I didn’t want to include what I had written in the earlier blog post so below is a rap I wrote while listening to some music (it will be below manga picture) and dealing with a friend who was being selfish at the wrong time for me to blow it over 🙂
Somehow, I ended up writing a rap this thanksgiving break. I guess after a night of terrors and watching a homemade movie of old memories kind of made me emotional.
Coming home is meant to feel so good
Remembering the joys of childhood.
But we gather around this awkward table
just looking through distorted eyes and throwing labels.
You’re fatter, stupider more of a fag.
G-d maybe they should make like Grey and invest in some gags.
The Apple Cider will be flowing
And mom will be counting the hours till going.
But my concern is a lip-lock
so potent and dangerous like Socrates and hemlock.
I better not drink or I’ll die.
Don’t need to be another thinking they’ve been crowned by versailles.
My head hurts, I could be pregnant
With a peasant’s kid
Whose floated through my life like a cheap ass tenant.
Isn’t this shit supposed to be magical and pleasant?
Jesus Christ, provide this selfish fool with an exit.
Or at least something like on last happy remnant.
I’m too young to be tired and sick
vowed to never be like my mom, dependent on a redneck hick.
And yet I’m tired from a free kick,
looking for magic and hope from a broomstick,
measuring the time till death with a yard stick,
In awe by a candle’s light able wick,
And remembering the times I’d lick a dick
like some kept chick,
now just wanting it to hurt from more then just a flick.
Fucking men and their schtick.
I should of cut deeper,
lived my life cheaper,
and took more meds to be a sleeper.
Then maybe the Heaven’s score keeper
Will see me as a more then the mistreated door keeper.
I can be the victor of a game keeper
And avoid praying for the grim reaper.
If college and home don’t work,
Then maybe I’ll do more then drift through life like a lurk.
And be more then my sororities quirk.
Shit, Y’all. I’m tired.
And already dreaming of being retired.
Whose got the time to try and be desired.
It’s not like I have hope to be inspired
or someone’s heart required.
All I am is tied up and wired.
Part of the dilemma of having insomniac periods is that a lack of sleep ruins a lot of things in your body. One of those in your sanity. It’s why no one wants to diagnosis me with the more fun labels. They say, “let’s clear the sleeping issues,” over and over again. For awhile, even I thought that maybe my breaks from sanity were really just from the fact I don’t sleep. Then, after a week of being close to a normal sleeping schedule (which I got miraculously after quitting my anxiety meds), I had an episode. It’s not something I’m normally comfortable speaking about. Joking about insanity, and blogging about depression is one thing, but taking the step to admit that I may be bi-polar or schizophrenic is another. It’s the step no one wants to take right now. I guess I have too though. I had a horrible hallucinatory episodes. Thirty minutes after I fell asleep, I woke up to scratches on the walls, that same horrible voice telling me everything I fear was in the room and the horrible sight of a person that won’t go away. My roommate heard me spring up and whimper and cam running into my room. Seeing as I’ve never shared with him that mental illness has taken the path towards insanity, I had to lie about was going on. I sat their silent, grim faced, looking out at the person. Two minutes later I managed to tell him I was fine, it was just a nightmare. He went back to his room. Too bad it was a lie. The image and noises didn’t go away for thirty minutes. Afterwards, I had a sudden panic attack that wouldn’t settle for three hours. It wasn’t something I could control. It was something that left me with a sleepless night. A night that I tried to fix by drinking. All it did was leave me in a rap battle with one of the Frat kids I knew, that was up for none partying reasons at 4 a.m. It’s the night after and I already feel the residual fear and panic surfacing in me. I know it will be another sleepless night. Hopefully, there will be no images or alcohol. I could even avoid a break from really bad white rapping skills. I’ll say this though. When it comes to exercise or panic attacks. Only rock and rap will get me through.
I know I am suppose to be better at posting and trust me it is still one of my goals. But this was just too hectic of a week for me to sit down and write something. Now that the week is over I’m all down for writing. I’ll start with a quick explanation of my week. Basically, I had an essay due Tuesday and a midterm on Thursday. I will not make excuses I was very much out of it this past week and this current week. So my essay happened to be written at 6 am the day it was due and i barely studied at all for my midterm. By the time Friday rolled around I was dependent on the news of my friend coming to town to fix my soul. This is the hectic part: my weekend. Friday was spent partying all night with my friend. Saturday I tried to catch up on work, but really just spent time eating Oreos and peanut butter with my friend. That night I had to pull a Second all nighter for sorority. Sleep finally happening at eleven am Sunday. After five hours I had to wake myself up to suffer so I could fall asleep again later that day and hopefully sleep through the night. The kicker of the week happened Sunday for me. I had been thinking about for awhile taking a semester off to take an Internship in North Carolina. I thought it would be good for me to return home and be in the environment I love. I don’t think it’s a secret I am currently lost and panicking way too much these days. Well, telling my grandma and my mom what I was considered turned into a huge headache. Although, also telling them I wanted to die my hair purple and that I messaged the father I’ve never met for names for a school genealogy assignment didn’t help the situation either. My grandma was most upset about the hair. My mother was upset about the Facebook message I sent. I guess the response of, “too little too late, sorry I am not here to be used and abused like this so…sorry but can’t help you take care of yourself and best wishes.” didn’t go down with a mom who already felted enraged by a fathers complete lack of caring for there sire. Trying to calm her down was more stressful then the actual message. I have many issues and weirdness, but having father issues over this man is not one of them. It may sound cold but I gave two shits about the man or ever pursuing a relationship. I just wanted an A on my assignment. I figured if he denied, I could show the message to my prof and be like “Welp. I tried.” But my mother, she freaked out. Laced into me about looking for answers and how he only signed my Canadian papers because his mother embarrassed him. I think there was also something about letting him stab my heart. I can assure you there was no such stabbing. This week really did end on weird note though. Not only am I exhausted and tired, but now I’m having to somehow formulate plans for all the weird thoughts and things around me. I really, really hate plans. If I could be anything, I suppose I would be some combination of way-word wanderer, drifter, lonely biker and isolated academic librarian. I think that role would suit me.
Just a thought,
-Sorry for the sailor mouth <3