a poem that will never be sent to my professors
a poem that will never be sent to my professors free from prose stories

kelseywoods uncomfortable poet
Autoplay OFF   •   a year ago
a clumsy, long ramble

a poem that will never be sent to my professors

I feel the need to explain myself

clumsily, repetitive, and awkward

because it's not an excuse, but it's a reasoning

which could be taken as an excuse

every morning the alarm wakes me up

from the other side of the room

where I trip over the pillows, blankets that have been thrown

in a sleep-induced haze

with no recollection of how they got there

or how I even fell asleep

I stumble back to my bed

eyes hurting

back aching

why even bother getting up?

my head has been filled to the brink of exhaustion

with thoughts of not-good-enough-ness

why can't I do anything right?

missing assignments and a struggle to even leave the

quiet and cool of my room

where my thoughts unravel

as the ceiling fan clinks and shivers

why get up

when all I've done lately

is feel myself fall

hitting my head on the edge of the pavement

where the sidewalk ends?

failures and failings and absolution

I am

a mess

an indisputable fact of a non-formality

sadness pervades and spreads through the air

like an impenetrable fog

I spent an hour-long therapy session

discussing the death of my grandmother when I was 13

and it feels like her ghost

has been following me

rubbing my back and singing me to a deep, everlasting sleep

which a part of me wishes I would never wake up from

my backpack is stuffed with papers

without homes

folders empty, begging to be filled

but left in their loneliness

empty - they understand me

urges to jump from the rooftops

jerking the wheel of a car

getting in the car

and not remembering the drive until I'm at the destination

losing a grip

but was it ever really there?

when dreams feel more like reality

than what is actually being lived

everything feels like

"why should I bother?"

I don't trust myself anymore

trying so desperately to surround myself

with people

even if they don't care

my head is screaming

mind shouting



begging for a reminder

some kind of confirmation

that I am tangible

oh so real


warring with my own thoughts

I know the things that I should be doing

what would be helping me

but the other part

is self-sabotaging



lack of motivation

poor grades

depression from poor grades



about what it would be like

to talk to someone

so openly and honestly

about the things that are being thought

without them looking at me

with that look of pity


oh that poor thing

I don't want that

in some ways

but I also do


touch me, reaching out

put a hand to my hand

and grasp it tight

so I don't fall away and fade


evaporation into the wind

wondering that it would be like

to slide all of this

this rambling

uncomfortable prose

under my professors' respective doors

would it help?

is there a way to be cured?

the medications I take every day have been exhausting

sincerely, me

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