Sometimes late at night when I can’t sleep and those horrid mind-numbing feelings sink in, the best thing I can do is just spout out my emotions in writing. (Usually in my ever handy iPhone and sometimes, like below, it comes out in odd verse.) My fingers begin typing away in a mad fury and before I know it, I’ve written out what I’m feeling and I begin to heal. I’m no poet, but my mind seems to try and make an attempt when it’s late at night and stuck in one of those states.
What’s wrong with me? I don’t understand.
How can days of light and joy turn into a dark and sickening trance?
I’m empty inside, I can barely smile.
When I go to bed at night my face contorts into a cry.
What use to make me happy is dead, it’s gone inside.
A thick branch of cold dim hands has grasped onto my mind.
I can’t speak up, what would I even say?
I have no idea what’s happening. Oh God, please make it go away.
Like a hooded mask of death I can feel him stand close by.
Or is it all in my head, I want to crush it all inside.
It’s sick, it’s twisted, I’m scared, I loathe my mind, this hidden lie,
how can I ever escape this somber sensation of wanting to die?
Does anyone else find themselves releasing their pain when they write it out? It’s almost as if you may be suffering, but you’ve turned it into something productive. Although for me, in the morning I look at what I wrote in those late night moments and think, “What the…?”