deepundergroundpoetry.com

Castle Down

A sheer look of pain and concern fills your face when you see my lean over, gripping my chest from the icey grip that is the anxiety disorder that I have been diagnosed with. I sit down, thinking of it as no big deal-- this panic attacks fill my veins and are the very stepping stones I walk in all the time in my life, worrying and wondering about things that I cannot change or trying to change things that go in and over my head and I start drowning in. "I'm fine" I say, because I was-- I had grown tolerant to this kind of pain, the pain that no one can save me from. My eyes blink and I am standing in my driveway, everything is gone-- I am losing my mind, my head, my sanity, my house-- Eviction notices legalized and we have to be out in four days, I am going to lose half of my belongings along with a roof over my head. The simplest mis-conception of words and I am ready to leave everything behind, I am ready to die. "You have to live" these words crawl under my skin, why didn't someone else tell me before. Why didn't someone else just say in point blank honesty that I have to live, that I had not choice but to live. There was no other option, in your hazel eyes I found the friendship that I never had. I have had friendship yes, but not someone like this. Someone I can love without being in love with them. Disagreements happen and I'm caught in the middle of hail storm and I am not strong enough to fix it this time, cold stares and sharp words send me over the edge and I am sitting on the ground, crying wanting to go home but knowing that I do not have one. And so I build, I fall deep into my mind and begin to build a tower. I want you to think that I am okay and allow me to help you with everything, I will take whatever you throw at me-- These are the things I say to myself, even though in the past people have said things and I have, had a hard time processing it. I begin to build a tower, I will stop being selfish and thinking about killing myself, I must build myself strong so that I may help my friends, so that I may live to see them get better and be happy-- My problems do not count in my mind. No cliffs, no traffic, no razors, no pills-- Just let me be sane and help them through these tough times, please.
� � �I occupy my brain, writing names out of stone, words of stone help me realize that I still have some form of creativity in my veins. I can't focus on the book I am reading, ask me what The Bell Jar was about and I couldn't tell you because I was spacing out half the time I was reading the book. Sometimes I don't even do work in the classes I do like, I'm too busy writing in my journal about things that aren't real. I tune out the world with headphones in my ears-- but then my headphones die and you give me a new pair. I am confused by your generosity. You are so devoted, your love is unconditonal, you were self promoted-- I never asked you.
� � �There is not gas in my car and some reason you offer to give me money, I refuse-- I cannot except your money. There is not way that I am that greedy, my father's genes whisper in the back of my mind to take the money but my heart is my mother's and I cannot accept your money. But you give it to me anyway, you help me out even though you don't need to. But still the tower builds, I cannot speak of the tower that I am hiding inside, it is the only home I have. I cannot speak of the sleeping pills I wish I had, so that I may sleep forever considering I'm alway so tired. I cannot speak of the bell jar that is hanging above my head, that is slowly-- ever so slowly coming down on me. I cannot scream, no one will hear me, when the bell jar comes upon you-- there is nothing no one can do. My friends are my everything, my apparational faith. But where were any of you when I was screaming to my God, what am I coming too?
The tower fell, the bell jar cracked and the broken ruins is where I laid, another home destoryed. The shards of the jar I craved a heart into my leg, pretty little heart, the razor kissed my fingers when I pried it out of it's plastic holder. I was bleeding, my heart was pounding, I was crying, everything was gone.
Then the phone rang.
� � �You tore my castle down, stone by stone letting the wind through my windows destroying everything in it's path and all you found was me.
A broken girl.
A old tune.
A broken doll.
A crying clown.
A stringless instrument.
A pictureless frame.
A dog without it's master.
A child without a home.
A battered rose.
You watched me build up my tower, trying to hard to be strong just to have it knocked down and I was left crying on the ground, in the ruins of a home that will never be.
� � �But still you do not leave. I tell you to, so often and it hurts me to see you worry like I do. It seems all those weeks ago back in the Industrial Park when you first saw me go down with an attack of panic, why did the God of nature, Pan scare me so much to give me a permenant disorder to deal with. It seems that the moment you comforted me in that sheer moment of pain, I passed on a curse to you. A curse to worry about everyone you love, to hold back your own problems, to see them as minor compare to those suffering around you. I gave you that curse, and I am sorry to say but if I could I would take if back. But even if I did, you would just tear my castle down just to find the battered rose that is me.
As I do for you though. I would tear your castle down stone by stone and let the wind run through your window until I could find nothing but what you became because of me, because of my problems that you worry about so much to the point it makes you sick and hold a katana to your throat. A battered rose.
There's nothing left but a battered rose.