Author: Athena OfAthens

I feel creative energy jingling my private parts. I like to write and I also hate to write. I am getting over hating it now that I am starting to understand that I was lied to as a child and I actually do possess a brain that functions, as well as a pretty fair amount of other desirable traits. My own acceptation of the inherent knowledge and talent I possess took a long time for me to understand and believe. I'm still not there yet, and neither are my writing skills. However, I heard many years ago, from a source which I cannot recall, that one can not expect to improve upon something which one does not practice. Let the practice begin! I AM: Charming, witty, funny, dreamy, screamy, honest, angelic, demonic, intuitive, fanciful, over-reactive, angry, sweet, ex-dope fiend, petulant, unsane, genius, idiotic, truthful to a fault, eiditic memory, beautiful, sad, melancholy, aloof, clingy, maniacal, suicidal, dancing, old-fashioned, fuckin weird, sesquipedalian, exuberant, anxious, bipolar, fertile yet sterile, ambiguous, impulsive, impetuous, artistic, conspiracy enthusiast, moody, non-trusting, musical, flighty, drinks like a machine, fear of rejection, prone to isolation, fearless, fearful, analytical, conservative yet liberal, irrational, enigmatic, low self-esteem projecting high self-esteem, positivity cheerleader for others, worried yet carelessly optimistic, sexy, sometimes argumentative, mentalist, book-lover, procrastinator, initiate, loving, people-watcher, people-pleaser, numb, first-class twerker, major depressive, feelings denier, possibly some kind of schizo, definitely borderline, possibly bipolar, drawn to the esoteric like a moth to a flame, ferocious, tender, mother, fierce, strong yet so very weak, prone to addictions, mediator and meditator, introvert, healer, lover and a fucking fighter....a paradox personified.

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Black Tea

Sunlight is good but I ain’t seeing much I am rarely outside or doing anything such as hanging with friends cause I’ve lost most of them, I only talk to a few and little time do I spend outside of this camper I’m living in…I feel myself dying and I finally started crying…I didn’t cry for a while during this exile but some tears came today and I turned them away because they make my face stay in an ugly display of swollen eyes and cheeks and I get no relief from the acid rain pouring with overwhelming grief…and I hate how the grief is absorbing all of me andI hate that my blogs show only black tea which permeates my soul so frequently.I want to be happy, I want to be free of this depression so thick that my eyes cannot see anything good inside of me or in this place that I’m in and I hate going to sleep just to wake up being in the same place…I hardly ever go put makeup on my face cause there’s none to impress with all my distress…no one wants near such a fucking hot mess…and lately I wonder if I’ll ever be from under this thick dark black cloud, my burial shroud, which screams at me loud and it sounds like a crowd of monsters and demons and those of just treason without any rhyme and without any reason…I’m doing no pleasing in this horrible season which has lasted for years and stripped all my gears and made me the joke of all of my peers while they laugh and do cheers…I think many are glad to see me so sad and that makes me mad and makes me wish that I had died long before it got so damn bad.

Lessons

I am down right now but it’s only temporary…

There is obviously a lesson here that needs to be learned and it’s taking so long that I’m becoming concerned…I usually learn my lessons pretty damn quick but I’m still stuck in this prison and the warden’s a dick…which made me think as I sat down to pee…maybe this lesson ain’t for me.

Trapped, Lord

Lord, I know oftentimes throughout my strife I have been less of a human and more like wildlife and I know so many times I’ve screamed and I’ve cried begging you to help me just one more last time…always admitting I crossed the damn line and always promising I’ll do no more crime if you’ll please reach me your hand and help me to climb out of this hole and wash off the grime and you never have failed with your harsh, sweet sublime to do what I asked when I had neither dollar nor dime…but GUESS WHAT, YAH? I’M BACK IN THE LINE.
I sit yet again, in a slovenly pen which is now and has always been the manifestation of my mind.

I do declare it’s a mess in there and I just do not know where I put that spare. It’s lost amongst the animal hair and dirty underwear and a few shares of stale food that I never ate because I swear, I’m never hungry and I got no clean plate.

Listen, please God, I need you real bad cause the knot in my stomach which is made out of sad is metastasizing fast like a Kardashian fad and if it keeps up it’s spreading I just might really go mad.

I have begun to notice that each time I ask the time I must wait is longer than last. I’m not sure why that is, but I need your help fast. I am quite certain, cause I’ve heard in the past that the harder life gets and the more overcast and the more I’m harassed and more put on blast, the more steadfast my heart stands on the wall it’s tiredly amassed.

I do not believe that’s the lesson I need to acquire the manna my soul needs to feed. I was put here to hurt and put here to bleed. Pain is the best teacher I need to help find that one seed of mustard it takes to succeed…and success in this life is not guaranteed and when it comes to evolving I would rather concede to wholly agree: humility and love are the Divine Decree.

You ever?

You ever feel so paranoid you just want to die? There is no question, you definitely know why and no you’re not crazy you know the blue sky but below is so hectic that you just want to fly up into the clouds; up into the sun…compared to this life, burning seems like fun. You have no family and you got no friends and it seems you’re on a time-loop that ends and starts again, and all you fing want is for your real life to begin but you slowly realize that it already has and this is it and then you wondered what list you signed up for this shit…You think you will make it cause you know you got it in you, but the rain won’t stop pouring and there’s no one to defend you when you’re sopping ass wet from despair and regret and you just wanna forget all the people that you met that held out a carrot when you were stinking like a ferret knowing there’s no merit and you never did prepare for it cause you thought it would be over when you stopped doing drugs but now you realize your addiction was always to bugs and leeches that will suck your blood till your fucking drained and now middle-aged and slightly fucking maimed from the torment in the brain, people calling you insane but you know you’re fucking not you just refuse to play their games.

Dissociation

Dissociation is a type of mind vacation when things are getting heavy and you got no preparation and the feeling of deflation is the usual provocation to put you in a station in another fucking nation things look like animation and you ponder your creation but you’re feeling no elation most times when you are facing the anti-jubilation of your own emancipation from the world in which you’re pacing in shoes which have no lacing and you know you’re losing races that you prolly should’ve won but someone shot the gun too quick looking like a dick cause they caught you fucking wasted but just because you’re pasted on this piece of paper and you feel like you’re a vapor after smoking with your neighbor and the labor is a sabre (tooth tiger) with a bite that’s full of Jager and you know you’re nothing major so you never try to wager too much on yourself cause you just keep your talents mostly to yourself all upon your shelf just like the Christmas elf who comes to steal your wealth when you are shaking and got nothing left and just wanna kill yourself.

But you don’t, because that was never the real Plan.