You threw stones,
You smirked when I was in pain,
You laughed at my failures,
You made fun of me in my hardships,
You back bitched about me.
But, you know what, I SURVIVED.
The stones you threw, I made my road out of them.
The smirk you had made me endure my pain.
Your laughter in my failures, well that echoed in my ears and constantly motivated me to do better.
Making fun of my hardships wasn’t a good deed, you should not have forgotten, TIME NEVER REMAINS THE SAME.
And when you back bitched about me, well that was the time I knew that I am moving, moving forward in right direction.
I guess, I should credit you. You were the constant motivator in my journey.
For all my fiends who wants to reach heights. Focus only on yourself, you are your only support.The sludge they threw will…
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she sits alone
and stares into space
thinking too much
her thoughts whirl
and she wonders
how long it will be
she can go
its hard to sit
and hard to just breathe
she counts to 10
as does thinking
in fact everything just hurts right now
a diamond is merely a lump of coal
that did well under pressure” – Henry Kissinger
As a disclaimer, I want to begin this post by stating that although Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) consists of numerous symptoms that are experienced by a majority of sufferers, this account is, in no way, meant to mirror the experience of anyone but myself. Whatever the situation, whatever the diagnosis, we all live very unique lives and I would never attest to an ability to explain everyone’s’ exact experience. This is my account, and mine alone…
Having only recently realized that I suffer from PTSD I am constantly reminded of how much it affects my everyday life. To this day, I have no idea how I missed it. I know I generally downplay what has happened to me, throughout my life, but to have completely missed a diagnosis which I have an extensive level of understanding of is…
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A mental health issue I’ve seen little talk about is complex post-traumatic stress disorder or C-PTSD. Often caused by a lifetime of trauma rather than one traumatic event, this type of PTSD is exactly what the name implies — complex.
My complex PTSD symptoms can take me from being a very logically-minded person capable of multitasking like a pro to a place where leftover emotions from past trauma assault my brain, leaving me crying and shell-shocked, struggling to remember basic things, like how to follow recipes, for days.
I am fine until it happens — a capable, competent, fully-functional adult… until I’m not. I hate PTSD. I get no say in what or who triggers my memories. I live in fear of the next time I’m reduced to a heap on the floor, pressing my head against the wall, holding my hands over my ears with my eyes squeezed tightly closed.
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Written by Jacob Ibrag
Grinding teeth. The anxiety
of waiting. Taking on its own persona, it
chews through your nerves and remaining bits of
patience. Laughing at your struggle to keep cool, it replays
each memory of failure. Whispering thoughts of disinformation.
Arguing. Trying to take a stand. Begging every fiber of your
being to push against its neck. Staring at a carbon
copy of yourself, ‘waiting on a blue sphere
in an ocean polluted with doubt.’
Photo by Sam Burriss
Over the years Eyes + Words has turned into a wonderful budding family of over fifteen thousand people across all platforms. It’s surreal and humbling to know that the art of poetry and story is alive and thriving. That being said, I hope that the creation of the Eyes + Words Writers Group serves as a vehicle and launch pad to help and support writers and the aspiring ones to keep…
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