Quantcast
Poetry
August

"August" - 8/13/16

wtf is going on? I haven't had this many friends tell me
they were depressed and contemplating suicide since college.
I thought the older we got the more secure we were supposed to feel?
I want to think this is mental illness rearing its ugly head
that statistically some of my friends are bound to go through it
but the fact that they are all LGBT artists and generally alienated
from family makes that unlikely. I was always unconditionally
loved, if not altogether accepted for the free spirited anomaly
I was - a battle which still continues in its way, every time I have to
explain my life's "mistakes" away - but always there has been
appreciation, understanding, attention, curiosity. I get the distinct
sense that the friends I'm witnessing suffering in a decade when
they should be more than thriving is no different than I might be
in their collective shoes, had I not been told I'd always have
a place to come home to and a cheering section for my wildest
ambitions even if overbearingly high-pressured at times.

wtf is going on? I haven't seen this many - count them three, in one
week - good friends tell me they were depressed contemplating
giving up hope completely since I was in my 20's. I thought the older
we got the less we were supposed to care what other people think?
I vacillate daily between utter insecurity and boundless confidence
but never am I for one second unaware of this precious gift - to love,
to live, to hope, to dream and I want to scream on behalf of sensitivity,
soulfulness, inevitable self-doubt when self has not be nurtured and
doubt hasn't been dissuaded it feels sometimes like there's nothing
I can do to comfort more than this few and seemingly ever increasing
number of beautiful empaths overlapping in so many ways with my
own path yet here I am, once again, pleading for other people's lives.

wtf is going on? I am a planner and I over-think nearly everything and
in some ways I suppose that tendency saves one from living so in the
moment that when the moment fails you miserably you can't see past
it. I always think "it could be me" and I know this with certainty: it has
only been music, recurrently, that has saved me. I wish with all my
might everyone had this Muse maybe then these emotions could
diffuse more easily and I wouldn't be sitting here wondering what I
could do, more concretely, to convince individuals I love
it gets better even though I know that it does.