Posts Tagged ‘death’


Starting out three months too soon,

He didn’t make it.

My twin was too little,

I took the nutrition,

This you’ll hear, is my rendition.

Left alone, parents aside.

Only touched out of necessity,

Rarely for love comfort,each time much brevity.

Fed through my head because I couldn’t feed.

A little weird, I think, because apparently I managed my needs:

In the womb, next to my brother,

The moment we’re out I don’t get another

Moment near him as they swooped him away,

Or fell into the bucket, there’s none who will say.

None who can or will tell me the truth as I stare off into space,

Appearing aloof.

Bitterness abounds as my family breaks apart.

It was at my birth, at my start.

Sure there were problems and problems before,

I can’t help but think I added to the stress more.

Regardless, I was an innocent life,

Quite fragile, delicate, and constantly under the knife.

They thought I was stupid, young, naive.

I knew what was going on, always protecting my reality,

Not wanting to believe,

That my parents couldn’t love me,

That they constantly grieve,

The three children they had

1 dead

1 dying

and the last, keeps trying.

That’s me, the last, a bundle of unknowns,

I stepped away to grow up on my own.

From a very young age I never connected,

They blamed birth, the brain bleed, always something indirect.

They never stepped up, they never confessed,

That all this, all this came from distress.

If they were dead, this life might make sense.

At the very least, I would have evidence, and my world not as dense.

I despise them, I pity them,

For parents they are not.

I used to want to leave, ran away a lot.

No one helped me as I sat in despair.

I was the crazy one, life perfectly unfair.

I was judged, ridiculed, abused all the time,

When I asked for help and spoke the truth, it was as if I did the crime.

I didn’t, I was just a little kid,

Shouldn’t have to take care of myself,

Yet I did.

This pattern created a grown up too soon,

From the age of 6 I was off, zoom zoom.

I began to rebel, only from them,

I began to stay away, always sent to my room.

The monster within me wouldn’t leave,

As I destroyed my things, myself, all in a vain attempt to grieve.

For not having a mommy to cuddle with when I was upset,

Not having a daddy as he was filled with his own, deep-seated regret.

I did have Barbara, emotionally and completely destroyed.

I did have Ken, an unstable adult child, who I sometimes enjoyed.

Then there’s Michael, who never really liked me,

He noted this before and to the police I was crazy,

And last from my childhood was Judi, far from a lady.

I yearned to connect, to please have a family,

No, not for me,

That would be uncanny.

As my world unraveled, I followed suit,

How did I not die on this treacherous pursuit?

I was done, ready to die,

What kind of life is this, all alone, with no one nearby.

Somehow I’ve lived, they call it fortuitous,

They call it a miracle, they call it bliss.

I don’t know what to say,

I just don’t want to struggle, through this, day after day.

I want to live, to stay alive,

Yet there’s uncertainty and death has been near,

The angels called for me, and I was like a deer,

Caught in the headlights, unsure how to proceed,

As the angels waited nearby,

Would I concede?

I didn’t go, not wanting to die alone,

But I was ready, done with the drone,

Of being sick, unloved and unwanted,

The only hope I had left, slowly dissipating,

My life was on the edge as I was done fighting,

Too scared to die, too tired to live,

I drifted through the night, unable to give.

I woke in the morning, rather confused,

The medicine finally worked, I didn’t lose.

I was alive, albeit tired, weak and meek,

Wanting to finish school, week after week.

I loved where I lived, not wanting to leave,

Yet I had to, this time,

If I wanted to breathe.

Life is breath,

Breath is life,

I must remember this pattern to be rid of the strife.

I’m alive now, I’m writing this down,

Missing Denmark, my twin, and my upside-down frown.

I was happy there, though I was sick.

I had friends, ones I could pick.

I’m lost here, where I don’t belong,

I’ve nothing here, not even a mom.

I have me, only me, someone I despise,

Who stole from a baby, ripped apart a family,

All by being alive.





The person who I’m supposed to put my life in the hands of nearly killed me.

That explains why I felt half alive, half dead. His error caused me to have sepsis, for the second time in less than three months.

He didn’t listen when I asked if it was placed properly. The nurses didn’t listen when I said I was in too much pain for the procedure. No one really listened, until it was almost too late.

I was prepared to die.

The only way I’ve thought of to describe sepsis is an ache unlike any I’ve experienced.

Ever had the flu? The ache is kinda from the inside out. Sepsis is somewhat reverse. The ache starts at the core and then spreads deeper and deeper throughout the body.

There’s a reason some people refer to it as blood poisoning. I felt nausea, and not from pain. Nausea because my blood felt like a substance that didn’t belong in my body, like it was defective, dangerous, and poisoned.

I lost count but I think it was at least seven rounds of strong antibiotics through IV that was administered to me, using an antibiotic that is prescribed and reserved for severest of infections

You know yourself better than anyone, even a doctor knows you. Don’t trust these people who act like paragods, they too are human, and they too can make detrimental mistakes.

Be Real

Posted: 20 J0000002+00:00 2011 in Health, mental
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I’ve dealt with death before.
Death of a close friend sucks. I’m sitting around people who have no idea. They don’t share the pain I’m in, not that I want them to.

At the same time, I feel sad, and sitting around smiling people feels, well, awkwardly inappropriate. I’m sad. I don’t think I want to remove myself from this cloud of sadness.

Last year I realized I’ve never actually grieved anything. It’s a process that was constantly stifled through my or other’s means. I am a product of an extremely invalidating childhood. I don’t want to continue that cycle.

Let me grieve, don’t come up to me with fake smiles and “how are you’s?” that don’t mean anything. Stop falsely caring and either care, or don’t. No more middle ground.


A Part Waiting

Posted: 20 J0000002+00:00 2011 in mental
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I’m sitting here,
talking to you.

You know what’s weird?
You’re talking back.
It’s weird because you’re not here.

At this moment your body is either being prepared or you are being placed, ever so delicately I hope,
in the ground.

I’m waiting.
Knowing I can’t come for your departure.
An ocean apart physically.
Worlds apart metaphorically,
or perhaps,

What am I waiting for?
You’re not coming.
How are you talking to me?
Maybe I shouldn’t question it.
I love it.

After not speaking for nearly two years,distanced from one another due to severe mental illness or perhaps,
Extraordinary circumstances culminating in severe mental illness.
Because it’s hard to imagine that you or I were ever as sick as we were.
Until I write about you in past tense,
that’s all I can do from this point.

You’re gone, you’re actually physically gone.

And I’m here talking to you,
waiting for the yesterdays we had and the tomorrows we will never see together.

Death did us ‘part.


I Laugh

Posted: 20 J0000002+00:00 2011 in Health, mental
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I laugh because I want to frown.
I smile because I want to drown.
I am sinking, deeper and deeper.
All I show you is happiness.
Showing happiness is easier.
Easier than all the time you might spend worrying.
Worrying about me, worrying about life.
I make it easier for you.
I make it easier for me.
It’s not easy though.
Life is not easy.
It’s a pool, an in contained pool with chaos floating all around.
With people lying in the pool, dying.
People are dying.
Do you hear me?
People are fucking dying.
Do you even care?
I thought not.
That’s really why I didn’t tell you.
That’s why I made everything look ok.
That’s why I smile.
That’s why I laugh.
Because life is rough and if you go along for the ride, you won’t make it.
Not if you show your true emotions.
You can’t make it.
You’d die before you do.
And me, I’ll just die smiling.
It’s better that way, isn’t it?


See that one over there?

The one walking with a limp…  no one actually cares.

Wearing clothes that are hand-me-downs,

because face it, no one like her ever wears ball gowns.

She has always had trouble fitting in.

Her siblings, they just grin.

They watch her get hit, or shoved or threatened.

Standing by, they have their lesson:

“As long as we set her up,

We won’t get beat down.

As long as she gets the brunt.

Only she wears the frown.”

The little girl keeps trying to tell people about horrors abound.

No one believes her unless they witness it for themselves.

Or perhaps in a gutless act of mercy, just protecting oneself.


These kids grew up in the same town,

Two look up while one looks down.

One goes home at night, unable to sleep.

Yet, all who are able to help, do not… and the girl, she just weeps.

Locked behind doors because her eyes won’t shut.

Praying to the sky that this isn’t a permanent rut.

As the thought of kidnappings or murders in the night leave her frozen.

She wonders each time, “why was I chosen?”

Chosen to live a life full of love, devoid of chaos.

She pours her heart into living each day.

As it gets harder and harder to live, she sways.

Always on the brink between life and death.

Emotions long gone, she’s told she’s insane.

In a journal entry from age nine, she acknowledges the pain.

In a vain attempt to let others in,

She climbs further and further into the hole, hoping someday she’ll win.


First to clarify, I am not swaying to any particular religion in this post. I identify as a Jew, and I chose the term “Apostle” because I find it hard to insert a more appropriate word, lest I conjure one.

I’ve been thinking about religion quite a bit lately. It has been in my face in minute amounts for a variety of reasons. I recently was accepted by the study abroad committee that overturned their initial decision and is allowing me to study abroad this fall. In my application to the program’s housing options, it is suggested to mention faith.

A friend on Facebook continually tries to convert me to Christianity, finally I’ve asked him to stop-we’ll see how that goes.

I tried a new temple last Friday for Shabbat. I haven’t attended a Shabbat service in quite some time (a few months) and it was a refreshing service.

I am currently taking a class called Ritual Studies where many religions and spiritualities are examined.

These are some of the instances which have allowed me to think more so about religion and life. In particular, my focus has been on circumstances and unforeseen or unfortunate events. Aside from the cliche phrase, “You’re only given as much as you can handle” (which I don’t believe anyway because then non-religious suicide attempts and completions wouldn’t exist), arguably, some people are dealt a pretty interesting Deck of Life cards.

As I may have mentioned previously, I once worked with someone who knew a bit of my past and present state. Something bad had recently occurred and while talking with me she said something to the effect, “Man I wish I had some significant life event happen, I think it would give me character”. I was flabbergasted to hear this from her, and oftentimes this thought circulates in my mind.

I believe that perhaps some of us are dealt a significant amount of hardships to decrease suffering in the world. If less people suffer, even if they suffer a great deal, would that be better? Out of the thousands (or more) people I have crossed paths with, only three of these people would be categorized for lack of a better term, “Small-Scale Disciples”. Also, I do not mean to say that each of these people lives a joyous life, far from that in most cases. What I do mean by this is that the mass of hardships these people have endured is practically astronomical in terms of what others endure.

stronger image

I imagine suffering of other to be considerably decreased with these folks enduring the brunt of extreme hardships.

Person 1:

Youngest child died at 1.5 years old from drowning.

Person 1 has a child with atypical autism. The night the drowning occurred, person 1 had been dealing with said child all day (rage attacks and emotional stress), asked husband to take child out with him at night to a softball game husband was participating in. Husband refused. Person was physically and emotionally exhausted by this time, and in a moment of absentmindedness, child was left unattended in bathtub.

Person 1 has a diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder. This Axis 2 diagnosis is challenging enough to deal with in itself, never mind when you’re raising three kids, constantly reminded the fourth is no longer around.

Person 1 is now going through a divorce with husband. Husband has not lived with family for almost two years, mother takes care of kids on her own most of the time.

Person 1 has neglectful family that never attended to her needs.

Person 2:

Survivor of ritualistic sexual abuse/incest for four years.

At 16, witnessed best friend’s brother (2 years old) be hit by a car, while she and best friend were babysitting him. Toddler died as a result of the accident.

Former heroin addict, which was mainly attributed to severe eating disorder and keeping trim.

Severe eating disorder, in and out of hospitals, on the brink of death often.

Much more that can’t possibly be explained in a post (if I want to keep reader’s interest).

Person 3:

Me. I’ve pretty much summed up the majority of my challenges along the way.

To clarify, I’m not insinuating that any of us are martyrs; what I mean by small-scale apostles is that we take many of the burdens, burdens that generally could fill about five people’s lives and yet are compacted into our one individual life to effectively restore or maybe contain chaos to less entities.