Tag Archives: Blogger

I taste the loss of control

Posted by Zeannaroux on

A bitter innocent and the hint of contempt make it impossible to sleep. Yet she wraps her arms around me and dares to dream while I lay shuffling through nightmares; I’m almost completely devoid of anything else. These nights break me, but she won’t let me shatter. I wonder if this is worth it.

I didn’t get evicted. Mainly because they never showed up like they said they would. For two days, I sat there thinking the worst. Holding this belief that I had not only failed my child but lost us a home, and they never even came to check things out. It makes me wonder if they were just having a bad day when they made that threat. It’s the only reason I can think of as to why they haven’t talked to me about it. I have had no emails or calls, and though I have walked to the office a few times, it hasn’t been mentioned as of it.

So what was with them making those threats? What was with them scaring me? I know that I should probably count my blessings.

I have my home

In a few weeks I will have my job

My daughter is safe and happy, as am I.

So what’s the problem?

Monday Madness

Posted by Zeannaroux on

Monday.

I hate Mondays, but not for reasons people normally hate them. They usually signify the beginning of the workweek and the end of a weekend of fun. I detested Mondays in the past because it meant that I had to wake up early.

It’s different now; as an adult, I hate Mondays for another reason. It’s when businesses open. It’s when people climb into their cars and go to the office that they dread so much and make calls they hate because they know they will be yelled at. It’s when people, debt collectors, well-meaning government workers, teachers, therapists, family, friends, many people from all walks of life call me. It is also the time when people stop by—some with good intentions and some without.

I hate Mondays because I wake up fearing that someone will call or come over delivering some terrible message that I suddenly have to pretend like I am sane enough to handle.

“Oh, I owe you 3,000 for a procedure my insurance said that they would cover? They changed their minds at the last minute because of some minute clause that went undiscovered until it was already done. Why yes, I can hold. Nope, all is well! Of course, I can pay. Now? …no”

My daily chants of

‘I can do it, it’s ok’

They don’t hear me, so I can’t get too mad that they ignore me. Of course, it’s not ok, but I am good at pretending.

This coming Monday, I have people coming to my home to decide if I deserve to live here or not. The criteria is unattainable. I could do it if I didn’t have a child or a dog. So I am locking them in my room and forbidding them from leaving till the people go back to the dark office they crawled from.

It’s stupid, how much I hate Monday, but over the years, I have noticed that nothing good ever happens on that day.

So here’s to another dreaded Monday. Here’s to me finding out if I will be homeless or not. Here’s to my sanity lest it fades away.

Do a little switcharoo

Posted by Zeannaroux on

There is a small part of me that wants to do a do-over. Take everything I have written so many years ago and revise them to a whole new, more mature blog. I still want to keep this one, but it isn’t all that professional. I wonder if others have done this in the past. Since I started, I have definitely seen some blogs come and go. I don’t want to go but I also do not want to remain stagnant with a blog that came about due to childhood angst.

Not that I mind it to much. I still plan of sticking around with this one. But I think I will keep this more focused on personal issues while moving poems to a whole new blog.

It’s just a thought.

Dreaming

Posted by Zeannaroux on

I thought it would be better if I died.

A hopeful wish really, but one I still believed in. I wanted to go away. For everything to end.

Only, I entered an agreement for a new feeling. One which brings me pain.

I figured it would be better if I was deceased.

My rotting body used to study various diseases. For science of course. While my mother grieved and my father went on living. I figured, that with time, memories of me would fade.

Only, I entered a realm of false hope. When memories fade only to become the chains that choke me with yesterday’s desires.

I just wanted to go away.

I just want to be

Posted by Zeannaroux on

Sinner with the broken wings

How is it that you still sing?

I sing for glory and holy light

I sing with passion to set all right

But when the devil comes to play

I sing with broken wings on display

For I am a sinner through and through

And it is through him that I get to you

Hi! I am queer. I have no safe space. There is no place that welcomes me. Yet, I am supposed to delude myself into thinking that there is. I know that I am not wanted but I have been told that it is better to think that there is.

I used to have someone I could talk to. A person who I felt like would always be there for me. Sure we would fight every once in awhile. I can not tell you the amount of times I told them I hated them. But I was raised in a home where family was supposed to mean everything. When your parents are gone you only have your cousins, your siblings, your aunts and uncle, to stand by your said. So for this person to betray me as they did hurts. It hurts so fucking bad because at one point there were my best friend.

See my coming out story was pretty bland. Which, I should be grateful that it ended up being that way seeing as others can not say the same. My mother was one of the first I told and she was super cool about it. Way to cool if we are being honest because she soon told me about all the girls friends she had while I was younger and would often ask for peoples numbers while we were out and about. Really, nothing screams “please kill me” moments like watching as your mother flirts with people of all genders anytime she walked out the house. So yes, my coming out was pretty bland.

I had some people who made my life hell but they really didn’t matter. My mother was ok with it. As was my siblings. But that soon changed. A few years back my sister discovered christ and what used to be ok was now one of the things that tore us apart. Now, she spends every moment she can sprouting bible verses and telling me I will go to hell. That I am an abusive mother because I surround my kid in such sinful teachings. She talks about race a lot as well. Blaming white people for all of our problems and how they need to eradicated. But I am the monster.

No one seems to care though. My mother, the women who made my coming out story so boring and uneventful is now constantly telling me that I need to forgive her. Because when she is gone my sister is all I will have left. But what my mother doesn’t understand is that I am used to being alone. I don’t need such toxic people in my life to make myself feel something anymore. So why should I forgive her?

If I am going to hell I rather it be because the love I chose to live with over the hate I would have should I hide.

Posted by Zeannaroux on

I was told not to share my problems

I complain to much

Because what I have inside of me

Is enough to garner me empathy

But only for a time or two

I need to stay silent

And far away

Because up close and personal

It isn’t enough

To keep contempt and revenge

From sneaking in

I was told to keep my mouth shut

By a friend of a friend of a friend

If only to remain unseen

So they can be seen as clean

I called myself an assassin

Posted by Zeannaroux on

I wanted you to fight for me…but I can see that I will never be enough. Between the blood and the lust there is a gun just out of reach. I thought that you would need me yet here you are. Lying at my feet with wounds I don’t think will ever heal. I am almost certain that this isn’t even real but I see it. I feel and still breath and can smell the fact that I am not…I am not enough. I was never meant to be. I figured you would fight for me. Figured you would try just a little more. But between the blood and the lust I think I can see. I think I can truly see just how much of it wasn’t meant to be.

A/N a little dirty ditty for the ladies. Honestly this makes no sense. I may edit it soon.

Another Update cause I can

Posted by Zeannaroux on

Welcome to the musing of an extremely petty poet.

I have had a lot of new followers and am actually starting to get a lot of repeats as well. Still not a lot of comments but I am ok with that. Just wanted to let everyone know, if you all haven’t noticed already, I am a terrible speller. And *spoiler alert* my grammar is even worse. So feel free to judge to your hearts content lol. I have had some people tell me that it is ok but it is something I struggle with and want to work on. I do not do it before I post my work but when I go back I like to edit a few things here and there. Change up a line or two to help it flow better. But if you see some mistake that doesn’t look intentional just comment and let me know. I will not get upset…ok I will get upset if said person only commenter just to tell me what I am doing wrong.

I am a single mom who struggles with BPD. I made this blog first to hone my writing skills but later on I wanted to show what it was like to live with a mental disorder. My poems and little story tell about my life and that of my daughter. Sometimes I can be angry, happy, sad, depression, excited and even, you guessed it, petty. I enjoy each and every person who takes the time to like and read my work. There is not a lot of information out there that paints people with BPD in a neutral light. Most information seeks to vilify us. Well I am here to tell ya that we are just as human as you are. We make mistakes and successes. My poems go a long way into proving that. Because some of my pieces are downright holy while others sound like the musing of a very edgy teen going through puberty. You get no in between with me really 🤣.

So I thank you and say welcome to all the new faces. I am sorry for the mess and look forward to learning from you all.

Believing in me

Posted by Zeannaroux on

I think I am done, but I am not sure how to be. I wasted so much time trying that giving up almost seems like a relief. Still, something is holding me back. I think it has something to do with my memories. Nothing in my past, but current events that haunt me. Preventing me from taking that final step.

I think I am done, but I am not sure how to believe. There is a small part of me that feels something close to relief. As though a big weight has been removed from my shoulders. I can breathe so easily and yet…those final steps are still out of reach.