Tag Archives: depression

In moments like these
I wish for a choice
I wish I could be free
In moments like these
My head is heavy with delirium
With the struggle to end existence
Dope me up
Send me home
But I can’t because I can’t even get up now
How could I end it
When I can’t do more than write these words
And think these thoughts
Drink these lies and
Sleep away time
I need freedom
But I feel even more
That I will never receive it
That I carry this
Which will haunt me forever

Unwritten on 12/16/18 1:56 am


My heart rockets out of my body
Back. And forth
I pant without anyone else around
I’ve been alone
For all this time
The glare over taking my eyes
You don’t understand
You couldn’t know
This lack of intimacy poisons my soul
I writhe in depression
Cravings hunger for my next obsession
As I crumple completely empty endlessly
Seeking fulfillment in a world
Where it can’t be bought
Has never been sold
I’m alone alone alone again
My own breath my only companion
The grease from my hair
The growing stench in my bed
All these things
As I claim to rest
Lies fester
No one will ever find me beautiful
My life is a small hamster wheel
That turns again and again
I can’t break this cycle
I was made for this small feat
To impress people outside
But to never let anyone in
I have no more time
I have no more energy
To fight these lies
I allow them to consume me
To drown in them in vices I taunt and tease
I got nothing done that I said I would
I can now but I refuse
Will showering and jumping on this train and wearing make up with slightly seductive clothes make me happy
I think not
I think not
Will these people on my phone whom I have to set up to meet
Make me happy?
I think not
Nothing else exists in this world
I will just let this bitterness in
I will just become jade itself
Fragile and cynical
Destroyed from view
I mourn the death of my innocence
I mourn the days of youth

unwritten 6/15 6:39 pm

this sadness string
is broken in me
because every time i try to strum
it rings back empty
im collapsing, my inner conscious crinkles
under the weight of attacking pressure
and an uncontrollable lack of self discipline
what i want is not what i do
what i do is not what i want
who i desire is not here
who i am lies shattered there
i say you are everything
but everything has consumed me
i meta morph eyes under the black light
into a person you wouldn’t recognize
she stabs your back multiple times
she cares not about the boundaries wise
she only stumbles over her own two feet
past her own convictions
lost in between the black and white
never willing to return home
numb from the colorless existence
rotted three days in the belly of defeat

maybe one day. i’ll be old and happy. i’ll have lived a full life. i’ll have nothing more to achieve.
maybe one day. things won’t feel so heavy. it won’t be so hard to wake up. and pretend like im free.
maybe one day. i won’t breakdown so much. i won’t cry or yell or scream or curse.
maybe one day. i’ll be tired but fulfilled. and so then i’ll be satisfied not burdened with guilt.
or maybe one day. all this will end. i will let uglies take the best of me. and i’ll never see you again.

posting all my unwritten drafts #1

2 years ago i started this blog. 2 years ago i was in Singapore sitting at a 13 year old girl’s white wooden desk with cold tile cooling my feet and hot air frizzing my hair. 2 years ago i was an emotional zombie. i was carrying around a hurt that dragged on the ground when i walked around. a hurt that collected all the muck from my past. a weight that i couldn’t shake, i just walked slower, forgetting that i used to run, convincing myself that i hate to run, convinced that walking forward one inch was impossible.

it’s weird how i can remember that pain. that state of being. of numbness. i remember how i couldn’t even smile or lift my head. i was determined to not be happy because happiness hurts. people take away happiness. they beat that shit out of you. they give you opportunities and right when you start to believe you can, they take it back. spit in your face. cut into your gut and rub their superiority in your throbbing wounds. they don’t see that their selfishness is the knife in your back and that their forgetfulness is the final twist that seals it there.

it’s not that my life is a 180 better now. if anything, i struggle with the same exact things that i did back then. so what’s different? besides the 2 years of breath that has left and entered my body.

im graduating college in 30 days. that’s different. i feel like the time i spent, the hurts i collected are worth something. and that’s different. not worth something like if i took them to a pawn shop, i’d find out i was actually a millionaire. but worth connecting. my life experiences have been the most powerful connecting tool i’ve ever had. my deep hurts are what drives my compassion for the hurting people around me. it’s just that. when i’m hurting, when my wounds open up again, when i’m being petty and passive aggressive or just plain aggressive, when i’m giving up and regressing. i’m back in Singapore. trapped inside that prison in my mind.

so i guess the biggest difference has been that i’ve escaped that prison. that i believe. whether that belief fills my entire body or just barely fits into a mustard seed. i believe that prison is not my home. i believe i can be free.

the first time i was somewhat suicidal (in my runaway sense) was in the spring of 2015. and even after that time, i couldn’t shake my desire to die inwardly. do you know what i mean? not that inside of me i felt like dying. i mean, i wanted to disappear from the inside. like how a cool swishy jacket can be pushed into one of its own pockets and become really tiny. like how a black hole eats itself. i wanted to disapparate from the world so that there wasn’t a trace of me at all. not a stain of my existence. this was the prison i found myself in. and even when i had good days and was functional and everything else. it was like i was on parole. i just wasn’t convinced that i had a reason to be in the real world.

and i guess that’s the difference. no, i haven’t found my reason to be in the world exactly. besides knowing that i am living for God’s glory. and i’ve found that just living to not let things get as bad as they’ve been before burns out pretty quickly too. the difference is that i believe. this blog helps me to believe. your comments, your support helps me to believe. the Bible and the time i spend with him grounds me in my belief. because at the end of the day i have nothing. i am nothing. if not for what i believe.

happy 2 years. here’s to many more.



there is ugliness pouring out of me. i want to say every curse word i know. i want to put all kinds of junk in my body. until i can’t feel hunger. or sadness. or pain.

i want emotional novacaine. the strong shit that loops out my brain. because in reality i can’t face life. i can’t understand myself. with all the blessings i get. i’ve spoiled my potential. im upset with the loss that each day takes away. a little bit more of who i thought i was. and returns a warped version of who i can be. all twisted by who i should be. i’ve out measured myself. in comparison to the giants. that are comparing themselves to giants. that aren’t comparing themselves to any standard but simply becoming the standard. by being themselves. growing giants. so far from my shrinking identity.

there is a life worth living. i’m just not sure about mine. i’m not sure about every grain of thought that runs through my mind and collects itself like plaque until it reeks of infection. wounds dripping blood because the scabs ripped off them. i’m not sure who my real friend is. i’m upset that i have to listen to all of your confessions. and that the people surrounding me are just as messed up and regressing.

i hate this place i’m in. it’s like a pit where the only way out is money even though money demands your joy and years of your life. yet we trade away joy for something that takes away life. because that seems to be the only way out of this shit hole. people revere it. even if you believe in God you need it. we steal it. rules melt, fearless.

i’m sorry mom that i’m not who you want me to be. i’m sorry that i can’t be free from these uglies. i’m sorry that i hurt you and disappoint you. i don’t want to be this way, but i guess the fact that i am suggests otherwise. i have no words to encourage myself. and i don’t want to hear yours either. so i’m in a never ending cycle, with the only guarantee of my impending doom. please please someone breakthrough. but for now, i’ll be here. not listening to anything but the ghost of my numbed out body cells decaying.




oh sadness sadness dear
hello again old friend
come draw the curtains
come lay with me in bed
on my chest heavy ladened
my burdens litter the floor
i can’t talk can’t dream can’t get up anymore
fixate on fixating
this question berating
your last smokes takes hits from that same drug defeat
“where are you going?”
where am I going?
the world’s moving while I’m stuck
staring at these two feet
not the son that rises
not the person carrying me
surely not securely
bend broken bent
my will to progress forward coward lies regressed enfolds depressed in folds repressed in fetal position possessed and fools repeat
i’m lost sadness
leave me please
but you overstay again until I’m crushed again and my motivations remain chained deceased

where are you going
©Kira Shymn

~~posted on 3.7.18
~~written on 3.5.18