Nostalgic

Oh, how I long

For days of long ago

How I wish

We could go back

I wish we lived

In the days

Of yesteryear

How great that would be

Poem to Me

Please forgive me
I've been so broken
Please forgive me
For the words I've spoken

I don't know how
To prevent your cry
I don't know how
To not live a lie

S.I. Confessions Part 4

How?
How do I go from high up to falling down?

Why?
Why can't I speak when people are around?

When?
When will I be able to see more than me?

Who?
Who do I even want to be?

Where?
Where will I find my safe place?

What?
What can I do to enjoy taking up space?

Suicidal Ideation

I've been gone for three months. What have I to say? Not much.

I started sharing my feelings on here because I hoped that anyone who needed to read my blog would find it. But I never had a plan for what to share and when I did make one, I didn't stick to it. And I didn't do much to direct people here.

Now, I'm been sharing quotes, poems, and excerpts on Instagram. I've started reviewing shows on Tweezine. I've got quite a Pinterest following. I comment on YouTube videos and sometimes have conversations.

But this is where I get to be the most real. My thoughts don't get interrupted by others'. I can go into more detail without worrying about losing anyone.

I'll keep blogging. At the moment I'm not sure if I'll stick to a schedule but I know poems, chapters, memories, and definitions will continue to be posted.

---

Today's phrase: Suicidal Ideation

Proper definition
Medical News Today -  Suicidal thoughts, also known as suicidal ideation are thoughts about how to kill oneself, which can range from a detailed plan to a fleeting consideration and does not include the final act of killing oneself

Wikipedia - concerns thoughts about or an unusual preoccupation with suicide/death

Valleybehavioral.com - Suicidal ideation is broken down into two forms: active and passive. Active suicidal ideation involves an existing wish to die accompanied by a plan for how to carry out the death. Passive suicidal ideation involves a desire to die, but without a specific plan for carrying out the death

My comments - I fully understand the first.

The second confuses me only because of "unusual". Maybe it is because I've been around death a lot or it's because I suffer from Suicidal Ideation but it just really stands out to me. How would one measure an  "unusual" amount? I've been weirded out by how much some people I know talk about death. Is that a sign for me to worry about them?

The third definition is great. I think I operate life in a passive S.I. state but have moments through the day of active S.I.

In Real Life

I cannot speak for everyone who suffers from it. But I can share what it means for me.

Almost every bad moment leads to a thought of "wouldn't it be better if I was dead?" "If I was dead, I wouldn't feel anything. I wouldn't feel like this now." "If I was gone, I wouldn't have said, did the wrong thing. This person wouldn't feel this way."

Suicidal Ideation is never knowing when a bad moment will come but knowing that when it does, bad thoughts won't be far behind.

It's walking down stairs and thinking "if I miss one, just one little tumble or skip, I'll end up on the floor, possibly with bones twisted in interesting and exciting ways."

It's walking down the street and waiting to cross thinking "if I leap out now, would the car screech to a stop soon enough?"

It's sitting around the house and moving to pick something up. It's that little thought, "how pretty would my arms be, dripping red? Which way would the knive, scissors, razor swerve if I just let it drop and let gravity do the work?"

It's the little moments like missing a bus, losing your keys, not charging your phone that has you questioning everything. "Is there even a point? I'll do the same thing next week, or something worse tomorrow. Is there a reason to wait and see what kind of new terrible things I can just barely get through?"

It's knowing that even though these thoughts exist, even though your head is always a mess and making you sad to have to hear and visualize these painful things, you will never complete them.

It's wondering if surviving can really be considered being strong, as they say, or just cowardly. If taking the plunge is something you won't do simply because it inconveniences you, does it count? Wondering if such a reason not to is really reason enough. People have made it through because they don't want to die. But you? You've made it through because you can't be bothered to take the time.

It's knowing that's not healthy. That people would be sad to see you go. That people would become a little more lost and a little less whole. And yet, that not being enough for the thoughts to stop.

It's not knowing how to ask the questions "how are you feeling" "what's wrong" and "are you okay?" Because what are you supposed to say? "I'm fighting off thoughts of how to end myself." "I'm sad because I have these thoughts that don't benefit anyone." Or "I'm sorry, I'm not really here. I'm watching everyone say goodbye and seeing them attend what is the happiest day of my life. I guess, it's not really the happiest day of my life because I would have to be there, but it's not a great day for them all. Can I feel bad for them when I'm the one who caused the bad day?"

It's shaking off those questions as best you can. And not making anyone aware of the sadness in your head.

The thoughts are a part of who I am. A day going by without such things in my head has never existed. 20 years old and inching along, 13 years old when I wanted to live in multiple world's of fiction, 8 years old when my mom died, 5 years old when I still couldn't pronounce my own name and I was so ashamed, 3 years old when I would cut my hair for disappointing myself, bite my nails when I was anxious, eat paper when I felt empty. All these stages in my life have been met and passed with these thoughts by my side, so loyally.

The only way to survive is to accept them as they are, ignore them the best I can, and live life as fully as I want to in each given moment.

I don't know if there will be a day when I'm able to do all that "normal" people my age do. I don't know if I'll ever want the same things they want. But I will continue to age. I will make the thoughts go away as quickly as I can and never, ever act. Because that is the rest of who I am.

Poem:

On some days
Days like today
Days where I didn't want to fight
Days when I started to see light
Before darkness crept back in
Down into my soul, in the blood under my skin

On those terrible, dreaded days
This is what keeps me afloat
Because who do I want to transfer the pain to
To my beautiful baby cousins who know nothing of the world?
To my brother and aunt who tried to raise me as their own little girl?
To my sisters with whom I've fought this battle, we three who lived it all?
To my friends who know dark gray, not endless black but wish I wouldn't fall?

No
Struggle as I might
I will bear the pain
Because I don't want to go
Six feet under
With a smile on my face
While a part of everyone else
Breaks off and fades away

Worst Day of 2015 - 10/14/15

So far this year I've dislocated my knee, had a reaction to medication, dreamt I was assaulted, and had a major withdrawal.

But today was the worst day of the year.

So yesterday I slept in by accident. And then I laid in bed for more than 2 hours, not wanting to live, let alone think about school projects. I had an okay day, once again not accomplishing or eating all I wanted to. And then, I had to spend time with people. People I love but don't understand me. By the end of day, I was wondering if I'm the weirdest person on the planet or an alien. I'm different and a waste.

Anyway, I was up until 1am getting ready for school. Then my meds and night routine. And off to bed.

I woke up at 5:30 am to a hazy version of my repeat assault dream. I got down from bed and started my morning routine. Drinking water I hate to start my metabolism and prepare for the heat. Eating though I don't want to. Packing food I won't want to eat. Getting my bags ready for a school day and project I don't want to go through. Trying to find clothes that fit the temperature throughout the day and my body that's wasting itself away.

I got to the bus stop, 85% convinced today would be good. Had a nice enough conversation with a guy about what time the bus was coming. And started listening to my beautiful music. The bus came. I got on.

Three minutes into the ride, I realized I couldn't do it and closed my eyes. (My sleep aid was probably still kicking in.) Music, breathing, and waiting for my stop.

Off the bus now, I went across the street and put more money on my card. Trying not to think about my account amount. Sitting, waiting, and reminding myself to breath. When the bus finally came, I sat down and immediately closed my eyes. I got off soon enough, my knee hurting form the harsh stop.

Up to my classroom, not caring about stares for mouthing and gesturing along to my music. Smiling at my teacher and sitting in the classroom with 5 other people. Putting out water and tea I didn’t want to drink but would force myself to. My headphones stayed on. My music is my lifeline, my central gravity. I did some class reading. Decided to get my grades before class, like everyone else.

Class was good as usual. My teacher is wonderful. Only problem being students not majoring in child development complaining about the discussion topic. I shouldn't let it bother me but it does. (Like everything.)

Realized after class that I really should follow through with asking my 1st teacher for the last thing I needed in my 2nd class' first aid kit. "It's just borrowing." "She's a really nice person." "The fact that you failed to obtain this one thing isn't going to ruin her opinion of you." She didn't have it. Slightly stressed (about a project I didn't care about yesterday). But talking to her made me happy. She's a nice part of my day.

Off to my next class. Started a waffle sandwich because I hadn't eaten in 2.5 hours. Forced myself to eat half. Very worried about this 20/300 point project. (If you're going to do something, you have to do it right. Right?) And then, we don't even start with it. But that's alright. My teacher is fun to listen to and very informative. My tablemates are engaging. The grading waited until the end of class.

Then I realized I didn't plan how I was get home. Found 2 buses with the least walking. (Knee hurts, after all. Want to just cut it off. And wearing full length jeans in 90+ degree weather.) But it wasn't coming for 50 minutes. Waited on campus. Music. Continued reading. Started doing my hair to do something with my hands (even though I don't believe in doing hair in public. It's amazing what you get over when you're out of energy to care). Off campus to my bus stop with my hair 70% done. Waited 20 minutes mainly in the sun. Worried my phone may die. (40% scares me while I'm out of the house.)

1st bus was 15 minutes late. Rode listening to music trying not to panic about missing my 2nd bus. Trying to convince myself to get off at my stop and not ride until wherever. (After all, I had work.)

But the 2nd bus was also late. So it was okay. Waiting in the sun, drinking juice and chewing jum. (I'm developing an oral fixation.) I got on the bus, glad I put more money on my card than I had originally planned. Once on the bus, I realized I was sweating too much (minor withdrawal and overheating). I didn't have much left.

Got off the bus. Saw my house and kept my eye on it as I tried to just get inside. Upstairs, in house, took apart my bags, and took a nap.

Woke up 3 times from a horrible food guilt related nightmare. I was having trouble breathing. Couldn't tell if it was physical or mental but it didn't matter. I was late for work. Got dressed on the coolest thing I could find, got water, and left.

I walked down the street singing my favorite calming and reassuring song. Tried to relax, turned the corner and fought a panic attack. Can't have an attack with a child (#1 fear). "Put it off."

Both of us were a little off so it wasn't as enjoyable as usual. As I walked home I told myself to just get home. It didn't work, completely.

Crying on the street has always been another big fear. And today it was realized. Twice.

Straight to the bathroom, ignoring my sister. Cleaned up, calmed down, went out and apologized. She understood. We sat together for a moment. I got a cold pack for my head and went to bed to lay down and relax. Up 30 minutes later, picked out comfortable clothes that make me feel less disgusted with my body. Cold shower, repacked my food and bag. And out I went.

I took my hair out as I walked. I changed my mind about having it up. ("So did I waste that energy earlier, the precious calories?") I smiled at an older lady because smiles are contagious and she has earned a right to joy by surviving life so long. (Is it narcissistic to think of my own smile as a gem? It's only because people tell my it's cute.)

And at this point I realized I was overreacting. Yeah the week, month, year (lifetime) hasn't been going according to plan. But moping isn't going to help. Worrying about my lack of energy (calories and patience), possible panic attacks, and bouts of misery isn't going to delay any of it.

Both my charge and I were more conversational. I enjoyed the time.

I had dinner with friends. (My excitement had been going back and forth all day.) I had fun.

I came home and got to be truly alone for the first time today. Peacefully and unstressed alone, favorite music and my phone.

Once people came home, there were moments I was unhappy with the conversations. But I was ready. Finally.

So yes, it was the worst day of this year. Yes, a couple of my biggest fears were realized or close to it. And yes, the bad part of the day takes up most of the space but I'm here.

And at the moment, don't mind being alive. What more can I ask for?

If I can make it through today, I can make it through any day.

10/15/15 update: wasn't so neutral about being alive most of the day. Woke up continuously for 3 hours with nightmares. Weak all day, physically and emotionally. I was so sure I would faint at some point. A period, 400 calories, and lots of walking will do that to you. But today (well, Friday morning at 0:31), I'm kinda liking existing. Hope I wake up feeling the same.

Knight in Shining Armor

Here you are, all built and strong
Wearing armor, some would say you're the one
My life is broken, shattered pieces on the floor
You're a knight, I'm just a damsel in distress

You've offered your hand, from your white horse
They say to take it, it's the only course
Why is that the only way, the only light
I can't stand, nothing will be fixed without your hand

Everyone knows the fairytales, we've heard of the strife
There's a girl trapped in a wretched life
And then along comes a man to change it all
Out of pain, the woman smiles and they ride off

Is that the story I want told
My life summed up in the words of old
Or can I stand without your hand
I'll stop being a damsel but you'll still be my knight

So I know it's not Poem Tuesday but this is something I've been musing about. Why do girls always need a guy to safe them? Why do guys have a hero complex? It's nice in the comics, movies, and books. But in real life you need to save yourself. Then you'll be ready to have someone stand by your side. I've always worried that if I fell in love with the guy who saved me, I'd be getting my feelings mixed up. I want to be good on my own and better with you.

Speak...Now!!!

Oh tell me, tell me
Why it seems
Things that happen
Aren’t taken seriously

Talking is what goes on
No communication at all
Explaining again and again
Never understanding

Say something to me
How should I reply
Or is it really important
You’ll roll right over it

Listening is good
Using your ears is grand
So why does no one do so
Why can’t it be had

When will I be heard
Do I have to scream
Will it matter when it’s worse
How bad until you see

I can’t talk
And so I lose
Lose my trust, my truth
Lose my everything, lose you

Old poem: I want to say 1.5 years ago but it might have been longer.

I've figure out how to talk. I can say at least half of what I mean now. It isn't always enough. But it's more than before. And people are more understanding and wait for the other half.

Hopefully, I won't lose my truth. Or my people.

Jay Jain's Heart

I see you in my mind
Feel you in my heart
Know that I need you
Fully and in part
Really though
I don't know where to start

All that you do for me
Is too much to explain
Thing that makes me happy
Person who keeps me sane
You make me mad and sad
But mainly you wipe away my pain

You may not know it
But I need you all days
Everything you do
All of your wonderful ways
My love for you shows
My affection plays

When I talk to you
My mind never blanks
Always having fun
Always pulling pranks
All I wanted to say
Was thanks

- CoJa Brown

I wrote this in 2008. I was 13. This was the first poem that I thought was actually good. I guess this would be considered a milestone in my writing ability.

It reminds me of a 13 year old. The message is simple and to the point. It's lighthearted and youthful.

When I read it, I think of the boy I was in love with. And how much I wished I could have just told him this. But I'm not good at sharing my feelings in real life. So I wrote it down and tucked it away. And now it makes me nostalgic for those days.

Not that I want to be 13 again. But I want that breezy emotion of first love. I want the beautiful feeling that comes from being in love without thinking of anything real. Just being who you are. And knowing that the other person accepts you fully.

Wait

I don't know why
I say bye instead of goodnight
I don't know why
I suddenly feel like a cry

But please be there
When I figure it out
I want you around
For every laugh out loud

Poetry

It's National Poetry Month.

I'll post one of my own poems every Tuesday to observe the month. I'll add a poem of a famous poet or a yet unknown poet to every post. But only if it supports the message of the post.

To me, poetry is a free flowing means of sharing thought. There’s sonnets, free verse, epics, ballads, couplets, haiku, limericks, odes, quatrains, and so much more. I love that you can choose your art form. It allows the poet to show different sides of their artistry.

And poems, like books, can be interpreted differently. The reader has some guidelines and suggestions based on the words written. But the reader brings their own experiences and understandings to the poem.

I love that there is a month dedicated to this beautiful literary genre.

The Final Verdict

It's been 3 weeks since I last blogged. Honestly, I've been avoiding it. I've been wrapped in my head, telling myself all the things I do wrong.

In "2015 Purple Owl" I wrote a list of things I'm supposed to do at my age but haven't been able to accomplish. So far, I've made quite a dent in that list.

I've: started school, gone out more weekends, and have been getting experience in my chosen field.

However, I'm not happier for reaching these so called requirements. I'm still being pressured to do more. To get my license. To help around the house more.

It's not that I like avoiding these things. It's that these things scare me. Stress me out and make it hard to sleep. I rarely dream anymore without hearing some piece of advice. In my sleep!!!

And it makes me feel like the most horrible person on the planet.

The Charges: Major Flaws

Guilt makes me small
I hate that I was born
Ruined my family's lives
And many, many more

Guilt makes me mean
To the boy I like
Can't make myself happy
Let alone help him to be

Guilt makes me weak
It pressed down on me
I don't want to go on
And on anymore

Guilt makes me strong
It pushes me onward
For all the suffering
How can I alone escape

So is it good or bad
What is the sentence
Am I wrong
Or am I guilty?

- CoJa Brown

I'm not guilty! I don't have to live in guilt anymore. To be motivated by guilt is painful and misleading. It's wrong to lock myself away and lie to other people.

The Sentence: Personal Acceptance

I'm not sure exactly who I am
Does that make me an idiot
There's got to be a way
To find myself

I am lost inside the world
Life feels like it finds you
Not the other way around
I chose not to be molded

When I'm by myself
I'm a little more real and sound
Now I have to figure out
How much of it is true

I need to accept her
I have to show her to the world
Because there's nothing wrong
With her, with me

If I believe that
I will be happy and strong
I will be me
Different will go on

- CoJa Brown

I guess it's okay not to know who you are, especially as a teenanger. I've just been so sure of myself for 18 years that it's upsetting to be otherwise. I just know I'm not who everyone's telling me to be.

So now, I get to find myself. And you get to come with me. I'll put up the blog topic schedule Monday. Tune in for more!!!

P.S. Double dose of poetry because of my unannounced haitus. I don't plan on being gone that long ever again!

Life of an Anxiety Ridden Teen

I don't know if I have panic attacks anymore. I think I live in a perpetual state of panic. I'm not sure if breathing easy is even possible anymore.

I look out into the world and feel like I'm watching a movie. People move, talk and continue living. Completely detached from me. I'm in a bubble. I have no effect on the story. But every atom of the story has an effect on me.

I'm afraid to leave the house. I'm afraid of what might happen outside. I'm afraid I'll give up. I don't even feel like getting out of bed and talking to my family. I'm afraid they'll say one thing wrong and I'll fall down. And I don't even know what that one thing will be beforehand.

It's ridiculous I know. It's ridiculous to be scared of living. Life is beautiful. I just wish I didn't feel everything.

I was on the street yesterday, waiting for the bus. A young woman in a wheelchair came up behind me. "Do I let her on first? Do I get on first? What is supposed to happen?" All these questions ran through my mind but I couldn't just ask her to find out. I wanted to solve it myself. So I stayed where I was.

No.

She gets on first.

The bus driver told me to hold on. I stepped to the side. He put down the ramp. She got on and I watched her settle in, ashamed.

"Do they think I was unkind, inconsiderate, evil? Do they think I was oblivious? Am I selfish for thinking of getting on first? Does it matter that I forgot the procedure when I didn't offer to let her on?"

I got on the bus. And sat. Silently, lecturing myself for the whole bus ride. Wondering if anyone else saw. Wondering if they all hated me too.

I realized that no one saw it. And if they did, they weren't thinking about it anymore. It didn't matter.

But I need to make everyone's day better. I need them to have liked coming across me. I need them to be happy to have interacted with me.

I waved to the driver, desperately trying to make up for my blunder. I stepped off the bus and started the walk home. I wondered how everyone on the bus would end the day. I hoped it would be well. In spite of meeting me.

I walked past the people on the street. Listened to my music. And teared up. But I refused to cry. Just because I'm crazy doesn't mean I have to cry on the sidewalk. And I needed to get home and make my family's day better.

Now I'm at school. After being late to my doctor's appointment. Effectively ruining his day.

I tried to get everything across quickly. I tried to get out quickly. I tried to put his day back on track.

I got on the bus and tried to breathe. I debated which stop to get off at. I forced myself to stay on the bus until I get to school. Then, I forced myself get off so I wouldn't end up miles from schoool.

"Why do I have to convince myself to do things people do with no problem? Why do I have to remind myself of the rewards? Why do I still not want to do it after all that?"

Daily Motto

Forward, forward
Keep standing
Keep marching
Move on, move up
Do what you need to
Make others proud
Live life well
Be independent

- CoJa Brown

So I got to my department and looked at the benches in the shade. I couldn't sit in the shade. I was cold and would have shriveled up. So I sat on the ground in the sun. And got some strength back.

I got odd looks but I couldn't care. What's socially acceptable wasn't what I needed. It wouldn't help. I did what I wanted to, needed to. Even though it was weird.

That's what I do. I care so much about what people think of me, until I reach a point where it's impossible to care. Until it hurts to care at all.

P.S. I know it's not healthy to be so on edge all the time. My therapist mentioned it could ruin my nerves. But it's really difficult to talk myself out of being upset.

Also this post was a bit chaotic. Sorry about that.

My style of Love

I give out pieces of my soul. That's how I love. I attach myself to people without them knowing. I let them have a piece of my heart.

I always thought I gave out the same number of pieces. I thought I loved everyone equally. But I don't. There are people I gave multiple pieces to. Every time I was with them, I'd give them a new piece. It's dangerous giving that much of yourself away.

Old Pieces

It started one summer
We talked
We learned
I loved

I carried the memories
In my heart
A special place
There they stay

I knew not to hope
I knew I was alone
That you didn't
Feel the same

You've carried on
Now I need to as wel
And like that
In a summer it ends

- CoJa Brown

And then I remember random people I've given my heart to. And I'm in pain because we don't talk like we used to. Because we don't laugh like we used to. Because we don't love as we did.

Boom

I'm having a hard time making myself speak!

It's been annoying me the last 2 weeks. I have to convince myself to open my mouth more often than I like. I'm starting to think there really isn't anything wrong with greeting someone and proceeding to stare at them as they talk eternally.

I know that's socially unacceptable. I know I have to speak to have a conversation. But I can't gather my thoughts. But sometimes my mouth doesn't cooperate. But it's painful to connect my thoughts, speak up, speak clearly, and talk.

Does what I have to say even matter that much?

90% of the time someone else says what I was going to say the same way or better. Does the 10% matter?

I've never really wanted to talk. Sharing my thoughts seems like a burden. But it's never been this difficult before. Before I would talk if needed. I would talk endlessly if that’s what the situation called for. Now I can’t find the power to overcome my fear of speaking. Who has this problem at 19? Is it crazy that I want to become a mute?

It scares me.

I wrote this poem a couple years ago.

Boom

Sometimes I feel like a boombox
I don't think of what to say
But play what people want to hear

I feel like a broken boombox
That won’t turn off
Can't be turned down

Boomboxes don't speak
They don’t have a voice
They don't have a choice

Someone has played me
And So I make noise
I am a broken boombox

- CoJa Brown

Previously it was about being the talkative and loud one even though I didn't want to. When I read it now, it grates on my psyche that I ever was that way. Every time I force myself to speak, I feel like I'm getting louder and more obnoxious. But in reality, I'm probably getting quieter and disappearing. It makes me sad. Really sad and scared!

Spirant Iustum

I've been waiting to post. I wanted my next post to be cheerful. I wanted it to be brighter than the last. But I don’t want to put on a front. I don't want to lie.

I was finally starting to feel better. I could sense the surface. Then suddenly I was forced back down by throw-away lines.

I know logically that I'm tired and sensitive. I know I just need to go to sleep. But emotionally, I wish people knew what their words meant. I wish I could show people the girl frozen, crying in her room.

I'll sleep and forget. Forget the pain I put myself through.

Short poem - Phoenix

Every day I smile
Because despite attempts
To push me down
I defiantly resume
And rise anew

Photograph

I see an old picture of me
And I think oh, what a beauty
There's something I don’t understand
Something that's a mystery

I can remember the day
I remember the feelings I put at bay
What I truly thought
And what I hoped no one would say

How is it that what I see
In the mirror is an ugly little me
But then in the future
I agree, what a beauty I can be

45,435 words! I wrote 3,000 today. Which is great. But I have 4,565 left. 1 day < 4,565 words. I will prove that wrong.

More than Just a Word

Fatherless boys
And motherless girls
They all unite
Living the tale

Don’t know what it means
Or remember too well
Being a member
Forming a family

People pity them
Sigh when they hear
What their history is
What their life has been

Fatherless boys
And motherless girls
To them I relate
And with them as well

I hate the word orphan

34,412 words! Wow. I never thought I'd say I wrote that much in one month. This is amazing. 3 weeks down, 9 days to go!!!

0:45

There’s so much that I do not know

A lot to understand

Is it up? Will it show?

I think I need a hand

I try to fight it all alone

But there’s no back down

It hurts me deep, to the bone

Shaking me around

Once again there are turns

I feel like a shame

And my, oh, my it burns

Living on a rather hot flame

Not everything is what it seems

We may be wronged or wrong

But we all have dreams

Helping us remain strong

White Sea

We were on the ground

Now we’re up so high

Overcame the obstacles

So that we could fly

Can’t take my eyes off what I see

Saw it in a movie once

Never thought it would happen to me

Surrounded by a white sea

Sights of wonder keep appearing

No more need for calming breaths

Cause there’s nothing I am fearing

Being where I am today

Can’t take my eyes off what I see

Saw it in a movie once

Never thought it would happen to me

Surrounded by a white sea

My emotions really are this far

Couldn’t feel this by feet, train, or car

We’re moving away

What I feel I’m happy with

Because of you I am blessed 

Helped me be who I am today

Can’t take my eyes off what I see

Saw it in a movie once

Never thought it would happen to me

Oh yeah surrounded by a white sea

Surrounded by a white sea

Phantom Feeling

Lost deep within my skin
It seems like it should be a sin
If I'm not comfortable being me
What else is left, who can I be

Bubbling forth once again
Is it there or is it me
Can I really have this pain
Why won't it just let me be

Explaining is a heavy chore
People don't understand anyhow
Won't remember it anymore
No idea who I am right now

Bubbling forth once again
Is it there or is it me
Can I really have this pain
Why won't it just let me be

I look around
And shake it out
Everything I am, everything I think
The good, the bad puzzles even me

Come on and forget it all
Don't let it define who you must be
Live life as best you can
Just be who you want to be