Born in the Dark

Stars are born in the dark

I see pain in everyone I meet

Hypomania fades away

Leaving behind an empty shell of a man in strife

A man whom I have known for my entire life

Hollow as a fallen log in a barren bay

Naked but fully clothed with worn-out feet

Stars are born in the dark

As It Was, As It Is, As It Will Be

I miss

psych wards

anti-psychotics

anti-

depressants

mood

Stabilizers

Anything to hold

On

To my

Humanity

I

miss almost

Being dead

being

restrained

i

Miss physical pain

Getting

Attention for being

Insane

I miss

mother afraid of me

Father figures

Touching me

I miss fearing for

My life

Alone

Without a home

I miss

My heart my

Mind

I

Miss my 15-

year-old

Body

I miss

Starving while

My sisters

Went out to

Party i miss

Running

Away to the

Cemetery

i miss the

Countless

Times i was almost

Relieved of

The burden of being Alive

I miss the feeling

Of

My heart break

ing

I

Miss fighting

Off grown men

just to survive i miss The insecurity of

A

Homeless

Shelter I miss worrying

About bullies

I miss

The ability

To cry

I

Miss missing

People

I miss caring

I miss

Not knowing

Anything

I miss the joy

Of my

Baptism

And God

I want

To believe

that I

Miss God

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To Each His Own

To each his own. At one point in American History, black people were considered 3/5 of a person, women were nothing without a man, and gay marriage wasn’t legal until recently. So what stops anything from becoming the norm? Nudists or polyanimous marriages or even a utopian society can become the norm someday. Whether we’re alive to witness it happen or not is completely irrelevant. I’m miserable, but who honestly gives a fuck?

Hello to my unique fallen angels! I am so miserable. For a long time, I thought my misery stemmed from my ex or my past family drama. However, I forgave all of them a while ago. I’m indifferent towards them. I don’t even care enough to hate them or hold grudges against them. I get it. I don’t really have any family left. My ex moved on from me. It’s fine, really. This misery I feel is something totally different. You see, I’m a very simple man. As long as I have a roof over my head, food, clothes, and an ambience of safety, I’m good. I don’t care about name brands or what people think about me. Everyone is dealing with their own internal struggles. I go to college, work, the gym, and church but I don’t feel like anything I do amounts to anything truly important. I don’t feel inadequate though. My IQ is in the 140s so that’s not bad at all. I’m starting to think maybe life is too easy. That the “luxurious things in life” are just extra. As long as I can pay my bills and have some money left over to try to cheer myself up, I’m okay. I’m so bored with my life. I have been putting myself out there more and maintaining friendships yet it’s only a fleeting happiness that merely comes and goes without my consent. I am so miserable that I’m becoming physically sick.

I tend to compare myself to Ernest Hemingway a lot. A very intelligent man who was so intelligent that he couldn’t find the means to feel understood and couldn’t connect with other people. He ending up dying by his own volition just like so many other brilliant minds. They say humans are social creatures. Human nature doesn’t exist. There are two sides of me constantly upset with one another. One is like “what’s the point of interacting with other people outside the realm of vested interest?” While the other half is like “people bring out the best in me so why don’t I surround myself with them as much as possible?” I tend to see it so black and white.

I actually got offered to do drag again for this Thursday coming up but I’m not as excited as when I started doing drag. Perhaps the feeling will come back when the moment comes and goes.

I don’t know. I don’t understand how I can make people care about me. I don’t get how anyone can have time for anyone else. We’re always working or busy doing something or sleeping so how does one form a meaningful connection with another person? Do I even care? I must if I’m asking. Life is dull and lonely. It may just be my personal experiences but I notice that no matter if someone has a lot of money or not, or if someone has a lot of friends or not, or even if someone is famous or not, everyone is suffering one way or another. There’s no need for jealousy. Maybe this human life is a mere preliminary of something far more greater. Heaven and Hell? Something else? I don’t know… who the hell does?

I live my life utilizing superlatives and generalizations to indulge in my self-loathing. I find myself being void of all emotion – the good and the bad. I don’t care enough to hate anyone and love is too hard to come by. I do honestly believe that I felt happiest when I was with my ex-fiance. I hope he’s okay. I hope my mom’s okay. Despite everything, I’m indifferent. It’s hard to explain the feeling I’m trying to convey right now in this post.

No two people can ever have the same human experience. Our five senses of exceptionally unique. I believe that is why everyone has a different favorite food or color or kind of music (etc.). Each person garners a completely unique human experience. So what does it matter if I try to express my feelings for anything? We only blog to vent or to promote while only interacting with other blogs to better our own blogs. Hedonism and selfishness at its finest. No one likes to admit that they primarily do things for their own vested interest.

Loneliness is a state of mind, not of matter. No matter how many other people I try to be around or parties I attend, it’s all the same. This chronic loneliness is becoming a medical condition. I don’t care. Sometimes I think to myself that if I was diagnosed with cancer today, I would be relieved. I don’t fear death. I have tried to kill myself over a dozen times in my life but obviously I’m not good at it. So I gave up on giving up. I’ll just go through the motions, the ebb and flow of life. Whatever happens happens. I don’t care.

Perhaps God doesn’t exist after all. What a horrible thing to say considering that I got baptized just a few months ago. I know things can always get worse regardless.

I don’t get why so many people judge each other on their sexual orientation or religion or race. Who gives a fuck?

Who says I have to be diagnosed with major depression? A doctor that never been through it themselves? What if I’m the messiah or if I’ll be the first person to answer life’s questions? Or what if I’m just another person living in this world until Death comes to take me somewhere better and new?

Whatever anything ever is, simply is. So thanks for lasting this long and have a wonderful day! Over and out.

PSYCHOSIS

Good afternoon to my psychotic fallen angels! It took only so much turmoil to finally surrender my sanity. As a child, I cared a lot about how my classmates and how my family members perceived me. None of them are in my life now. I’m starting to form a theory that depression, loneliness, selfishness, paranoia, and fear are default emotions while any positivity only comes around when you really, really try to find it. Or perhaps this theory is biased because it stems from purely my own life experience. Who the hell knows? I like to consider myself a philosopher (an existentialist and an extreme neutralist). In other words, I believe that “human nature” is a myth and that I can do anything I want as long as I don’t break the law. I fall into many other categories that tie into the fabled “human nature” but one category that seems to be one of the new minority focusses in America is stigma pertaining to mental health. I lost track of how many mental health problems I have. The system was the only family I was fond of as an adolescent. Psych wards, state hospitals, residentials, group homes, you name it, I’ve been there. At least I never have to worry about getting drafted for the military. Psychosis is one of the diagnosis I garner. It is a severe mental disorder in which thought and emotions are so impaired that contact is lost with external reality. Oh wells! I know people say I shouldn’t let my mental health problems define who I am, but I don’t mind. I enjoy it. I’m not joking nor being sarcastic. I really love my mental health problems. I would just be another boring person in this world’s contradictory existence. They give me character and depth and uniqueness to the essence of who I am. Embrace your fears. Become your fears. I used to be so ashamed of myself. Look at me now. And did you know Batman was actually afraid of bats? He embraced the bat. He became the bat. Think about that next time you host a pity party that no one will RSVP to. There’s only one you. Learn to enjoy your own company. Have a wonderful day! Over and out.

Feel free to like or comment on this post. I will always reply back to comments! And please check out my eBook: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B012BSPFCQ/ref=cm_sw_r_fa_awdm_EgmSvb1FDR2EB Thanks for reading 🙂

MORE notes scribbled in haste

Part two of Notes scribbled in haste

My assigned therapist at the ER said I’m beyond repair,
To take these pills to null the pain of my problematic mind,
The seizure’s effects wore off after I gave up fighting off nurses,
I was afraid of needles at the time and an IV fell into that category,
So a note was written in the shrink’s notepad,
“Psych Evaluation diagnosis: patient must be admitted to the hospital for psychiatric treatment until further notice.”
I just left the week before and now I have to go right back to the psych ward,
When they brought me in on the stretcher to the day room,
The other patients looked up for a moment before they realized I wasn’t anything special,
But it was different this time around,
I wasn’t afraid enough to cower in my room anymore,
I stepped off the platform and sat right down next to the others,
A note was scribbled in haste on the whiteboard:
“Name: Sufian, Gender: Male,
room #: 23, Assigned therapist: Laura.”
So I guess it wasn’t total indiscretion,
Confidentiality prevented the staff members from writing more on the board,
Like why I was admitted this time,
Seizure due to drug overdose,
Failed suicide attempt chickened out at the last moment,
I was just gonna try again once I was released but where was I gonna live?
I scared my grandma half to death,
I remember pulling the emergency cord when I lost complete control of my body’s movement,
She came busting in and wondered what was happening,
I told her to call 9-1-1 but she didn’t know what I was saying,
Nieve-uno-uno, Nieve-uno-uno!
That she understood,
the ambulance came soon after but I was too heavy to lift onto the stretcher,
You’re a big boy. You gotta get on this stretcher yourself.
The woman told me but I just struggled to say I was seizing,
I brought myself back to the present but it was easier to stay in the past,
No one loved me anymore in the present,
A staff handed everyone an itinerary for the day:
“9-10am: group therapy
10:11am: relaxation group
11:12noon: recreational activities
12-12:30pm: Lunch
12:30-2pm: staff transition ALL PATIENTS MUST STAY IN THEIR ROOMS…”
To this day I’m against group therapy cus I prefer one-to-one,
The other patients don’t need to know my business,
For what? So they can use it against me somehow?
The two hour window from noon to two was the only thing I looked forward to now,
Relaxation group introduced guided meditation,
But I wasn’t ready for that quite yet,
My thoughts were racing and I was worrying about where I was going to live,
Perhaps it would be easier to go in and out of psych wards for the remainder of my life,
I eventually met my assigned therapist and I told her everything,
I didn’t care about being vulnerable anymore,
She seemed like a reliable confidant,
But I was wrong,
Eventually during the second week I was there she gave up on me,
She said I frustrated her and therapy would never work for me,
Depression turned to anger,
Why the fuck did you waste my time then?!
I yelled at the top of my lungs,
After that I felt something inside me die forever,
All my sadness morphed into rage,
I began to flip out and get restrained everyday until one day I got visitors,
My current therapist I still have as I’m typing this post and the head of a transitional home met with me,
I agreed to become a part of DMHAS and to live at the transition home for I didn’t have any other choice,
A pleasant note from a roommate I met there is still in my possession:
“I’m so glad we’re friends. Everyone here is on their own journey. I find it easier to make friends in the system. Do you agree?”
Yes. I definitely agree.

image

Feel free to like or comment on this post. I will always reply back to comments! And please check out my eBook: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B012BSPFCQ/ref=cm_sw_r_fa_awdm_EgmSvb1FDR2EB Thanks for reading 🙂

Notes scribbled in haste

All my clothes were folded and already in my dresser,
All the food I needed was already in the fridge,
All the elements that made up nature I was sheltered from,
A note scribbled in haste said:
“Leftover lasagna is in the oven,
Just heat it up 400 degrees for ten minutes.
Love, Mom ♡”
I smiled with delight as I jolted to the empty kitchen,
The next day I awoke to another note taped onto the inside of my bedroom door:
“Sorry but I had to visit your grandpa at the hospital. Leftover pasta is on the stove.
Love, Mom”
So I shrug my shoulders without a care in the world and devoured the whole pot of spaghetti,
One day I came home from school with a love note in my hand,
“I really care about you and I want you to meet me at the creek at dusk.
XOXO Joshua”
I left the note on my nightstand before preparing a picnic basket full of greasy food,
We shared a romantic evening alone together near the cemetery,
I came back home late that night,
To my mother sitting on the couch under the gloom of the lamp’s light,
I walked up to her completely ambivalent,
She didn’t utter a word until she held out the love note from Joshua,
“First my father dies now my son is dead to me,”
This blow to my heart was worse than a gay bashing,
I cried myself to sleep until sunlight spilled on my skin once more,
A note was left beside my pillow and I hoped last night was just a nightmare,
“Pack everything you need and get out because you can’t live here anymore,”
The tears resumed to stain my face in clear, salty truth,
I filled my backpack with all my antidepressants, birth certificate, social security card, but there was no room for food,
Ten dollars was all there was to my name before I pigged out at a Burger King,
Homeless and poor at a moment’s notice,
I decided to admit myself to the hospital claiming I was suicidal,
I wasn’t lying,
The psych ward was a new experience and I stayed in my room for four days straight,
A letter was given to me on the fifth day:
“Everyone at school thinks you’re crazy. We all heard that you’re at the loony bin. Lose my number, you freak.
Sincerely, Joshua”
He must have really researched this psych ward eager to break my heart,
Somehow I mustered the courage to join the other patients in the day room,
They glanced up at me from what they were doing and saw I was nothing special,
I overheard elaborate ways to hurt oneself new ideas to bring my pain to the physical world,
Cutting or eraser burns or overdosing,
I pretended I was healed from a permanent mental illness,
The staff discharged me to live with my grandma for she was lonely too,
I moved in but it wasn’t too hard for I didn’t have much,
My grandmother didn’t speak a lick of English,
And Spanish wasn’t my strong suit either,
My first night was silence,
There were no clothes folded in my mother’s childhood dresser,
There was no food in the fridge I could eat just meals on wheels,
The windows were broken off its hinges so the snow got in,
My grandma wrote a note on my makeshift door the following morning:
” Usted puede sentirse desesperada ahora, pero todo es posible . Entre el mal , el miedo , la soledad , el hambre, y toda la oscuridad era la esperanza. Un pequeño faro de luz que dejar de lado todo lo hecho y dejado de hacer . Te amo con todo mi corazón.”
I couldn’t even begin to understand what these words meant,
It didn’t matter nothing mattered anymore,
I poured all the antidepressant medications on my twin sized bed and grabbed handful after handful into my mouth,
I imagined that I would just fall asleep and never wake up again,
So I wrote a note for the first time and laid it beside my potential cadaver:
“The life of an intellectual is a lonely one. My soul contract has been revoked.”
I have died so many times,
Yet I’m still alive.

Grandma’s translation:
You may feel hopeless now , but anything is possible . Between evil , fear , loneliness , hunger, and all the darkness was hope. A small beacon of light to let go of everything done and left undone. I love you with all my heart.

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Feel free to like or comment on this post. I will always reply back to comments! And please check out my eBook: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B012BSPFCQ/ref=cm_sw_r_fa_awdm_EgmSvb1FDR2EB Thanks for reading 🙂

What has this world come to?!

Watch “The Truth About Robin Williams Suicide” on YouTube

Good morning. I guess I woke up on the wrong side of the bed or maybe I am starting to unlock all the feelings of depression and loneliness I have repressed within myself for so long. I understand why Robin Williams killed himself. He was very wise and troubled but no one took him seriously. His life and his death, his legacy, was a symbol for our country and the whole world. We all may think we have people in our lives that genuinely care about us but most people don’t give a fuck. We are losing our humanity. We care less about nature and each other and more about the media and material things. Robin Williams suffered with depression and near his final time alive, he turned to  drugs and seclusion. I can relate to him or at least relate to what I  know about him. I suffer with depression but I survived countless endeavors and always scurried my way out. I adapt and I try to move forward. People come to me for advice or a shoulder to cry on or to hear a joke that will make their day. But I can’t think of anyone who would do that for me or are even capable of comforting a true fallen angel. I am strong and I laugh and smile quite often but most days, i don’t even wanna get out of bed. I just wanna hide from the rest of the world. Grieving for the limitless people who came and went from my life, never able to stay. I have a Facebook account and youtube and many other ones but none of that fools me to thinking anyone is truly there for me. Other people may succumb to the illusion that they have many friends due to social media. Maybe because it’s a way to cope for the loss of our humanity. I am so depressed. And yet I try the best I can to continue working on myself physically, mentally, spiritually, and psychologically. I work out regularly and I try to be positive in a negative world as if opposites really do attract. I go to church and pray and compensate for my life by going through the process of an adult baptism. I go to therapy to vent and try to rid myself of mental illness. I think everyone needs therapy. It’s time to stop running towards the status quo and towards reality, no matter how obscure or diminished our views on life may be. I feel like no one in my daily life can even begin to fathom what it’s like to go through this. Maybe we all go through it. I don’t know because no one ever wants to talk about the “negative” things. Same thing with Robin Williams. He was so funny and sweet. That was what everyone else saw. But based on my life experience, I can only imagine the reasons why he decided not to confide in anyone or to break the ice of an otherwise silly comedic persona. He knew no one cared to dig deeper than the mask. To be honest, this world is dangerous and terrifying at times. We are doing the best we can. To care about anyone else but ourselves is a burden. We are fighting our own battles. Frankly, I can barely help myself most days. I don’t know the solution to revive our humanity or even pinpoint when we lost it. But I do know it takes all my being to not give up and commit the same act that Robin Williams did. He was a beautiful person who was misunderstood. I may not know all there is needed to know about him but I can sympathize with the idea of him and his tragic demise. People think I’m a joke and usually don’t take me seriously. But why would they? I make them think that subconsciously because just like Robin Williams, I don’t believe anyone can begin to acknowledge this concept that I speak so fondly of. I believe I have lost my mind years ago. I don’t remember when exactly but I’m living my life on auto-pilot. I have faith that I play a huge factor in saving this lost world we live in. The unfortune and the tragedy will never cease, but the hope and love in the world will forever oppose the evil. That felt good to vent. A series of coping skills distracting me from the inevitable suicidal ideation. Don’t worry. (You won’t anyway) I will be okay. I have been through worse. I’ll just adapt and survive like I always do. Have a wonderful day, my magnificent fallen angels! Over and out.