Obsolete

When I was a sophomore in high school I wrote this poem about feeling obsolete.

I can not remember exactly how it went but it was something along the lines of me sitting on Big Ben (in London where my father lived at the time) and being able to look into his window and feeling obsolete. My father and step-mother had just had a little boy. My little brother. I was excited and happy but after my visit that past summer, I knew everything was going to change between my dad and I.

I think that was my first outcry for help. I think that was when my brain was trying to tell me I was broken and needed help. 20 years later and here I am still struggling with my mental health. Except now, it is so far worse than it ever was.

Yesterday I had to turn to my medication to help me out of my anxiety attack. In turn, it put me to sleep. One of the sleeps you don’t want to ever wake up from. He came home to get me out of bed. He always says he wants me to go with him but deep down I know it is not always to spend time with me. He fears leaving me alone for multiple reasons. Sometimes, I feel like it is pity. During arguments he breaks down and says how exhausting it is to keep himself and myself moving but he does it because he loves me and doesn’t want to lose me. I question it often.

I did get out of bed though when he arrived. After sometime I was able to somewhat come out of my “funk”. I don’t know what better way to explain it. I’m awake. I’m aware. But I am a zombie and don’t want to talk, move, or be around anyone. He was able to get me to a point where I smiled, laughed, learned a tik tok dance and even recorded it.

My semi-good mood didn’t last for wrong. It depleted for a couple reasons and I went back down fast. I did attempt to turn my mood but I could feel from him that he had just had enough. I decided to just go to bed. I don’t think he realizes I thrive off his energy. Does he actually care?

I  don’t think I will ever not feel obsolete, alone, and pity from others. I feel like because they know I am sick they stick around and pretend to care or love me. Like my family. It is a hard pill to swallow. I know I have caused everything that has happened to me. It is no one else’s fault but my own. But I don’t want fake or pity.

I just don’t want to feel any of it anymore. I want to be obsolete. I want to be forgotten. I want to be gone.

Always

#BPDWarrior

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May 17, 2022

*hugs*