I Am Me

Saturday, November 5

About 6 weeks before I was hospitalized for being suicidal, I wrote this poem in English class.

My Ballad: What Life Is Like
She lacked the grace to tell the truth,
Instead she lied to him.
A friend told him it was deceit;
His chances then were slim.

He left his gang, cleaned up his act,
and claimed insanity.
He got some help & lost some weight,
but still she left him be.

He bought her sweet expensive gifts,
& wooed her heart & soul.
She turned to him & [coldly] said,
"You can't buy me with gifts of old."

She looked into the mirror & said,
"Today, I am so vain."
He kissed her cheek, she smiled at him,
And they made up again.

I look back on this poem, and I can totally see what kind of trouble I was headed for. I know hindsight is 20/20, but this was a cry for help. And nobody saw it, not even me. This was a depressing time in my life, and when I came across this old poem from the bad old days, it just reminded me of how I felt at the time - alone, just so very alone. I felt like nobody understood my plight. There I was, a middle child with no siblings to turn to, no friends whose parents weren't happily married, and all the secrets in the world to keep. There was so much pressure to keep quiet, and noone who I felt I could trust to confide in when I truly needed someone the most to lean on. I just felt so alone.

On my bad days now, I still feel alone. Although, the difference now is - I can logically explain how I'm not alone. And yet, logic escapes my emotions very often. I am not asking for a pity party. I had just wanted to know I wasn't alone, and I wanted to know what was the right way to deal with my situation.

I just wanted to know what my options were, and what would be the best course of action. Of course, I had to figure this all out for myself. Nothing like re-inventing the wheel, right?

Kim 10:41 PM |