You see me as some quiet smart person. The one who will get you through projects and make teachers happy. But sometimes, it’s like that’s all you see. I’m quiet. That is my label. To you, I’m the mute kid that barely talks. I warm up to people, but still, they always see me as practically silent. Maybe I’ve been shedding the label in the past few years, but I guess you'll always come back to it. And apparently if I'm silent, that means I'm have nothing to say. No opinion. Nothing. Well I have news. I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY. A lot to say, actually. Just because I’m not shooting my mouth off every time opportunity presents itself doesn’t mean my opinion is as wispy and nondescript as clouds. Maybe if you got to know me, you’d know that. The thoughts in my brain, my feelings-private. But boy, your opinion of me would change if you ever paid enough attention to hear it. I’m filled with rage. With anger. Sadness. Loneliness. Happiness. Jealousy. Thoughtfulness. Love. Bet you didn’t know that. I get angry. Really angry. You probably think quiet people, especially me, don’t get angry. Don’t get into fights. Well guess what? I do. I get mad. So mad, you wouldn’t believe it. Poison seeps into my thoughts and contaminates my brain. The things I think are thoughts nobody is supposed to hear. I have so much to say. Hate, anger, love, everything inside my brain waiting to burst out. Maybe one day it will. But even though some comes out in waves, little trickles, you’d never know. Nobody ever seems to pay enough attention.

Say nothing,

Although you know you are corrupted,

Say something,

Although you know you will be interuppted,

Say nothing,

But this silence kills you,

Say something,

You have so much to live up to.

I guess I never thought about it

I think about it all the

Time

Everyday is like the last

Getting worse at reliving the past

Visiting my vast cemetery of

Dreams

Waiting for relief

I'm surrounded by hate

Trying to love

Everybody's so fake and

Reality

Has mugged me of

Comfort

I guess I never thought about it

I think about it all the

Time

Psychoanalytical take this

Politically correct little pill

So you can feel better about

Being who you are

The pills will make things better

The pills will hold your hand

I guess I never thought about it

I think about it all the time

Life, death, tricks, truth, lies.

Stars. The sky. Grass. Rivers. Boats.

Windows of glass. How the days,

hours, minutes, seconds never seem to last.

Regrets, Believing lies, Hiding truth.

As if you care.

Never mind.

I guess I never thought about it

I think about it all the

Time

i don't

belong

leave me

be

would anyone

care if i

disappeared?

don't

touch

me

i can't let

you

near

could anyone

love

me?

could i ever

love

what's wrong with me?

why am i

different

i don't

feel

like others

feel

what's wrong with me?

i don't want to

be

why do i

be

what if i wasn't

be

why am i so

afraid?

Professionalism = the sad mix of polite regard and cold courtesy that keeps my primitive urges in check

As a youth I never talked back or argued with my parents. Ever. It sounds absurd, especially for a teenager, but I had my reasons which I'll set aside for a make-believe therapy session on another day.

To date, I still suck at expressing rage or anger. I often do, but not directly. I avoid confrontation like the plague because I have no idea how to handle it. Part of me feels like I'd crumple into a ball; another part of me feels like I'd knock someone out. Since neither outcome seems great I avoid it altogether.

Most of my day-to-day interactions happen at work, so it is here that my inner thoughts tumble and roll like socks in a dryer. It takes time for my emotions to catch up to me - a glib comment, a simple request, an innocent remark here or there will not stir me until my mind has had time to toss it about and determine how it feels.

This leaves me at a disadvantage in most social situations, because I can't quickly or efficiently state what bothers me. For example, I may be asked to assist someone with their work.

Outwardly, my initial response is: "Sure, I can help with that."

Inwardly, my thought process goes: "Wait, how come you're not handling this yourself? Everyone else does. And how come you asked me and not that guy? This isn't my job or even his job, it's your job and you should be taking care of it. You've got more seniority than either of us, WTF! I am NOT a hired nanny, learn to manage your own damn time! You're sitting back there doing nothing most of the day and I've already taken care of five orders in the past two hours, what are you even DOING with all your time?? God, you probably make more than me too, this is such a waste of my potential - why doesn't management call out or check any of this shit---"

-- and so on and so forth.

The problem here, really, is logic. Buried beneath the towel cycle of my thoughts lies the little dryer sheets that smooth everything out. My colleagues need better time management skills, sure. I need to learn to say no when I have enough on my plate, that's on me. Seniority grants little perks like delegation that I just have to live with, I get it.

Therefore each day I steel myself and try to remember:

Vulcan it out.

Hold those pesky emotions in check that don't get you anywhere but to the bar after work.

Analyze your response and the situation from a third-party perspective and identify what you can control, and what you cannot.

Eliminate factors that muddle your thinking and bog you down with unecessary grief or resistance, such as high expectations for others or yourself. Keep it basic.

Identify logical, non-emotional responses that address your concerns without expressing undue remorse or judgement - such as "I'm afraid I am working on this other project right now that needs done today, but perhaps someone else could assist you?"

I'm still working on my Vulcan meditations. I dream that one day my blood will run green enough I will succeed in conquering my emotions and addressing the small, illogical forces that drive them.

Rather than launching the McCoy-style rants that sour my beer instead.

Can’t escape

Crave, want, need

The sense of peace

Being alone

On my own

All the pressures

In this place

YOU call my head

I call MY HELL

The Unknown!

Sitting there

Asking yourself

Not Why

But what the fuck!?!

How!?

How did I

Become

So STUCK!!!

WAKE UP!

You scream, yell

You cry

Saying things aloud

You swore you’d never tell

Trapped in your mind

Stuck in this cell

Breaking up

Nothing but yourself

Slamming down

Those hands of yours

Full force

Staring into your reflection

Falling

More and more

Why am I not better yet?

FUCK MY LIFE!

I should be dead

Then time ends

And I’m not alone anymore...

Written by Michele Del Russi

everyone is holding cups filled with a mix

of a thousand types of alcohol

and my friends come up to me,

but i don’t know what to say

because all i’m thinking about is

how gorgeous she is and i can’t stop myself

from stealing forbidden glances at

her because god, her smile is something else

the way her wavy bobbed hair dances in the evening breeze is

something else

she calls me over and i think

i amost faint

at the sound of her voice

because despite being friends for a year,

today it hit me like those first highs

today i stop ignoring feelings for someone

who’s not a boy

even though the world doesn’t know yet,

today i know

I hold my tongue,

God only knows how much,

How many times,

I fucking hold it.

All the time,

I mean...

The absolute shit,

That dribbles from their lips.

I can only grin and bear it,

Barely able to bare it.

And I hate to be wrong.

Everyone knows that.

And I don't know if I

Just used bear or bare right.

And it fucking bothers me,

But I wont bother looking it up.

Can we take another moment,

To honor my moments of silence..

Honestly other people,

And their otherworldy opinions.

Who raised them,

And did them so wrong,

That they can't communicate,

Or bother giving a fuck.

I want to know,

So badly.

How most people got so far,

In life with that fucking attitude.

And that lack of...substance.

I'm so full of substance,

And unsaid words.

I'm nearly drowning in it.

Help.

Help me, I'm stuck.

Stuck in a place where no one knows anything except me.

Stuck in my mind.

You're the only one who can save me.

Only you.

Time.

Time is running out...

for you and me.

We don't have to stay here.

These thoughts take me to a place where no one knows anyone except me.

And I'm stuck.

Help.

Help me.

Forever.

You said forever is all we need,

but you're not here now.

I need you now.

Stuck in a place where no one knows anywhere except me.

And I need you,

not me.

These thoughts conquered me head.

I can't spell them out for anyone,

not even you.

I think we're all speaking different languages, here in this room. You think you know what I'm saying, but you answer the wrong question. We think what we want and say what we think everyone will understand. And sure, we can know what everyone is saying, but can we know what everyone is thinking. What you really wish to say, will never be known to us.