Help Me Forget

Poetry  |  Derek Anderson

Help me forget…
Help me forget who you were.
Help me forget who I was.
Help me forget who you are.
Help me forget who I’ve become.
Help me forget the bad times.
Help me forget the good.
Why is it so hard for me to forget about us,
when you already forgot about me?

 

In Search of Myself

Article | J.W. Smith

I kind of wish it was okay for someone to not know what he or she wants to do with their life.
I went through high school believing I was going to be a writer.
Since I had a passion for writing, and it came naturally to me, it just made since, right?
I guess I kind of forced myself to take that path, to hide the fact that I was just as confused as my 14 year old self.
I carried that mindset of being a writer past high school graduation, and throughout my two years at college.
During the weeks leading up to my first day at NCC, I thought that maybe this could be a fresh start.
Maybe I’d be able to find myself and my pre-destined career path there.
Yes, pre-destined because some things just are just a perfect fit, and you feel like you’re right where you’re supposed to be.
Here I am, two years later, and I still have no idea what I want to do.
And that idea is kind of terrifying.
I’ve literally just been sitting in my room, at a standstill, while almost everyone else is moving on in life.
It’s not a comforting feeling.
I want to blame it on my depression. I really do.
There’s no point in trying to hide it, even if it is undiagnosed.
It would make sense to blame it on that, right?
Maybe I have no drive because I’ve been fighting and at times repressing this feeling.
I’ve been showing signs of depression as long as I’ve been confused about my career path, maybe even longer.
I’m 20 years old, looking at my life, and honestly, I don’t know where I am anymore.
It’s scary. My life is passing me by and I’m just letting it because I’m confused.
I don’t even know where I’m going with this.
I want to grow up so bad but I don’t even know where to begin, since I’ve been confused about what to do with my life for the past six years.
I still haven’t found myself, and I’m not sure if I ever will.

This Could be You

Poetry | Annie O’ Sullivan

this could be
you
and me
but second thoughts
i’m sorry.
You, i know, are
precious
to me but
me to you
I seem to be
used.

i’m not a fan of
your poor routine
it’s poison
you see
you’re killing me,

i hate you
so much
but
i want you
to stay.

To Be

Poetry | Michael Lee; Photography | Cody Deabold

 

I wish to be like a tree;

To stand tall,

To accept I might lose a branch but I will still stand as a whole,

To embrace change as the leaves do through seasons,

To spread myself as far as I need to grow as the roots do,

To let the rain of a storm cleanse instead of destroy,

To let sunlight in and allow it to soak through my veins,

To be sturdy and hold my own.

I wish to be strong,

I wish, to be.

Unsettled Child

Article | Michael Deabold; Photography | Annie O’ Sullivan

 

“Who can you trust when you turn on yourself?”

I’m one of those people who stares in the mirror and doesn’t like what they see. But it’s not my appearance that I don’t like. It’s the person staring back at me.

I look past myself and see what’s inside.
All this self doubt that’s saying I’m not good enough.
The unsettled child deep, I hide.
The negative person I can’t escape.
The fuck up that’ll never get it right.

Starting to think my easy going persona is just a mask.
I see selfishness, self righteousness and my temper.
I see me being a terrible friend.
I feel my innocence and youth slowly wearing off.
And the world is breaking my back, from the weight I pinned upon it.

Conflicted to what I believe.
No one deserves me, but I don’t deserve them either.
Drawing battle lines in the sand against people who may or may not deserve it.
I don’t like how I am, but I like the way I think.
I want people listen to my advice, but I could never take it myself.
Am l a leader or a dictator?
I want everyone to be like me, but I hate myself.

So why would I want that?

The black in my eyes says it all.
The shadow of my former self has returned.
The sixteen year old I thought I killed, reappears.

I say to myself “I grew passed you, little boy, you no longer own me.”
You can take your darkness with you, when you leave.

“I am a novelty, but I’m twice the man I used to be”

Opening and closing quotes from “Hate Me” & “Bear with Me” by Bayside.

A Stranger Who Defies Description

Poetry | Amanda Davis

 

You’ve got a strange way about you,

And it’s no good for me.

Gonna take a few days to clear my head.

And maybe I’ll still be here.

-

So many things that I would like to say,

But can’t quite grab onto the words.

Let me take a few days to clear my head.

And, just maybe, you’ll still be there waiting.

-

I saw a rainbow in the shower,

Then wondered who I could tell…

If you took a few days to clear your head,

Would you still come back to me in the same strange way?

Airbrushed Memories

Article | Bryan J Mangam

Years have passed. I look back to an artificial serenity floating through the air: A recollection of manufactured thoughts, created from what was once the painful minutiae of ordinary life. Those experiences have been filtered through my mind, effortlessly polished over time, and released back into my brain as distorted memories.

Now all I can remember are thoughts of genuine, everlasting happiness, seen through a kaleidoscope of glistening nostalgia. These are visions, I feel so intensely. But I know they aren’t true.

It’s not what it seems, I tell myself. I’ve had pain. I’ve had struggle. But where’d it all go? These hardships seemingly have been softened over time, gradually faded, until being erased completely.

Maybe this is some kind of coping mechanism triggered by my brain. Maybe it’s allowing me to get on with my life, without holding a vengeance on the past.  In fact, these thoughts might actually be helpful. It’s just I can’t help but possess a strong inclination to gaze back at the past.

It’s a land that seems to encompass so much more opportunity than what I face today, If only I wasn’t being so entirely deceived by my own brain’s airbrushed memories.

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