"though it goes without saying, i love you to death,
though i'm glad you're around to keep suckin' in breath.
and if, on the way there, i've caused a few grey hairs,
i still think you're handsome as hell.
from the drunk cigarettes all your friends let you smoke,
to the large diet fries with your non-diet coke,
you may be wider than tall, but i love you with all
my heart, does surge and swell -
happy birthday, daddy, i love you so -
60 years down and 60 to go."
6.28.2013
6.18.2013
i've got an itch
i've been thinking more and more about writing a novel lately and i don't really know what's stopping me. i guess when it comes down to it i'm a little bit afraid but also i just don't know what i should write? i've always been partial to fantasy but i feel like that's not something you can just pick up and run with - same for some sci-fi ideas i've been throwing around for ages. it's stuff that takes real research and planning and i feel like i'm going to run out of time and steam for that before the summer ends. and then part of me wants to write a sort of fiction/autobiography fusion where i basically just get out a lot of my own issues and bullshit in the form of basically diary entries that i could tweak enough to call make-believe, ahahaha. i don't know who the fuck would read that, though.and i don't even know, i'm busy with work a lot this summer and all i do is sleep when i'm home so chances are i won't even do anything, knowing me.
whelp.
whelp.
5.09.2013
ghjlkgjhb
"there's a flightpath outside of my window,
and i wonder who's coming back home,
and i wonder who's flying with lovers,
and i wonder who traveled alone.
are you chasing your dreams 'cross the country?
are you dreading the cross through the gates?
every night i watch wingtips go flashing,
and i wonder who's moving while i
wait.
one ticket to anywhere please,
one ticket to anywhere please,
one ticket to anywhere
please.
there's a flightpath outside of my window,
and i wonder what seats i could fill,
and i wonder where i might have gone to,
and i wonder if i might go still.
could i justify leaving tomorrow?
could i spend my time counting the dates?
every night i watch wingtips go flashing,
and i wonder who's moving while i
wait.
one ticket to anywhere please,
one ticket to anywhere please,
one ticket to anywhere
please.
and i wonder who's coming back home,
and i wonder who's flying with lovers,
and i wonder who traveled alone.
are you chasing your dreams 'cross the country?
are you dreading the cross through the gates?
every night i watch wingtips go flashing,
and i wonder who's moving while i
wait.
one ticket to anywhere please,
one ticket to anywhere please,
one ticket to anywhere
please.
there's a flightpath outside of my window,
and i wonder what seats i could fill,
and i wonder where i might have gone to,
and i wonder if i might go still.
could i justify leaving tomorrow?
could i spend my time counting the dates?
every night i watch wingtips go flashing,
and i wonder who's moving while i
wait.
one ticket to anywhere please,
one ticket to anywhere please,
one ticket to anywhere
please.
5.08.2013
fact:
i'm too small to love myself
while too tied up in someone else -
my heart just doesn't have the space
to keep two people in one place.
while too tied up in someone else -
my heart just doesn't have the space
to keep two people in one place.
4.29.2013
yearbook
"we never grew up, no
we just grew away.
and i know that we had to
to end up okay.
i won't tell you i miss you
when i'd rather say:
i know i'll stop hurting
and thank you someday."
we just grew away.
and i know that we had to
to end up okay.
i won't tell you i miss you
when i'd rather say:
i know i'll stop hurting
and thank you someday."
4.28.2013
zesxrdcftgvbhjnkm
gonna build up some moon-sand,
pat down the middle
siphon my blood and
little by little -
gonna leave me there,
gonna get some space.
pat down the middle
siphon my blood and
little by little -
gonna leave me there,
gonna get some space.
4.25.2013
my sense of self is shaky at best,
and it rattles in my chest
with every loose piece of me.
my confidence is better left alone;
doesn't reach down to the bone
and if that's shallow, let it be.
if i was whole, i wouldn't have
the space to give to you
under my skin.
without control, i finally have
the grace to live with you,
to let you in.
and it rattles in my chest
with every loose piece of me.
my confidence is better left alone;
doesn't reach down to the bone
and if that's shallow, let it be.
if i was whole, i wouldn't have
the space to give to you
under my skin.
without control, i finally have
the grace to live with you,
to let you in.
4.22.2013
driving home from the airport
today my dad finally told me to my face that he used to think i might have been anorexic.
all i could say was,
"i know."
all i could say was,
"i know."
4.21.2013
4.15.2013
heather
there's a whistle in the woodland
down beneath my throat;
in the would-have-if-i-could-land,
willing on the things i won't.
if you wait with all your senses,
you won't hear it on the wind.
bowling down the stone defences
rolling meadows, rolling in.
won't you take me back?
won't you take me in?
i am beaten from the path -
can't you hear the weather's wrath?
it's inside, it's surrounded, within.
there's a calling from the beaches
hung beneath my chest;
in the current, what beseeches
you lay me down to rest.
if you want with all your being,
you won't feel my sinking bones.
aching seas of never seeing,
breaking shores and breaking homes.
won't you take me back?
won't you take me in?
i am beaten from the path -
can't you hear the weather's wrath?
it's inside, it's surrounded, within.
it's inside, it's surrounded, within.
down beneath my throat;
in the would-have-if-i-could-land,
willing on the things i won't.
if you wait with all your senses,
you won't hear it on the wind.
bowling down the stone defences
rolling meadows, rolling in.
won't you take me back?
won't you take me in?
i am beaten from the path -
can't you hear the weather's wrath?
it's inside, it's surrounded, within.
there's a calling from the beaches
hung beneath my chest;
in the current, what beseeches
you lay me down to rest.
if you want with all your being,
you won't feel my sinking bones.
aching seas of never seeing,
breaking shores and breaking homes.
won't you take me back?
won't you take me in?
i am beaten from the path -
can't you hear the weather's wrath?
it's inside, it's surrounded, within.
it's inside, it's surrounded, within.
4.09.2013
if i could give a speech to a room full of sad people
my name is samantha hogan. i'm a 21 year old university student from a middle class family, with divorced parents and one younger brother named timothy.
every night i take 30mg of the anti-depressant cipralex and 25mg of the anti-psychotic apo-quetiapine. i have been "formally diagnosed" with clinical depression, obsessive compulsive disorder, borderline personality disorder, social anxiety and a generalized anxiety disorder, along with a dash of sociopathic tendencies. further psychoanalysis, including blood tests and brain scans, are to be negotiated when i head home this summer.
in the twelfth grade i was hospitalized twice, each time for two weeks, after separate suicide attempts. i don't know why i did it. maybe i was angry. maybe i was sad. mostly, though, i think i was just tired.
to be honest, i'm still tired. all the time. most of the time i can deal with it but sometimes, when i'm the last person crossing the street and all the cars are waiting for me, i still think the world would be a better place without me.
there are days when i can't get out of bed. and days when even when i do get out of bed, i take one look at myself in the mirror and crawl back under the covers. i sometimes go weeks without taking my medication just to see how long i can last. i drink even though i shouldn't because i'm afraid that people won't remember me unless i'm wild - and remembering things myself comes second to that, i guess.
i used to self harm, but it was short lived. i didn't really see a point. i figured if i was going to off myself, i should just off myself. i've purposely overdosed on my medication twice. i cut my wrists and crawled into a flooded tub in all my clothes once, and although i don't remember it, i apparently told the paramedics that i did it because "i felt heavy and i wanted to sink."
my life really hasn't been much better or worse than the average, i think. i don't have a reason to be depressed, and sometimes that's the hardest part about it. i have amazing friends who have been there for me the whole way through, and it hurts when they ask why i'm sad and i can't come up with an answer.
i hate knowing what i've put people through in my own selfishness and there are days when i have to sit myself down and remind myself that depression is a fault in chemical and not character. that i didn't choose to have these thoughts but i can choose which thoughts i act upon.
one of the hardest things i ever came to know was the simple truth of suicide: if you want to do it, you will. if you've been thinking about it or planning something and you haven't done it yet, there's a reason. it wasn't hard for me to find out how many pills i had to take to end it all. the internet is a beautiful tool, even in the wrong hands. the fact of the matter is that i knew how many pills i had to swallow and i didn't do it.
and as hard as it was for me to admit it, it was because i didn't mean it. i didn't want to kill myself. if i'd really wanted to, i would have counted out the pills more carefully, or cut "down the road and not across the street" or i would have found some way to not be here anymore.
but i am here.
and i am here to tell you not that it gets better - it gets worse. every time you think that you've managed to claw your way out of your darkest moments, a new darkness will be introduced to you and you won't think that you can't overcome it. but you will. and then a darker darkness will come and you will think that you can't overcome it. but you will. because as long as you remain alive, there is a light.
maybe you can't see it; maybe it's so far away that you'll have to drag your beaten self for miles before you find it. maybe it's so dim that your eyes can't detect it in between your tearful fits and sleepless nights. more often than not, though, it's inside you. and i know that sounds cheesy but i mean it, and you are going to have to scrape away all the pieces of you that you're not happy with until you can uncover that light and feed it.
i'm still digging. i have yet to find the thing that's supposed to make me love myself, or at the very least stop hating myself.
but it's a thousand step process, and no matter which direction you choose to go in, it's uphill both ways in a thunderstorm of self doubt and it's okay to take breaks along the way as long as they do not break you.
step one: i'm still here.
i'm still here to tell you that most of the time redemption doesn't come in a sudden burst, but in a grueling climb. and some will not make it. but you will.
there is no defeat in accepting help, from doctors or friends or prescriptions or help lines or food or exercise or video games or sleeping for 24 hours.
you have no control over the things that surround you. i'm here to tell you that those things might get worse. they probably will. they might get better, but that's something i can't promise to you. what i can say, without a doubt, is that as long as you keep clawing at the light, you will get better. you will get brighter even when you're learning that black is not as dark as things get.
my name is samantha hogan. i'm a 21 year old university student and my flaws do not define me. my disorders do not define me. my medications and my doctor's appointments and my days spent alone in my room do not define me.
i'm from a middle class family, with divorced parents, and one younger brother named timothy.
i have yet to find my light, but i am here.
it's nice to meet you. let's begin.
every night i take 30mg of the anti-depressant cipralex and 25mg of the anti-psychotic apo-quetiapine. i have been "formally diagnosed" with clinical depression, obsessive compulsive disorder, borderline personality disorder, social anxiety and a generalized anxiety disorder, along with a dash of sociopathic tendencies. further psychoanalysis, including blood tests and brain scans, are to be negotiated when i head home this summer.
in the twelfth grade i was hospitalized twice, each time for two weeks, after separate suicide attempts. i don't know why i did it. maybe i was angry. maybe i was sad. mostly, though, i think i was just tired.
to be honest, i'm still tired. all the time. most of the time i can deal with it but sometimes, when i'm the last person crossing the street and all the cars are waiting for me, i still think the world would be a better place without me.
there are days when i can't get out of bed. and days when even when i do get out of bed, i take one look at myself in the mirror and crawl back under the covers. i sometimes go weeks without taking my medication just to see how long i can last. i drink even though i shouldn't because i'm afraid that people won't remember me unless i'm wild - and remembering things myself comes second to that, i guess.
i used to self harm, but it was short lived. i didn't really see a point. i figured if i was going to off myself, i should just off myself. i've purposely overdosed on my medication twice. i cut my wrists and crawled into a flooded tub in all my clothes once, and although i don't remember it, i apparently told the paramedics that i did it because "i felt heavy and i wanted to sink."
my life really hasn't been much better or worse than the average, i think. i don't have a reason to be depressed, and sometimes that's the hardest part about it. i have amazing friends who have been there for me the whole way through, and it hurts when they ask why i'm sad and i can't come up with an answer.
i hate knowing what i've put people through in my own selfishness and there are days when i have to sit myself down and remind myself that depression is a fault in chemical and not character. that i didn't choose to have these thoughts but i can choose which thoughts i act upon.
one of the hardest things i ever came to know was the simple truth of suicide: if you want to do it, you will. if you've been thinking about it or planning something and you haven't done it yet, there's a reason. it wasn't hard for me to find out how many pills i had to take to end it all. the internet is a beautiful tool, even in the wrong hands. the fact of the matter is that i knew how many pills i had to swallow and i didn't do it.
and as hard as it was for me to admit it, it was because i didn't mean it. i didn't want to kill myself. if i'd really wanted to, i would have counted out the pills more carefully, or cut "down the road and not across the street" or i would have found some way to not be here anymore.
but i am here.
and i am here to tell you not that it gets better - it gets worse. every time you think that you've managed to claw your way out of your darkest moments, a new darkness will be introduced to you and you won't think that you can't overcome it. but you will. and then a darker darkness will come and you will think that you can't overcome it. but you will. because as long as you remain alive, there is a light.
maybe you can't see it; maybe it's so far away that you'll have to drag your beaten self for miles before you find it. maybe it's so dim that your eyes can't detect it in between your tearful fits and sleepless nights. more often than not, though, it's inside you. and i know that sounds cheesy but i mean it, and you are going to have to scrape away all the pieces of you that you're not happy with until you can uncover that light and feed it.
i'm still digging. i have yet to find the thing that's supposed to make me love myself, or at the very least stop hating myself.
but it's a thousand step process, and no matter which direction you choose to go in, it's uphill both ways in a thunderstorm of self doubt and it's okay to take breaks along the way as long as they do not break you.
step one: i'm still here.
i'm still here to tell you that most of the time redemption doesn't come in a sudden burst, but in a grueling climb. and some will not make it. but you will.
there is no defeat in accepting help, from doctors or friends or prescriptions or help lines or food or exercise or video games or sleeping for 24 hours.
you have no control over the things that surround you. i'm here to tell you that those things might get worse. they probably will. they might get better, but that's something i can't promise to you. what i can say, without a doubt, is that as long as you keep clawing at the light, you will get better. you will get brighter even when you're learning that black is not as dark as things get.
my name is samantha hogan. i'm a 21 year old university student and my flaws do not define me. my disorders do not define me. my medications and my doctor's appointments and my days spent alone in my room do not define me.
i'm from a middle class family, with divorced parents, and one younger brother named timothy.
i have yet to find my light, but i am here.
it's nice to meet you. let's begin.
3.25.2013
fghjkoiuythg
some people can put the truth in their mouths,
but it doesn't fit in mine.
the truth is far too small and strange;
it slips out through the cracks in my smile,
leaks between my teeth
and gets away.
some people can put the truth in their mouths,
to give to other people when they speak or sing or slip
kisses from one set of lips to another.
i'd give many things to be able to offer the truth to somebody,
so small and strange but simple and strong
in ways i cannot say.
some people can fit the truth in their mouths,
but it doesn't fit in mine.
but it doesn't fit in mine.
the truth is far too small and strange;
it slips out through the cracks in my smile,
leaks between my teeth
and gets away.
some people can put the truth in their mouths,
to give to other people when they speak or sing or slip
kisses from one set of lips to another.
i'd give many things to be able to offer the truth to somebody,
so small and strange but simple and strong
in ways i cannot say.
some people can fit the truth in their mouths,
but it doesn't fit in mine.
3.18.2013
spoiled fucking cunt/goddamn enough
so here's the thing:
i have an extremely small personal bubble and a very short window within which intrusion into this bubble can be accepted.
and there are days when i feel like i ought to feel bad about it or work on it or something,
but then there are days when someone who is supposed to know me and get me completely disrespects the fact that i experience this anxiety and struggle with it on a daily basis and i just never want to have to come in physical contact with anyone ever again unless it's to punch that person in the face.
long story short:
if i'm supposed to put up with your fucking issues, collected ~*~ESPECIALLY 4 U~*~ because you're a special fucking unicorn princess whose problems matter more than mine -
fuck it, don't even finish that thought.
just fuck off.
3.08.2013
rb 21
no homo, but i thought that i
could tell you that i love you and why
i'm glad to know you.
i'm not always there when i should be;
i don't know how to let you see
what i am trying to show you -
i love you more than words can say,
and time can't make that go away,
i think this every day:
i'm so glad you're here.
happy birthday, i love you,
and i'm so proud of you,
no homo,
but i thought you should know.
here's to 21,
let's get fucked,
let's have fun.
could tell you that i love you and why
i'm glad to know you.
i'm not always there when i should be;
i don't know how to let you see
what i am trying to show you -
i love you more than words can say,
and time can't make that go away,
i think this every day:
i'm so glad you're here.
happy birthday, i love you,
and i'm so proud of you,
no homo,
but i thought you should know.
here's to 21,
let's get fucked,
let's have fun.
2.23.2013
sad
i haven't been sad in a very long time.
don't get me wrong - it doesn't mean that i've been happy all along,
because that would be a bold-faced lie.
i cry a lot.
and for me, it used to be
that you cried when you were sad.
"if you're happy and you know it, clap your hands,"
because a child understands nothing
beyond the black and white. wrong or right. good and bad.
you laugh when you're happy and you cry when you're sad,
but i haven't been sad in a very long time.
i have been upset and stressed, angry and depressed,
on medication with little motivation to get better.
i have been tired.
i guess i used to cry when i was tired if you go back a few years,
but now my naps aren't fixing anything,
aren't stopping my tears or quelling my fears
that i will never get better.
people ask me what is wrong and i have nothing to say.
i haven't been sad in a very long time
because once you grow up you're not allowed to be sad.
no one is medicating children for not wanting to get out of bed,
for being quiet and angry and trapped in their head,
for being all the ways of wrong that i have grown up to be -
it isn't sad anymore.
it's just a problem.
it's an anti-depressant, anti-anxiety,
anti-fucking-psychotic issue of not being able to tell people
what is the matter with me.
"i'm sad,"
is not a thing that i have been allowed to say since very young.
"i'm sad,"
is not a thing that is good enough to excuse the fact
that i can't do all the things that normal people seem to be able to do with ease,
i can't tease out my words to explain all the ways in which
i am so sad all of the time,
i cry and i have no idea why.
i want to fall asleep and never wake.
every day feels like i'm just stuck here for the sake of everyone else,
stepping that much closer to breaking
and choking down chalky capsules
to quell the aching.
i haven't been sad in a very long time.
i don't know what to call what i have been.
please don't ask.
don't get me wrong - it doesn't mean that i've been happy all along,
because that would be a bold-faced lie.
i cry a lot.
and for me, it used to be
that you cried when you were sad.
"if you're happy and you know it, clap your hands,"
because a child understands nothing
beyond the black and white. wrong or right. good and bad.
you laugh when you're happy and you cry when you're sad,
but i haven't been sad in a very long time.
i have been upset and stressed, angry and depressed,
on medication with little motivation to get better.
i have been tired.
i guess i used to cry when i was tired if you go back a few years,
but now my naps aren't fixing anything,
aren't stopping my tears or quelling my fears
that i will never get better.
people ask me what is wrong and i have nothing to say.
i haven't been sad in a very long time
because once you grow up you're not allowed to be sad.
no one is medicating children for not wanting to get out of bed,
for being quiet and angry and trapped in their head,
for being all the ways of wrong that i have grown up to be -
it isn't sad anymore.
it's just a problem.
it's an anti-depressant, anti-anxiety,
anti-fucking-psychotic issue of not being able to tell people
what is the matter with me.
"i'm sad,"
is not a thing that i have been allowed to say since very young.
"i'm sad,"
is not a thing that is good enough to excuse the fact
that i can't do all the things that normal people seem to be able to do with ease,
i can't tease out my words to explain all the ways in which
i am so sad all of the time,
i cry and i have no idea why.
i want to fall asleep and never wake.
every day feels like i'm just stuck here for the sake of everyone else,
stepping that much closer to breaking
and choking down chalky capsules
to quell the aching.
i haven't been sad in a very long time.
i don't know what to call what i have been.
please don't ask.
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