Skip to main content

waiting: a poem


waiting for that call to come is close to killing me

wanting to hear your voice after all these months is the most bitter sweet thing to hope for

i'm scared to see what you say, is it good or is it bad?

will you break my heart? i hope not but maybe i deserve it for doing the same to you

my friends and family warned me about reaching out but at this point it hurts worse not to

i'm dying to know if this still hurts you like it does me

is this fixable? is it too late? has too much happened?

i hate to give myself any hope because it will destroy me if i give too much but if i give myself none at all it will do the same anyway

since when did i become the girl who's nerves are frayed awaiting a call from a boy?

fuck it

since when did i think i was able to evade being in love?


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Mental llness

   Sometimes I think it's odd that people I see, talk too, work with, have no clue what goes on inside my head; my illness. It's not always physically noticeable, but it's most certainly there. I have clinical anxiety/panic disorder and major depressive disorder.    About 7 months ago my grandmother underwent a major surgery, which resulted in my first panic attack. My grandmother is now fine, as much as someone her age can be, but my anxiety continued and progressively got worse. I'm not sure if it would have resulted eventually anyway or if the stress of the surgery was a trigger, but from that point forward it's been part of my life. Not only did I start having anxiety, but depression too. They hit me like a brick wall and neither me nor my mom knew how to proceed. We started out just seeing if I could suck it up and wait for it to pass. When it didn't pass, and got worse, I told her I needed something to change because I could not live like this. We started...

Bisexuality

   I suppose this is me officially coming out. I’m slightly terrified but also feel incredibly liberated. I want to be proud of who I am, so this is me, unapologeticly. I am bisexual.     I didn’t have someone in particular that made me “realize” it; in fact, for a long time I denied it to myself. Contrary to popular belief, I didn’t think it was cool or popular to be bi (Shocking, I know). I thought maybe it was normal to see girls the way I did so I never thought twice about it, until  around my freshman year. That’s when I started considering I was anything but straight. There were more people coming out and being gay wasn’t as taboo as I had always thought; before you even think it, no, it’s not like that “turned” me gay. I think having my eyes opened to something other then heteronormative life, even if it was just a glimpse, made me realize how I saw girls wasn’t how straight girls saw them. Now, at that point I had had boyfriends and was sure I ...

Suicide

Suicide isn’t pretty so I’m not going to portray it as so. It’s not poetic or romantic, it’s dark and morbid. I know this first hand because August 1st I attempted suicide. No, I didn’t do it for attention or pity or even as a cry for help; I did it expecting to die.    As I’ve said before mental illness is something I deal with but on that night I did not deal with it well. Around 2 A.M. the depression hit me like a brick wall and was not gentle. I went into the bathroom so no one would hear my breakdown of crying, which happens sometimes but it usually passes. I sat on the floor sobbing and it only got worse. It felt like I was dying. My chest felt as if it was decaying and being ripped apart while my head was going a million miles an hour; everything was too overwhelming and it hurt too much. I got a knife out of the kitchen and cut it across my hip a few times, hoping the physical pain would distract me from everything else. It wasn’t enough. This was too much. I couldn...