Atlas

Thu, 12/07/2017 - 23:17 -- Dunklyn

Atlas.The God who was forced to allow the weight of the world to rest upon his shoulders.Solely because he saw things differently from those who were in a state of greater power.  The GOD WHO WAS FORCED  The GOD who was FORCED to be chained down by the rest of the gods, as they looked down upon him in scorn for his wrongdoings.  Let me tell you, these lines don't go together; gods are to be their own and act as they please without needing to be judged by the rest.  That's the way it should be, right? Because we're all "good" at something, aren't we?  We all have our problems are we are to deal with them ourselves and it's not other people's jobs to judge us for them. The things we can't control. The things that stand in our way; our obstacles.  People judge you for the way your spirit is "pure" or "dirty". Or the way you act in public. The way they see you is the way your permanently portrayed in their eyes and their brain; you CAN'T. CHANGE. THEM. Trust me. I've tried. I've done my best to try to show people who I really am. Not just the husk on the outside. "Jonathan." And I've failed. A lot.  You're taught that you're unique from the start, and that we all have our talents, "you're a god of art!" "you're a god of singing!" "you're a god of music!" "You're a god at... being nice?"  What if you don't want to be a god of what you're considered to be "good" at? Why can't we be defined as something OTHER than our talents or ability? Something that won't offend those of whom seem "useless" or lack ability. or.. something that we're bad at. our faults. Our thoughts are a tricky thing. They're the things that keep us chained to who we are. Those unrealistic words that make us doubt ourselves. The self-inflicted wounds that scar so badly, we hide them inside ourselves, never to share them or show them to those around us.  People say to me "Hey skinny arms!" or hey "Stringbean!" "Long-Fingers" Skinny, fragile, ungraceful, outcast, quiet, AWKWARD, PAIN, GUILT, DOUBT, DEPRESSION, THE WANT FOR CHANGE THAT I CANT REACH BECAUSE MY REPUTATION AS MY PHYSICAL BEING IS PERMANENTLY ENGRAVED IN THOSE WHO THINK THEY KNEW ME.  the people who thought they knew who I was.  or who I am.  The gods of what they do, look down at me like they're superior. those who found their talents. the people who are "good" at something. that's who they are. as I'm forced to look up their lives and treat them like none of the names or words they say to me matter.  "It's because he's nice". "It's because he's my friend." It's because I have a reputation I'm shackled to like icy chains, grasping for any weakness they can hook on to. You don't know me. You don't know my thoughts. You don't know my reason.  You don't know him or her. You don't know his or her thoughts. You don't know their reason. So don't try to act like you do.  It hurts.  Everything about me was built from the ground up, and some of the blueprints may have been lost on the way there.  The reason I'm awkward? I was traumatized at home in middle school and didn't talk to people for a solid two years. The reason I don't move gracefully and smoothly like the rest? I sat in my room alone for those two years. I spoke to someone else every day, the same person about things unrelated to the situation we shared.   We didn't know what we were missing out on.  And now the opportunity to show him is gone because he's succumbed to it and he's lost in a maze of doubt of what he could be.  If anyone here was a solid close friend of mine in 7th or 8th grade and spoke to me on a daily basis, please speak now.  Exactly. And it stayed like that for two years. I lost out on TWO YEARS of solid relationships, and opportunities. Christmas, Easter, this will be the first year I have friends to buy Christmas presents for. in these short lives we lead, every day should be different. every day should be a journey to a goal of what we wish to become. but every day was the same. But I told myself I was lesser and because of it, lead myself down a path to be considered "inferior".  An outcast.  "What's he gonna do?" "What can he do?" Is the question that is always asked, but never in the right context. It's always, "What isn't he?" You never see yourself asking someone considered "lesser" than you, what they are good at. You see them for their faults. And they see you for your successes. Yet you treat them like trash. instead of being the role model you need to play. The Demi-gods.  Why inflict pain upon others like the way you know it, even if you so choose that they deserve it?  Who are you to chose who deserves what? And Who am I, to look to you, and admire you for it? It's awful.And that's the world that's resting on our shoulders. The world that we're responsible for, and the norms that must be conformed to.  Every day is a constant struggle against doubt and my thoughts. My idea of who I am, and who I want to be.  The everyday struggle of pain and sorrow like there's no feeling that I don't struggle with. It's just a big game of Hide and Seek. The way I'm constantly looking for answers and solutions But to work so hard for them seems impossible I don't understand how people do it and it's FRUSTRATING!  It's like the answers hide from me. and I'm struggling to find them.  it's what it's like to be me. the mess of emotion and lust for change. i want to be good at something. but not all of us are. and it hurts. and it hurts bad.  people say that we have more time to discover who we are as individuals.  however, it seems we've already been defined at this point by those who matter to us and what we are to be or become.  The world is getting too heavy for my shoulders to bear. 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My community

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741