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Posted August 10th, 2017 by AlgebraAddict

by esther

August 10th, 2017


I find that when I describe my emotions to people, there’s one word that I keep using.


See, to me frustration isn’t just a feeling

It’s a state of being

It’s solving a puzzle, but the last piece won’t fit and inside I know that I’m going to have to take it all apart

Just to fit in the one last piece

But I’m too stubborn to do it.

It’s hearing ignorant words and wanting to slam the bigot in question up against a wall

And scream in their face how pathetic they are

But they’re my friend, and I can’t lose another friend. 

It’s seeing the face of someone I hate, and wanting to pick a fight

To scream at them, and kick them in the gut so they fall over

But they’re stronger than I am.  And in a fight, they would win. 

Frustration is being weak. 

It’s seeing on TV how the good guys are able to kick the bad guys’ butts

Just to protect the ones they love

And knowing that I’ll never have the capacity to do that.

It’s wanting, deep down, to get my ass handed to me. 

To land the first blow, but then be smacked down onto the asphalt

And I’d know that at least I tried.

Frustration is wanting something that I can never have.

It’s wanting to be believed in,

Even though I can’t even believe in myself

And remembering with a jolt that I will never, ever be deserving of anyone’s trust. 

Frustration is a fire that’s lit inside of me

It starts in my diaphragm

It creeps down

Down into my belly, through my core and my groin

It makes my right leg shake uncontrollably

And my left leg be uncannily still

And it roars up, through my arms and through my throat and I’m going to scream it all out—

But I can’t.

I’m in class right now.

And I want to succeed, don’t I?  So getting kicked out of class is not an option

Frustration is wanting something more

Sleep, eat, school, homework, sleep, I’m so fucking sick of it

But all the same, I want to do well in school, and so I must at least attend my classes

And do my homework

And not lose my mind (at school anyway). 

You can see my frustration, sometimes

Frustration is layer upon layer of scar tissue, embracing my thighs and my hip

Frustration is the bit of mascara beneath my eye, because I didn’t wipe off my makeup last night

Frustration is the bruising on my arm, where I punched myself because I couldn’t find anyone else to punch

Yes, you can see it.

But you don’t believe it; not really. 

And you don’t understand:

I’m not frustrated.

I don’t have frustration.

I am frustration.

I am everything I hate, and more.




See more stories by esther
this really struck a cord,

this really struck a cord, loved it

Posted by moeuhane on Sun, 08/13/2017 - 18:46
it's been so long since you

it's been so long since you were on, hi!!

Look at you, posting such hard-hitting gutsy poetry, your work is always so exhilarating to read.


"You can't be grey." - SilverSnowLeopard, 'Ignite'

Posted by AstraMendaxRe on Mon, 08/14/2017 - 17:59

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