What do you do when you HATE your job but you cannot quit because you need to eat? The job pays your bills and saves your independence. To resign means to redesign my aims to always work. What do you do when the economy is so jacked up, that you feel blessed even with a hacked up job because there are several persons with no work yet a family to feed. However, you have those emotional battles everyday that devotionals cannot help to wake an excitement to seize the bull by the horn, contributing towards society. Sitting at a desk and literally feeling brain cells dying because you are sighing over completed tasks in an hour and you wonder what madness that included you in such disarray. A foray of persons having the time of their life, thieving from my complete tasks. Yet no one in management says a word but when I voice that absurd rate at which the work reaches me, I am deemed as uncooperative.
What the fuck I am doing with my life?
I know I should forget about you:
but slowly I am.
But I cannot stop thinking about:
Umm, time provides a determined factor.
I force myself to stop, I try to block all memories:
I do not have to force myself anymore.
I do not have to push memories or emotions:
I am no longer a slave to those insane moments, it went away on its own.
I guess I am floating back to sane land.
You told me once to follow my heart and not my head.
Did you know at that time that my heart would long day lead back to you:
And then back to me.
Getting my heart back.
This poem is a combination of two sets of thoughts. You thought I was bipolar, hmmm. I wrote the parts about cannot forget weeks ago but a few days ago, I realize that something change. So I decided to combine the old feelings with the new into one poem. I thought it captured two different hearts in a ways two poems would not. It is not bipolar love :P.
You ask how am I doing but when I try to explain to how I feel, you quickly tell me well “others have it worst.”
I know very well that my life is not the most beaten down track in this endless race.
However if you do not try to understand my emotional and mental composition , how can you know me.
How can you tell that I am not a great pretender, that my smiles are not staged to display a happiness that I do not feel.
Listen to me, listen to my words, watch my expressions
Learn to read me, to know when everything is “ok” and when circumstances are “great.”
Until then, I feel like you do not care to understand me and I am never understood and that is an uncomfortable place to occupy.
Try to understand me…
I knew it! Things were moving along to smoothly, this is my world after all, things bum and crash.
Here all along waiting for the axe of disappointment to drop and oh how my heart constricted.
Did my thinking, bring this diversion my way or is this the part which calls for acceptance.
After all life is perfectly imperfect.
Does happiness really exist in my arena?
At the time I though your ions would fuse with mine, in time for a perfect explosion.
You dropped this bombshell on me, it is raining Baghdad 2008 over her, umbrella up!
This is how Yanukovych feels now, breathing with heavy constriction.
Emotional heart attack: breathe in, breathe out, try your utmost to keep the tears at bay.
Wild stallions stomping across those beautiful butterflies.
On the other hand of the sceptre, I have that new weird feeling to surrender.
Why? What did you do to me?