I first read this poem in an online English class that I took last summer, and it has stuck with me.  For lack of any creativity of my own at the moment, I thought I would share it with you, whoever you are...

Autobiography in 5 Short Chapters
 a poem by Portia Nelson, published in her book
There's a Hole in My Sidewalk: The Romance of Self-Discovery

Chapter I

I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk
I fall in.
I am lost ... I am helpless.
It isn't my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.

Chapter II

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don't see it.
I fall in again.
I can't believe I am in the same place.
But, it isn't my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

Chapter III

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in ... it's a habit ... but,
my eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

Chapter IV

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

Chapter V

I walk down another street.

To Be

Good News!  I’ve decided not to kill myself.  Well, I guess its good news if your're really into the whole “living” thing.  Actually, living would be pretty awesome under the right circumstances, but mine suck.  I have no friends, I am shy and don’t know how to make friends, I am poor and unable to buy friends…ugh I just want some goddamn friends!  

My life has been pathetic thus far, so all it took was the perfect mixture of suckiness, pms, and a change in my medication, for me to start contemplating suicide.  Being the pathetic pansy that I am, I decided to google the least painful ways to do the deed.  And I found this… http://www.cracked.com/article_15658_the-ten-minute-suicide-guide.html

I highly recommend you read it.

So, besides this article convincing me that committing suicide would actually be a bigger pain than living, it made me laugh my ass off.  It’s amazing what a little laughter can do for your spirits.  Anyway, I realized that suicide wasn’t the right option for me.  I mean, I have the rest of eternity to be dead, so why rush into it?  My life right now isn’t fantastic, but I’ve decided its time for me to make some changes.  I’ve got to put myself out there more and take some risks.  If I’m gonna be alive, I should probably start acting like it. 

And now here I am blogging to the whole world.  Haha who am I kidding, no one is reading this. 

Disorders?

Today, it seems like there is a disorder for everything(especially for mental illnesses), and out of all those disorders, you are bound to have one of them:  ADD, ADHD, anxiety, depression, bipolar, OCD, PTSD, PMDD … you get the picture.  But I wonder if it is better now or back when there weren’t names for all these things.  Back in the day, people may have just been called crazy, or weird, but now it is completely different.  When someone has a disorder, you have to be more understanding towards them.  But those of us who haven’t been diagnosed, don’t get the luxury of having a reason, or excuse for acting a certain way.  Being labeled by a disorder is good in a way, because it gives people a clear reason why you are a certain way, and then they aren’t as freaked out by you.  It is also nice because it gives you justification of why you are the way you are, and then you aren’t so hard on yourself.  On the contrary, it could cause you to act a certain way, like a self-fulfilling prophecy (You are expected to act a certain way, which leads you to actually acting that way).  If you had no idea that you had a disorder, your mind wouldn’t be subconsciously thinking about it, and making you act in ways that fit that label.

Before all these disorders had names, people had to just go on with life and try to make the best of whatever they might have been dealing with.  Now I can’t help but think that people today are kind of pathetic (myself included).  Everyone wants some type of special treatment and they want things to be easier for them than everyone else because they have something wrong with them.  But everyone has something difficult to deal with.  Its annoying watching certain people get special treatment when everyone is special. 

I have a lot of mixed feelings about this subject.  I suffer from depression.  I think I might even be bipolar.  It seems like I’m always trying to figure out what’s “wrong” with me.  I get sad a lot, but so do a lot of people.  When people are so diverse yet similar, how can you even determine what is normal?  Is there even such a thing as normal?  If there is no such thing as “normal,” do disorders even exist? 

I don’t know.  Sometimes I confuse myself.  I’m not even quite sure if what I wrote makes sense.  I enjoy pondering, but I’m not the best a putting my thoughts and feelings into words.

I guess I just want to know:

If you had the choice to be diagnosed as having a disorder or not know that you had one, which would you prefer?

Or

If you do have a disorder, are you glad that you know, or would you rather be oblivious to it?

I am always trying to diagnose myself, but I don’t know if knowing would even make a difference.

Are You Lonesome Tonight?

I’m so lonely. 

If I died …

No one would notice

Or maybe they would. I don’t know.  I just feel so invisible all the time.  I don’t know how my life ended up like this.  I used to have friends, but somewhere along the line I lost them all and became the weird quiet girl.  I try to reach out to people but no one seems interested in getting to know me.  I wonder if there is something wrong with me or if I’m just destined to be alone and miserable. 

Anyone else ever feel like this?