The addiction like a vice around my wrists,
Pulling my mind in a thousand different directions
The need for the 90's, 95's, 100's
Fleeting elation when the white paper is dropped on my desk;
The all-consuming thought of red scribbles carving words that spell my demise.
Telling me to write until my fingers fall off;
Then write some more.
Bloody drops of my will,
Marking the paper like tear stains.
What does that mean? How does she do that? I need to make up for that mark. My computer's dead. Do this for homework. Shut out the world and focus. Why is everything so blurry? My math mark went down a percent. It's over. The world is ending. I should just quit school. I have a million things to do. Finish this, start that, plan for this. I need to email my teacher. Maybe if I do extensions my grades will be better.
My
breath
is
too
fast
The perception of myself
Resting fully on the ability to recall facts told to me years ago
The thoughts of myself
Affected only by the quality of which I can string together words
My entire self
Determined by my academic worth.
The deadly allure of perfection
Like a mirror that shows your greatest desires
Then when you look closer
it reflects your deepest fears.
The daunting self-conciscounes of
all
eyes
on
you
' What did she get?" they titter, like birds watching their prey.
' How will she react?'
The emerald jealousy when you do better and the amber grins when you fall.
But maybe those voices,
are purely my own
Echoing in the vast expanse of my mind
A fire built on the fuel of my will
Eating it away until nothing is left
Until all I want to do is curl into a ball and disappear
Never touch another
pencil
Or answer another
question
Or talk to another
person
Until the thirst for perfect marks returns
Unquenchable
Unfailing
Unforgiving
What I love the most
Threatening to end
Me.
It's quite funny, actually.
An enabling habit
Allows the addiction to continue
The sweet solace of acing a test
Brings me back to the behavior
A bug to a flytrap
Lured by the promise of nectar.
Just to meet the same old ugly end
Over and over and over and overandoverandover...
Maybe I'm just being dramatic.
Because I do love it
Shrill, squeaking desks
The thrill of knowledge
The foggy mist of being adrift amind an ocean of your passion
Salty water threatening to drown you
Always there, held at bay by a dwindling rope
Losing yourself in it.
Reading an intriguing story
And watching the colorful threads come together to form a quilt
In which you pull over yourself when it gets cold.
But the quilt is itchy and scratchy and sometimes you want to rip it to shreds
Feeling powerful
Drunk on your comprehension of the world
Foolish, naive, silly
Dominant in your self-labeled wit and quick remarks
Trivial, incapable, inferior
Pressure: expectations layered on my shoulders like bricks in a house.
Pressure: P=Force/Area
But the force in this case is much larger than the area;
mathematically I will
fail
In reality
who knows
Thanks for reading guys! I've decided to upload some of my poems as well bc I just like the flow of writing them. I'll be updating this whenever I have the urge to write poetry because I feel like it's something you can't force yourself to do. Make sure to star and add to your reading list!
