Poem by Faith Owen
It all started in an instant four years ago,
When I was sixteen.
It was one of the worst days of my life I know,
Experiencing the death of a loved one as a teen.
My grandpa meant the world to me,
And he was the first to teach me how to play guitar.
Although he left this world too quickly,
He still holds a place somewhere deep in my heart.
Since then, everything has changed, and now it feels unknown.
I find myself always questioning,
Whether my thoughts and feelings are my own.
And the voices and sounds I hear around me are deafening.
It seems that something is wrong with me,
But I have not been able to figure it out.
Every day is a challenge, unfortunately,
My mind is consumed with constant worry and doubt.
I mutter the words, “I am a nobody,”
I feel as if my whole being belongs to someone else.
It has become something I cannot escape totally,
The sensation of feeling distant from everyone including myself.
Every day, I wake up in a dream-like state.
I often have a difficult time remembering the place I call home,
Even the people in pictures to whom I supposedly relate.
The family members I was once told are mine, I tend to disown.
When I look down at my hands and feet,
They look tiny and lack color.
My manipulative eyes bring me much deceit.
Tasks like driving are hard since blurry vision makes it tougher.
I have failed in many aspects of my life,
From keeping a job to making friends.
I have been told many times I act robotic-like,
Not knowing who controls my behaviors and actions.
I live in a state of devastating fear,
Almost every person I see blurs into a hazy phantom.
Anything I reach out to ends up being far rather than near,
My false perceptions have become somewhat of a custom.
I am burdened with being lonely,
Others remark that I cannot keep a conversation going.
Those who care for me give up and drift away slowly,
Now, the idea of staying home alone isn’t so opposing.
Maybe the thing I’ve been wondering is wrong is me,
Clearly, this is so since others claim I am “going insane.”
Obsessively questioning reality deprives me of being free,
Something impossible to contemplate for those who are sane.
Living my life is like looking at a snow globe,
Observing, from a distance, my being interacting with the world.
From shopping for groceries to getting the lawn mowed,
This perspective makes me feel so perturbed.
Now that I am older, at the age of 20,
Life, as I know it, is just going through the motions.
Each day flies by; I wake up, go to school, and rest plenty,
All the while showing hardly any emotions.
When I received the news that my precious grandma passed,
Not one tear was shed.
The sympathy I once had quickly vanished, leaving me detached,
Which left family members, who knew this, feeling wrecked.
Eventually, I sought professional help for my troubles,
Of feeling like a foreigner in my own body.
The doctor told me it was possible,
To ease the sensation of feeling like a “nobody.”
I now engage in talk therapy,
By discussing the things that contradict reality.
From seeing ghost-like figures to questioning my identity,
Believing I was brutally beaten, which, now that I think of it,
It never actually happened to me.
Even when I sit down to eat a snack,
My apples and berries look very strange.
They appear curved and bent, in the color of grayish black,
Bringing me no satisfaction; oh, how I long for change.
At last, the pills I now take have partially eased,
My constant disconnection with myself and my environment.
The pills, named “Zoloft,” have left me well pleased,
Lightening my numbness and correcting my judgment.
I yearn for the day I no longer suffer,
From living a life that lacks hardly any emotions and color.
Though medicine has helped manage my dream-like encounters,
I still feel my mind, soul, and body belong to some other.
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