Edit: 11/2/13: Sorted out the punctuation on this before I submitted it someplace so just put those edits into place here. No content edits.
Well. I hope this poem came out as intended. I wanted to make it dark and unpleasant.... I think I was too soft in the writing of it because it is more a misery poem than an anger poem and misery is so a(pathetic).
This poem is about me. My mutation. My disability. It's not physical. It's not an actual bacteria / parasite / mass / monster. It's a warping in my personality, in my mind and thoughts.
Strictly speaking I have mixed personality disorders (not the same as multiple personality disorders). Basically, I don't think the way that 'normal' people do.. and its really easy to forget. Especially when you are happy.
You ever say to someone "I can't stop worrying about it" or "I can't stop checking facebook to see if my ex has said something bad about me"... well imagine that you really CAN'T. You CAN'T stop worrying. It's an actual impossibility. Your brain doesn't know how to not think about things, or worry, or be overly analytical and anxious.... and right now you might be thinking 'that totally sounds like me'... that's because there isn't enough words to show the difference between how our brains work, not because my 'issues' are common.
Then, one day, someone behaves in a way that I can't comprehend. Someone will be mean to me unexpectedly. Someone will give up on me, or not be able to fight for me... and I know that (because of my issues) I would fight for them until it killed me because I love them... so if they don't, they must not love me. and despite knowing that I only believe that because my issues mean that *I* give too much not that they aren't giving enough... I still feel... broken, and unlovable, and disgusting and mutated...
and everytime it happens its like a kick in the throat and I suddenly remember that I am not normal. and I don't get to be loved and be happy, because I give an unhealth amount of love that no one will ever be able to match, because the amount of love I give is literally a mental illness. No one will ever love me as much as I love them, no one will ever fight for me as much as I fight for them. No one will ever care for me or go the extra mile for me. No one will ever suprise me. and if someone did I would know it was because they were sick and I would try to fix them and everytime they did something nice for me Id feel terrible.
So logic suggests, I am unlovable. and like I said in 'Black'.. who could ever love a beast.
or a mutant.
Random true fact: I have an extra vertebrae. I called it ironic because people say 'get some backbone'. I have an extra bone but don't feel like it.
New word: fetrid. Mix of fetid and putrid.
I am happy to answer questions about anything but please be respectful and understand that theres a difference between behaviours and thoughts and disorders.
The layout is purposeful. Don't like it? Sorry but this is my soul on display.