✰DARE TO GO✰ ✰FAR✰

My name's Jessica, but you can call me Jess. I write poetry, enjoy stargazing even when it’s raining, and daydreaming.

[datorefargo]

I forgot how to write with a pencil

[datorefargo]

[datorefargo]

Bathtub in the toaster,

I’m a little,

backwards,

but at least my,

cigarette’s lit.

Got high,

waisted bell bottoms,

denim jeans on,

broken converse,

I can’t afford,

my meds,

but I got,

the next round,

in my own,

head.

Yeah,

sure,

maybe it sounds,

a little bit sad,

but I’m just,

trying to buy,

a drink.

It’s a bit,

twisted,

and it,

sorta makes me,

sick to the,

stomach,

but at least I’m,

tucked in bed.

[datorefargo]

I made a friend

[datorefargo]

I got fucking yelled at for feeling 🙃

[datorefargo]

Hi to whoever reading this, I’m ranting once again, that’s all this is now.

I don’t know how or why I attract the kind of people that will vent their problems to me, literally keep me, a phone call hater to the core, for hours, talking about them. Never asking how I am, or my kids, or anything. I just sit and listen, occasionally give an opinion, which is always wrong until it happens. Which isn’t a 100% of the time but maybe at least 70%. My last opinion got me ghosted, because I was right in my first one. That the bio mom of her daughter would toxic because she’s a drug addict, liar, and just comes up with excuses to not see her daughter and will just disappoint her and make her feel unwanted, especially at 13. But that isn’t my rant, my rant is that when right now at this moment I don’t call a damn person when I feel sad, lonely, and unwanted because of my literal disorder I’m dying from. I can’t even keep down my pills hardly anymore. I can’t be alone at all, and I seem to annoy everyone for that. I’m almost 30 and need a babysitter. I don’t want one, and now my mom can’t go to my nephews games because I could have a seizure and not get help. And there’s always a comment, or a head shake, or someone just simply not getting it and not caring and instead mad that I’m sick and she can’t go. I didn’t ask to be sick, I don’t want this, I don’t want to die, but it’s happening, and instead of compassion, everyone is annoyed. I just wish that instead of typing, someone would listen to me too like I do for them.

[datorefargo]

I misplaced myself,

just like,

my favorite,

pen.

The mirror,

it’s broken,

a lack,

of reflection.

I’m not,

too sure,

what happened,

but I lost,

phone signal,

and my steps,

I didn’t print,

a mapquest.

My glasses broke,

I thought,

I made it,

home,

I’ll stay in bed,

I promise.

That’s just,

a tree,

instead,

blurred from,

reality.

This isn’t fair,

I didn’t ask,

for this,

she did,

I’m not,

her,

she’s already,

dead.

[datorefargo]

I have a love/hate relationship with being asked how I’m doing. I’m not saying don’t ask, it makes me feel good, like you asked how I’ve been feeling????!!!! Omg thank you!! You made me feel important even for just a second!!! I can’t answer the truth though, that’d be rude to say “no I’m not doing okay I’m actually doing worse. I’m tired, my mouth feels like muck. I can’t walk well, and I charged my cigarettes instead of my phone last night 🙃” but I’m also lying when I say “yeah I’m doing okay thanks”. It’s basically running face first into a wall but getting a pat on the back occasionally for taking it so well.

[datorefargo]

Something about talking to you makes me wanna watch Sabrina the Teenage Witch on a rainy morning and not have to hear my phone go off.

[datorefargo]

I don’t like waking up broken. And I don’t mean waking up emotionally broken, that’s something I do after a nap. I mean waking up not knowing what day it is, and finding out you just spent the last five hours fighting and trying to jump out of the car on the interstate because you had a seizure. Again.

[datorefargo]

Even if they knew I tried to kill myself last year, they would still be annoyed I called 911 when I woke up in the middle of it instead of getting them.

[datorefargo]

I forgot if last night was actually tomorrow and whether or not I’m dreaming right now or if I’m in a living nightmare. This is something I’d rather choke down but instead I’m throwing it all up while I gag.

[datorefargo]

I’m really sad today. I wake up and I’m just on autopilot. I put bread in the fridge. I use the wrong words for things. I feel like I didn’t used to be like this. My hand is permanently damaged from my last hospital visit. I haven’t been feeling well lately and it’s March?? When did that happen? Like the whole month of February is gone? I’m losing sense of time and I take 9 seizure meds a day. I’m tired. I’m simply tired.

[datorefargo]

It was so much easier to tell you that you had the wrong number, that it was someone else. Instead of telling you it was me still.

[datorefargo]

What if I’m not really the same person and I’m just living a life that I read in a book and that’s why everyone is acting like I’m different???? A legitimate theory I believe. Like just copying what the old Jessica would have done if she were here.

I am aware I sound crazy but these last two weeks have been surreal and a process to work through. I’m starting to feel like it’s a job to be paid for but that’s not how it works.

[datorefargo]

In reality, we are all dying. Some of us, just sooner than others. But those of us who are simply just dying faster, are we allowed to accept that sort of thing? Even if it isn’t in a way of giving up, or a way of defiance. Just a simple way to accept the fact that yes, my life has been cut just a bit shorter than the average person. No, that isn’t exactly fair. I don’t really know how much shorter. But accepting this sort of thing has opened my eyes into seeing, there is no time to waste. You’re going to stumble, even sometimes fall flat on your face, but the thing is, this is all you got, and you better take it all. Run, walk, skip even. Dance, twirl, even stop to smell the roses, this is all you have, and you better keep your eyes open.

[datorefargo]

When I was younger I used to always want to be sick. Like have some sort of disease, like cancer. I thought maybe people would care more that way. I would feel more loved, and see if that I was wanted.

I did grow up to be sick, and now I see it’s not like that at all. Now you’re just unwanted and sick.