I’m about to die

There’s no air in my lungs

My tongue is dry

My thoughts all tangled

They are shouting at me

Yelling and blaming

 

My body can’t take it

I may just be dying

I can’t cope with this

Ten more minutes

Until the tablet fulfils its duty

 

Every muscle I have is on guard

They know I am about to go

My body is rejecting my soul

They want it out

Ten minutes are too long

 

I am about to collapse

And nobody would notice

This is the end

Dying as a stone

Without a soul

 

Five more minutes

Goodbye, all

I don’t know what I’m fighting for

Set free my soul

so my body can rest

 

 

 

 

 

 

Colorful Medicines

My body is made of 80 percent medicine

the purple and pink I take in the morning

are supposed to fix my blue genes

 

blue genes deep rooted and passed on

from my mother and grandmother

blue genes pushed me into a black hole

blue genes slow down time

a minute feels like a lifelong sentence

blue genes distant me

from everything else I see

 

sunshine, coffee, love

they are just a metaphor now

a reflection of how drifted away i am

 

My body is made of 80 percent medicine

the purple and pink I take in the morning

are supposed to fix my blue genes

and they kind of do

purple and pink pull me out of the black hole

allows me to feel the sunshine

smell the coffee

experience love

 

but purple and pink

cannot take away my thoughts

cannot tell me not to kill myself

cannot tell me I am trying hard enough

cannot tell me I am not my illness

 

purple and pink

take away the blue

but not the blue mindset

and the blue mindset

is what gives me nightmares

screaming in the dark

bleeding in dreams

 

the blue mindset is constantly fighting

with other white or golden mindset

and yet always winning

leaving me with exhaustion

because my body is always at war

and hence

panic attacks after panic attacks

 

so here comes the orange little tablet i take

morning and night

twice a day

and it always comes with yellow

yellow eases the vertigo

and orange numbs my nervous system

so I don’t feel like I am dying that often

 

purple and pink in the morning

return me my emotions

help me to not be numb and distant again

 

and yet the orange and yellow

morning and night

twice a day

shut down my body

no anxiety

no emotions again

 

so the white I take at night

right before bedtime

stops me from thinking

about how scared I am

or how sad I am

or how completely numb my entire body is right now

right now

the white I took

send me to my dreams

to my subconscious where all the horror lives

but at least

I can have a steady eight hours of sleep

 

My body is made of 80 percent medicine

it is a science lab

chemistries mixing with chemistries

I am always exploding and evaporating

exploding and evaporating

 

my body is a science lab

the colors I consume

are not a promise of well-being

they do not come with warranties

 

colors are always colliding with colours

they don’t transform into Van Gogh’s sunflowers

or the starry night

in which pain turns into beauty

and colors come to life

 

the colors I consume

purple and pink

orange, yellow and white

they are a science experiment with no results

 

my body is not mine

my body is made of 80 percent medicine

colourful medicines

that should have cured my blue genes by now

my body is not mine

it still belong’s to the blue genes

 

colourful medicines

purple and pink

orange, yellow and white

science experiments with no results

always contradicting the other

 

my body is not mine

doctor says I’m going to be fine

but he doesn’t know how long it will take

or exactly how my body will react to them

 

my body is a science lab

experimenting with colourful medicines

doctor says I’m going to be fine

but he’s not the one taking them