You tell yourself: 'you're ok.'
The round alarm rings and the broken shower head pours, work starts at the same time as yesterday. (and the day before) You're eight minutes late to work. You're always eight minutes late to work and your boss thinks it's because of your child, so says nothing. You work quickly, you work quietly.
The keyboard tapping is louder than you.
No one has ever seen you outside of work, but you seem nice enough, so they accept you (minus group hugs). Guys at work, they flirt, pull at your hair and stand close enough to smell the perfume pulsing off of your breasts. It doesn't matter if your face is a stop sign, because the boyfriend you say you have, has never shown face nor muscle here, nor has he ever called. Not even on Valentine's day.
That's because he's fictitious. Based off the man you love, that loved everything about you, but your personality. You've not given your phone number out in two years and you tell them your cell phone never rings because you get no reception here.
(that's partly true)
You hate to lie, but the truth's a viper winding up your calf. And when the careless manager asks you why you look depressed, leaving your eyes wide, a mouth full of thumb tacks; You realize, for the first time, how you hate him.
At some point, someone weaves a joke in your direction. Trying to smile, you laugh instead, realizing it sounds a lot like cardboard tearing. You don't like how close that rubs truth on the litmus paper of your face, but the cat is clawing at the bag again, to get out.
The joke ends with the guy calling you 'kid'. Bristling, you tell him 'ok grandpa'. It hurts him, watch while his face becomes quicksand, while your own face reflects back to you, from his convex shades. You smile with a bitter root wedged under your tongue, you hate him too.
And if he thought you were dandelions before, now he thinks you're weeds. Compares you to a woman that is fourty-five, and how you look the same age. You're in your twenties.
He's an asshole. And you know this. You tell him, too.
But somehow, after that, your lips seal like a vacuum and your voice is a part of mythology now, that no one can prove.
Inside your head,
you're a standing woman in a glass fish tank. The walls are higher than you, they will always be higher than you. Water is pooling at your feet, and it's warm so you try to acclimate. While the clock starts napping as the day winds down, the water rises. You're choking on the inside, as it seeps into your nose. You can't pull your neck back any further, and your tipsy toes are stretched all the way up. Trying to breathe.
The glass is so smooth your hands look like suction, pressed against it, if someone were looking from the outside. But they're not. By the time you reach home, there's one bubble left in behind your lips, and your hair floats like angels in space.
Walking in your front door, you wonder where the bleach is,
or some rope.
When the water fills completely, spills over the edge of the glass tank, no one will ever hear you scream;
they never heard you scream anyway.
Author notes
...
In a list
- Faves • next in list
- Black Depression • next in list
- fav.s [pt. III] • next in list
- Light.house [more fav's] • next in list
A contest entry
- oh, to just disappear... by CarCrashHumor.
1500 points, ended August 15, 2007, 48 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 30 of 30
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this was very refreshing. i was expecting some kind of back story to come in and explain why her life is so bad, and i like that it didnt.
I enjoyed the whole thing, but especially the cell phone reception part. As I was reading through I was relating to lots of different part of it, but especially that. The girl i sit next to at work texts her boyfriend on her phone all day. When i look at my phone, sitting silently there, i sometimes think maybe its just bad reception. So as I was relating to that part i thought in my head "Well... sometimes it really DOES have bad reception" then I read
(that's partly true)
and I loved this twice as much. -
okay...just....wow. I started readin this expecting another teenage emo piece that I would have politely called "interesting" and left it at that. I got WAY more. As much as this is a dark piece (and I hope to goodness it's fiction, otherwise, honey, you desperately need to talk to SOMEONE)I was pulled in, enthralled. Partly because I recognised it from my own past, but also because even something so dark was written with a beautiful lyricism. I absolutely loved the last two lines. Heartbreaking.
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I've dealt with depression all my life, and this could very well be a day in my life. Well-written, and i think many people can relate. Good job.
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I agre this was real good the imaginary I do understand your point. Thank you for shaing and it was a pleasure to read.
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It was very good. Very good imagery. I understand the concept of hating pretty much everybody for barely none, or no reason. Good write.
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bewtiful
"You hate to lie, but the truth's a viper winding up your calf. And when the careless manager asks you why you look depressed, leaving your eyes wide, a mouth full of thumb tacks; You realize, for the first time, how you hate him.
"
I loved the imagery and how you show someone suffering silently.
"you're a standing woman in a glass fish tank. The walls are higher than you, they will always be higher than you. Water is pooling at your feet, and it's warm so you try to acclimate. "
"The glass is so smooth your hands look like suction, pressed against it, if someone were looking from the outside. But they're not. By the time you reach home, there's one bubble left in behind your lips, and your hair floats like angels in space. "
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This is a striking piece, and I really identify some of the feelings I've felt in this piece, to my own life. I'm surprised it hasn't made it far in the contest.
'they never heard you scream anyway.'
An amazing ending. Kind of silences you into shock.
<33
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Wow. This was so great to read. As a fellow sufferer of depression, I know most of these feelings all too well. Not only did you capture them acurately, they are beautifully worded. The elegance of the language really adds to the bleakness of their meaning. Makes a sense of disguise. And just... wow...
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I recently learned of something called fundemental attribution error. Where one reacts to circumstances and behaviors by assigning less than complementary character or worth to the person crowding boundaries. For instance, someone pulls out in traffic, then drives slowly. You rant, idiot! who said you could drive! When the truth is, the car is running poorly or they are feeling unwell, just trying to get home.
Some people are introverted; some extroverted. With our various passed experiences, learning styles, personality types, it is easy to be rubbed the wrong way. In a community, each brings something valuable, Like the various instruments that make up an orchestra. One could try to allow more grace in such circumstances. Choose to see honest attempts to connect and validate, rather than someone just looking to exploit. It is an alternative to choosing to hate.
(Now,Now. Stop hating me...) -
Again you show the reader the ability that you have with prose & the duality of wanting to reach out and have the weight of depression lifted is not possible whilst the sufferer suffers fools not gladly,so the day is punched in and out like a boxing match with others and the shelf of self where the sufferer silently screams for release.Methinks fourty-five may be forty-five and unsure about acclimate,it may be an american word like conversate,just mentioning as in the UK we say acclimatize,neither are wrong nor right,words are for communication and you did that but at both read throughs the number and acclimate caused me to pause a nanosecond longer.What you have the ability to do is relay your angst and all it's depths without making it a pity party but pressing the feeling onto the reader.Often other poets get churlish,stating don't give me your pain,tell me about your grief or 911 without pain and in the same breath they say give me Sexton,I need to read Sexton,nothing against her at all,I like her work but perhaps you will,in time,be emulated like her and others will clamour don't give me your pain,give me blkwidow,after the person has left this mortal coil it seems we hear them louder than when they were walking with the pain,hard to understand but there it is,a well written insight into the emotions echoing within the emptiness felt within the cave of the self as it threatens to cave in completely.
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great
Very good poem!! you told the truth!!! keep on writting
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Sad And Truthful
vivid imagery as usual. No matter how low you fly, someone picks you up on their radar. They want to intrude into your space and categorize you so that THEY are comfortable around you. You don't want them to know that you even mind the intrustion. Damn! You did it again! Showed what it's like, made me feel it all and look at my worthless life. Damn!
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i've lived too much of my life this way. it's the dealing with other people that drives me underground... the chore of being social with the face and all. the only safe place is home...
powerful write on depression that i hope many people read and get. -
i believe everything worth saying has been said already. no need for me to review - because there is nothing left to add here.
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I am sorry to hear that you copped out of reviewing. You probably weren't feeling up to it at the time, but you know full well that it doesn't matter at all, what others think. And I always want to hear your opinion. Especially on my prose work.
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brilliant write. This hit me and evoked so much inside.
honestly.
Good luck in the contest
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Mind you, not on a daily basis, but I've known this feeling too. You know the being 'alone in a crowd' type feeling. You are extremely skillful at bringing these emotions to light. Good luck in the contest.
Sincerely,
Leo Long
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There's a crowd of people here attempting to emulate you. It's not working for them, but they are attempting none-the-less.
There are moments when even I sit back and gasp for breath after reading your pieces.
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You're the second person to tell me that. But I don't know who you're talking about emulating me? I don't know anything of it.
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strong
I so get this. Although when I get that depressed I skip work/class and lay on my couch in my pjs all day. And I don't get as bitter (although maybe I would if I left the house). I understand that feeling, bleach, rope, it doesn't really matter, anything will do, even if it's not real quick or painless.
Very descriptive and does a good job of conveying the heaviness of depression. But, journals are very rarely written in second person. I think second person works well for this piece, but not with the title. You could change the POV, but I'd recommend changing the title instead. Or you can leave it as is; it's your poem. Over all, aside from that little thing, I think it's a damn good write.
~Kate
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You've not given your phone number out in two years and you tell them your cell phone never rings because you get no reception here.
(that's partly true)
you ripped my guts out with this one....the way you started it was painfully brilliant. its never i am okay, its always you are okay. separating what you see from what 'they' can not. not knowing which is which sometimes, more so not knowing which is truly not okay.
i loved the tone of this...for me, it was perfect. as i read i was reading to myself. i can relate so much to this its actually refreshing. i needed this..once again you write something i need to read.
this deserves gold. no doubt. well worth the read. beautifully real and raw. loved it.
blu
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flawless.
really it was. I dotn know any other way to describe it than that. never stop writing, you are an amazing inspiration. -
jesus.
I don't really know what to comment on. It feels.. un-human to comment on the devices you used, the effectiveness of form and line-breaks. But I'd be crossing a line maybe if I commented too deeply on the content
I'll say..
This really hit me. It was powerful, and.. it almost screamed, but it felt actually like a more silent downfall, like there was a scream but it never left your lips..
or maybe i'm just not listening..
I'm sure you'll win the contest.
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like always...well done...well done...you give sooo much insight into your life and the person you are...Bravo
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As i read i really felt it. It was like i was you. Im suffering from depression to and its a hard thing to go through.Good writting!
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This is really fabulous. As I read it, I could feel the glass enclose around me. Well done!
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This is such a powerful write. The prose is written beautifully, with the italics, which do such a good job of being introspective.
Blessed be.
Lizzy
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wow, it's amazing. i can really relate to this, i have severe depression and manic depression (for 2 years now.) i really see where you are coming from and i think it is wonderful.
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powerful !!!
Such pain and emotion here... truly a deep and sad write.. I only hope that this is not totally true.. but I can see where this could come from for I have suffered from deppression for years and know the battle it takes every day... thank you for sharing..
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