Monthly Archives: April 2017

Overtime 

Posted by Zeannaroux on

The world of D&D has always fascinated me. Weaving storyline on the spot thay come a live as you act them out with friends and not so much friends. 

This is what I have longed to be apart of. Yet I have always found myself afraid to get into it. Like, I would google the crap out of it, but actually talking to others about it didn’t happen. 

It was my own dirty little secret. One that I knew my family and many of my friends would judge me for. 

I had zero faith in the game. Recently though I found myself talking to a friend who played often. A friend I used to hate because I felt they were uppity. A friend I judged way to harshly for just existing. 

Talking to them I learned a story I always wanted to tell but never had the courage to. I told him the gifts I didn’t dare to reach for and the dreams I wouldn’t allow myself to see. We had fun and laughed about nothing in particular. I made a friend out of someone I secretly hated. 

D&D brings people together and allows them to enjoy a world not of our own. Allows them to be whom they want. The mightiest dwarf, the kindest elf, The bravest Teifling. It does things to people. I used to not let myself enjoy these things but now I think I just might. 

Not My Problem

Posted by Zeannaroux on

Do not judge me

I gave up 

I become what they wanted

A body covered in cuts.

We are told that suicide is wrong. That is it the failures way out. I once read a story where of someone attempted suicide they where shipped to an island with other people who failed. There there were no rules and they could either try again or live how they pleased. 

Their records were deleted and their families told they died. I am not sure how the goverment in this book got away with not having to show the body, but they did. 

So on this small island some people did decide to take their lives while other vowed to keep going. 

It was a strange story. As you may assume all hell broke lose until rules were in place. Rape, murder, theft, just your basic chaos happened till they devised their own goverment of sorts. 

Not going to lie, I didn’t get that far into this series. Once I was assured people would try to find some meaning to life I stopped. 

Interesting that this is the part I stopped at. I guess I could have read on once the more darker stuff had passed….but I didn’t.  

I have read two variations to this story. One was a manga and they other a adult novel. Both times I stopped reading once life reached some sort of order. 

I don’t delude myself into thinking it would be perfect. Instead I choose to never give it a chance. I didn’t try to see if it would get better because what was right in front of me only seemed to be getting worse. 

In these books order was found but I just knew that it would change quickly. I knew that someone would grow bored of that life and try to start problems again. What else can happen when you put a bunch of emotional people in the same room. Even if everyone is getting along there will always be that one person who craves chaos. Who has this hidden bloodlust that they can’t get rid off. 
So I stop.

I stop reading and instead give up on the series. I see the dark past and have an understanding of the future. I expect change but it is not the change I believe can help me. 

People might think I am strange for that. They might tell me that I need to stick around and let the story finish. That giving up before I can truly reach the ending it not giving the author credit. But I, as the reader, hold all the power. 

In a story filled with violence, I can choose when it will end. 
So when people look to suicide I do not see what they see. They find a failure, a victem, I see a person who took their life into their own hands. Yes they have left so much behind but they are finally free…at least…that is what they think. 
Now despite this understanding I do not believe that peoppe should harm themselves. I do believe that people should preserve. Giving up on a silly book is easy, but giving in to life is a whole other story. 

We readers hold the power. Our story may be filled with pain. We may not hold all the answers on how it could change. We may not be alone in our suffering. We could be sitting on an island surrounded by people who hate just like us. Emotional husk, beings left to rot. We may have tried to end our lives in the past and have it being held against us but we still hold the power. 

Change may not happen fast enough. Somewhere along the lines there will be thay one person trying to fuck it all up. But we, dear reader, will try our hardest to go on. Not just for ourselves but for those around us who also need a reason to go on. 

Do not ever think you are alone. Do not ever think that you are not worth it. We may not have the lives of writers but as readers we are still so very strong. So very very important. Because without us there is no them. Without us they world would be an even more crueler place.
I understand death. 

I understand wanting to shut the book and call it a day. 

I understand giving up.

I understand it all. 

Without those who suffer this world would not understand.
But fuck me !it isn’t fair! It isn’t fair that people must feel pain so the rest of the world can learn something called empathy and understanding. 
I once read a story where people were forced to live on an island after they tried to kill themselves. Their loved ones were told theu succeeded. Some were probably forgotten whole other remembered often. On this island people died, people were raped, people suffered. Forced to live a life they didn’t want just so they could teach others a lesson. 

It isn’t fair at all. 

I stopped reading that book once things started going good. I didn’t want to see people come along and try to break what was once broken. I didn’t want to see as they healed from their wounds and try again. I didn’t want to see them be happy, for others to try stop them. 

Instead I focused in them surviving. 

Cause in the end…no matter what they decided..they did all they could to make their life theres. 
How unfair is that? 

A random status update

Posted by Zeannaroux on

I have never been good at dealing with the death of a loved one. I have often found myself to be the only person openly crying at funerals. As everyone is floating around and celebrating, I was always the one calming talking to the body as though they could still hear me. The one everyone felt that needed to baby due to my delicate nature. 

It is funny though cause I actually celebrate death. I do not pretend to be happy with a passing. Instead I let myself feel sad. I do not hade behind perfect smile and tell everyone thanks for coming. No I kneel and allow the person I have lost know I love and will always remember them. I celebrate death once I have grieved.

Not to say smiles or laughter at a funeral should not happen cause they should. I just don’t do it. 

I am not very religious, but despite how some of my poems may seem, I love religion of all kinds. Including Christianity.  I may not follow all the teachings but I do not find it horrible. 

So I can understand how something that is something  we need to sing about. 

I am just quieter…..

Still….

I wish people would stop seeing my tears as a weakness. I wish they would talk to me. Let me tell them that sure I am crying, but I will be on in time. 

Why do people hide death from me? Treat like a little flower who needs to be protected? Has anyone read my poems and stories??? Seriously, I will be ok. Just give me time. Let me vent, let me grieve in my own way. 

Murder, She wrote

Posted by Zeannaroux on

I often find myself reading psychological books where people are forced to face some past demon. Maybe they were abused growing up or they witnessed something they shouldn’t have. Maybe they had a moment of weakness and it cost someone their life. I love this type of stories because they can bring me comfort or even force me to see things. When I see them I also get to read about how people overcame these obstacles and found something close to happiness.

Funny thing is that sometimes the main character may have to go seek professional help. They are diagnosed and if you, like me, love looking up mental illness, you can sometimes can an “Ah yep understandable” moment.

I recently had one where a man was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder.  In the story I read he was hurt as a child by his father and also watched as his father killed another little boy. His life was full of abuse even as he reached adulthood yet his quirks seemed so familiar to me. They were much like my own that before I even got to the chapter where he was diagnosed I started to question things.

He has this urge to paint, to tell his story. To finally undo this lie he was forced to keep. If he didn’t paint he would basically escape into himself and a ‘monster’ would take over. When that happened people were hurt bad.

The story was pretty much talking about his journey with overcoming it all and being able to love someone.  This was a psychological romance (m/m cause a duh) that left me crying.

It touched on things I have never even told my therapist for fear they would find me an unfit parent. How there are times when I feel like someone is watching me. They are so very angry. I know exactly who they are but I can’t tell anyone. Sometimes when I can’t sleep at night I can hear them talking (it is usually only one…or at least it has been since my daughter was born)

I know who she is and I know that with time I won’t feel her presence anymore.

I don’t know why it took a fictional book to help me realize that what I am going through is normal. I am pretty sure most would question my already fading sanity levels if I had told them.

But it is true. This book helped me a lot. I will probably never be as brave as this fictional character.  I will probably never have the type of love that they received either. Nor will I get the kind of support and dedication that I need to make it through this life as they did. I am not alone though.

Reading has always been something that saved me. I could focus on someone elses trouble for a while. My life isn’t perfect at all but it is my life. It may not make sense to believe this book helped me despite me writing as though I am helpless towards my future. I mean I do not think I have a future but this book did help me. I am not alone in what I feel.

My life isn’t some written fiction someone made up. I may not have the perfect ending to it but it is mine. In time my thoughts could change. But just knowing that I am not alone brings me a world of comfort.
There she follows

To and fro

A little girl I forget to know

Shackled to a hurtful past

She haunt my conscience so the pain will last

I regret the cause that brought her near

Regret the dreams I have grown to fear

The little girl who cases

To and fro

The little girl who won’t leave me alone

So I write her story

I write her song

I write all the way I have done her wrong

So that she may go to sleep another day

Until she is once again ready to play

*****************************************

The book that made me feel this way can be found here (via author website. She has a lot of other books that deal with some tough issues)

Or directly on amazon here

She is an amazing writer so check her out if you like m/m novels.

Listen

Posted by Zeannaroux on

   Today I had a conversation with someone about parenting.  Now normally these end on a pretty positive note despite some arguments in the middle. Yet this time I was left with a horrible taste in my mouth. I felt so very dirty after talking to them.

     They told me how once they became a parent they would not allow their children to have any toys or watch TV. They would monitor the  friends they made and their lives will be filled with nothing but learning. Even from the womb they would be teaching them a new language.

      Now all that isn’t all that bad. All parents do a variation of this. What made me feel ill is how they would go about doing this. How the child would not be allowed to talk to others outside of the family. How they had no choice in this and werent not allowed to play. First they said no tv but that they could play old school games. When I mentioned that games where TV time pretty much, they changed it to that the child can watch TV but not much. They would only get movies and the child would not allowed to read anything that wasn’t educational.

If the child did not like this then the childs only option was to move out. They had to obey all rules or would be forced to go to the nearest mental ward for a bit…no matter the age. So if their 4-year-old was giving them problems they would call the comes and have them admitted.

I listened to this for as long as I could handle before I couldn’t take anymore. They said that they lived a life such as this and grew up fine but when talking about their parents you could tell they hated them. They treated the parents like shit and gleefully explained how they should no longer be allowed do certain things. Like be on social media or even talk to them. They said they loved their parents a lot.

They said that they turned out fine but they are homeless and they have a sibling who is in jail…yet both turned out fine from their own choices. Despite having a life they said guarantees them success in life.

I urged them to read a parenting book but they explained that they would make the perfect parent. I highly doubt that…

There is nothing wrong with being a someone strict parent but being both strict and a helicopter parent won’t help a thing.

This life of this hypothetical child sounded horrible. I felt like crying because I couldn’t image this sort of suffering. To not be able to have friends and enjoy life. They wouldn’t even be allowed outside cause they had studies to do. Sure they may have a good adult life but what about their childhood. Being smart is something we all strive for but that won’t bring us happiness. Sure having a crap ton of money, doing well in school, having various skills is nice, but what about life?
What is the point of living when you are alone?

This person seemed almost proud of how things are and I hate them for it. I know I am judging their life. I have my own issues. My life wasn’t perfect at all. I had the strict parent and I had the one who wasn’t there. I had the parent who tried to be my best friend and I had the parent who wanted me to worship the air they breathe. The ones who say they are always right no matter what and the ones who admitted perpetual defeat.
I was raised with it all and I did not turn out fine. I was spanked as a child and hate the ones who did it. I plotted their deaths for quite some time. Wasn’t till I was an adult that I realized that they came out of the experience able to sleep at night, and I was the only one who hated myself for it.

As a parent I see myself as more Permissive/ authoritative style. I give in a lot of the time. I want my daughter to have her own mind and at times forget that I have one. I have a hard time staying structured. I am pretty spontaneous as a parent which can be good and bad. I love talking to my daughter about how she is feeling. Is she gets into trouble we talk it through. Sometimes I just randomly ask her how she feels. It makes me happy cause there are times she will do the same for me. Praise is often given for no real reason in my home. I can be distant when I go through a bout of depression and I really hate playing pretend. But I make up for it by singing with her and reading her books whenever I can. We play dress up and paint our nails.

I do not expect much from her. I just got to the point where she has to pick up her own toys but I do not push a lot of issues. As long as she does her best I am happy.

This can make it seem as though I see her as a friend and I guess there are times I do. My daughter is the only person I talk to. I can go months without speaking to anyone who isn’t paid to be around me (Therapists, Doctors,etc). I sometimes forget what it feels like to talk to an actual adult. Now I go about a week without speaking to friends but it still takes a toll on my parenting. I am a single mom and it is hard for me to get to know people. I came from a pretty chaotic background. She is all I have really. It takes looking through articles such as this for me to realize how what I am doing affects her development.

I still have structure. She get rewarded or disciplined for bad behaviour. I no longer allow her to do what she wants but I am not yet where I want to be as a parent.

Still when this person told me about their plans it sickened me. It sounded like a prison.  I know I am probably judging them harshly but I couldn’t take it. Once they left a weight was lifted from me. Their  very presence was causing me to go insane.

This may not make any sense to many. It may even seem a bit silly to get upset over something like this. Something so small as talking about a child who isn’t here. Looking back at it all I probably over reacted but I won’t say a thing to them. I no longer trust them and want nothing to do with them. In my eyes they are monsters. How could they do this? How could they treat a child so? I have a feeling that is silly but my hurt and anger won’t go away.

I hate this…

L

Killer Instinct: Story Of A Cliche Teen

Posted by Zeannaroux on

Jasper dreams rasping behind closed doors

Pretty boys fall in love with unexpected girls

Trouble happens and all soon ignored

Lies get told and told and told some more

Hidden behind a well tamed fist

Tears fall down though more lies about not being pissed

Days flow by and by and by

Truths are told beneath a starry sky

Romance happens to be forgotten again

Lies prevail because that is the truth that sells

Corruption of a good friend is expected now

Someome dies and we crawl towards an end

Some kisses shared a please don’t tell

But of course to be discovered

‘THAT PERSON IS YOUR LOVER’

Kept away to be safe only released because of plot

Devices deceived by a sellout plot

More drama and drama and drama

But then end draws near

Hopeless life is resuced despite our cries

Please just let the stupid bitch die!

What was once ignored, a romance, is now happening before our eyes

Suddenly and suddenly and suddenly see

The heroine we hate (or love) starts to fade

The Hero we crave (or whom disgust) doomed to save

Writes the end but to be continued on another day

 

 

What a stupid teen cliche.

K

Just Saying: The Story Of A School Shooter. 

Posted by Zeannaroux on

CW
This is not a poem but instead the ramblings of someone who has had enough. I remember once in high school, I was sitting at my desk when a girl turned to me. She had the most disgusted yet curious look upon her face. I had never really spoken to her before outside of a few hellos and “Here pass this up”, but today she decided to hold a conversation. 

Apparently I reminded her of the type of person that was capable of killing people. It was due to the people I hung out with and the fact that I always looked sad. She then told me that if I had plans to shoot up the school that she rather I not kill her and try to clean up after myself. Basically to shoot people but remember to kill myself afterwards.  She then turned to her friend who in turn stated asked me why I waited, that I should just skip the dramatics and kill myself when I got home. That way they didn’t have to deal with me anymore. 

It was always funny how one was telling to hurt people and then myself yet the other was just like ‘Don’t hurt people we prefer you just off yourself’.

It hurt, of course, it hurt bad. I had never spoken to these girls before and after that moment they proceeded to make my life hell for a few months. 

I had a certain ‘look’ to them and yet they still bullied me. 

I did not harm anyone in that school. Until that moment, I had zero plans to. After awhile I begin to hate people and truly wish I had the balls to destory everyone. 

I love how everyone says that it gets better once school is over. That those four years won’t matter when you are an adult. You will look back on that life and be proud of what you have overcome. The pain you endured that made you stronger. 

That is a fucking lie and we all know it. To some high school was the golden years. To others it was a constant reminder of just how much of a failure they are. Some people raise up and become better while some are still treated like shit. I am one of those that is still treated like shit. One of the kids who had the ‘look’ and still amounted to nothing as they aged. 

Friends are better made online. People are never to be trusted. I may not have destroyed my school or killed myself as they suggested that day. But each day I live is only a punishment for myself. They moved on to better things. A good college and career. Some are even marrued with beautiful children in a wonderful home they own. Some died but are remembered as these amazing people. I am sure that at least one person struggles but they don’t show it. No, they show how good they have it. 

I am the type to feed off of their painand suffering. When their facade melts away I am the one person there to view it. There pain brings me pleasure. Yet I still suffer alone. Every day I continue to live a life I want to end. I always made up some sort of excuse to stay alive.

Currently I only have one and even that is starting to get old. My few pleasures in life are just sitting and watching others crash and burn. 

To be honest…I wonder what would have happened had I taken her suggestion. Had I blown that school to shit with everyone in it. Would it have made life easier? If I wasn’t caught I bet it would have. If I had instead decided to kill myself as well. Taken everyone out with me. Or what if I had just sat there in my home alone and finally slit my wrist. Maybe took a pill  jumped off a bridge. I thought about going some place exotic and getting lost or going on a boat and jumping off in deep water. Watch as people frantically tired to get me out. Slitting my wrist sounds good but lacks the same flair. Unless I was able to watch through the haze as my father stood over me in shock. I would love to see him show the world just how much he hates me one day. 

My whole life is a mistake and  I am forced to live it. I want to die but can’t. Just stuck in this eternal high school mentality that I will never amount to anything and nothing in life is proving different. 

There are times where I wish I could have been a school shooter. Maybe everything would have turned out ok. 

In the end I say hello

Posted by Zeannaroux on

A dull blade to past the time. 

Don’t worry sinner, I won’t take something that isn’t mine. I know my place at the holy gate. I know that death is a welcomed fate. Yet I can’t imagine how you must feel. Me looking down on you as you choose to do what you will. And here I got shit for giving you free will. 

Yet still I lend a helping hand. Sure it is not always welcomed but in the end, does it matter?

You will come into my light eventually. So what if you suffer a bit. So what if your life is full of pain. I mean, come on, to see me is a win-win. 

A dull blade to past the time.

Crusted blood on tile floors that used to shine. I know you feel bad and you want to end but don’t you know giving up is a sin. 

It sort of sucks if you think about it though. I give you a life yet make it hard to bear. Give you choices upon choices but never will tell you the right  one to make.  So you shuffle through life thinking you are mistake. The one clause given to make it all go away is the very one you can’t even take. Instead I give you sin to test your love. I give you people around you who have the free will to judge. 

I stamp title on your body so people can see. Sure I love you and in the end you’ll have me. But till then stay where you are. It will be ok, I mean maybe…maybe not. In time it will be ok.

A dull blade to pass the time. 

So fondle your blade slowly with tears sliding down your face. I will not take it from you because it is not my place. Instead I will stand here at the holy gate and wait. Wait till the life I made you takes control and ends you or someone else steps up to the plate. 

I am the only one who cares in the end anyways. 

A Petty Poet Poem Production.

How to ignore those around you

Posted by Zeannaroux on

CW: abuse, rape, children hurting. 

(Please be advised and head my warning. )

Father helped to poison me

As we build forts with bloody sheets.

Pile of pillows staind with tears

Turn on the radio

(It helps me pretend this isn’t real)

Loudly sing for all to hear

They smile at the sight we make

Daughter

Father

Picture so fake.

Daddy helped me to poison me

As I lay in bed looking at trees

Leaves sound out across the wall

Music playing down the hall

(I listen because it help me to sleep)

‘Take as long as you need’, they sing

Dancing not caring what midnight brings

Daughter

Father

A kiss goodnight

They ignore the screaming 

Music brings a new meaning

Louder, louder, louder

Teaches them to ignore

All the little girls cries

Behind the closed door.

Spaceships

Posted by Zeannaroux on

Hello, I have BPD and it does define me. I refuse to lie and say it doesn’t.  I have anxiety and I have depression. I have mood swings out the ass, and there are moments when burning down a building full of people I hate sounds like a really good idea.

I can’t stand loud noises unless I make them. I jump to conclusion quickly but I also like to take time to think about what is going on. I feel to much at a time. Though there are times I feel nothing at all. My anger isn’t like yours. Something so small can make me feel like John Wick after someone killed my dog. I will hunt you down and I destroy every thing you love dearly. I will not only destroy that but I will make sure everyone knows what kind of monster you all. Nothing will be held back.

My happiness isn’t like yours. The smallest thing can make me smile for hours on end. You can tell me someone called you a bitch and I will still smile like it is the best thing ever.

My sadness isn’t like yours. When I am sad I  am dead inside. I feel nothing but that pain and it will spiral. Know how people joke about how girls will bring up stuff that happened years ago in an argument? Well imagine that happening all the time. When I get sad every bad thing comes to mind. Stuff I did as a kid is suddenly brought up in my head.  I will beat myself up over it and hate myself anew. I will contemplate suicide in a dark room. I will pretend that I am ok but I am not. I will smile amd make jokes, but instead be making up the seating arrangements for my funeral. Who will say what and when. Who will lie and say they love me and who won’t even show up. Don’t worry I have always known how my funeral will look, only the music changes with each reimage.
My emotions are not like others. They are to high. Ever got a song stuck in your head? How the tempo seems to go faster and faster. Louder and louder till you feel a snap! That is my life. My every day unless I go numb.
That is my Borderline Personality Disorder.
It hurts to sleep sometimes.

I can’t build relationships cause I either trust to much or to little. One minute I will love a person and the next they are satans midwife. Giving birth to a new evil who will take over this world instead of killing it when they had the chance.

I have BPD and it defines me. It is who I am but I try to not let it control me. Do not forget is there though. Do not try to wish it away. It won’t magically go away so learn about it and understand who I am. Don’t be afraid to ask questions. This is me…