Half Measures Poem by Andrus Cassian

This is how it starts
the decline of who we are, the decline of something more
the start of wars
Installed in us is confidence
confidence, a blessing or a curse
Without confidence we stand degraded, disenchanted, alone
while with too much we kick down too many doors
in celebration of charm and charisma gravely mistaken as a badge of honor when it's nothing more than a swelled head
a measly test to gain self esteem built upon miscommunication
Hello society, do you remember me?
No? well I doubt you would and I don't think you could
I don't really remember myself anyway
Who was I before I started typing
who is this new person filling these empty spaces
I have suffered amnesia in recent weeks
A trip to California filled with excitement wonder, adventure, love
something wondrous from the droll momentless wasteland
caused a slight chain reaction from inside quite frightening
My birthday was marred with my own inner demons attacking me
when I breakdown, I breakdown
letting free flowing tears never dared to stain my countenance in droves before
for a straight hour, the peptalk to make that day the best ever
turned into an internal war that raged on for two hours
killing the day, killing the moment, killing plans well prepared
so here I share with you an excerpt of the day:
'There's a lit cigarette...how I hope to high heaven it were true
but seems even my own dreams of tattoos are false
I am false
Do I even exist
What's the point of even trying, I screamed myself a pep talk
exiting from myself to get a grip of myself
What good did that do if I'm sitting here
crying, angrily crying inside my own mind
drowning in burning embers, feeling like a heel
I feel like such a heel ground so far into the dirt
Someone special did something special for me, my Maribelle
and all I can do is waste away here
as she pretends I don't exist, she's frozen by my inaction
as I cease to exist in the physical world like I wish I could
This was a mistake
I sabotaged my own birthday..again
I sabotage everything
Why am I my own worst enemy'
I blame well at least before that day I had an out
I blamed my job for grabbing at my nerves and ripping them out
It took everything I had not to tear my own hair out
Maribelle, she knew my discomfort
she knew my outrage, for a year now our contact has been consistent
a daily motivation
as all others in my social circles went on with their busy lives
we are all loving people with strong ties to one another
yet we are all just terrible at constant communication
a tangent but back to the main course
I've kept this hidden from Maribelle
but one close other knew the truth
I was contemplating suicide
I've been vocal enough of my hate for my life to end prematurely
and surely I hoped nothing would come of it
if I did so solely in writing as I've done in the past
but this last round of grievances
this last round of agitation made it ring true
I maybe overdue for a curtain call
that no amount of love, no amount of promise can bring me back from
so desperately I took feverishly to my notepad and this what came about: 'There's a lit cigarette in the hand of my new angel
at least that's what the ink on my arm dictates, enunciates with feeling, feeling like I'm all devoid of
If I slit my wrists now, may she save me
before I have a split second to change my mind for then it'll be too late
I'd tear my head from neck in violent protest
it was getting too heavy for me anyway
In any and every way, the sickness is sinking in
the poison in it of itself that labels suicide
it's sinking in, bitter ever bitter
burning wounds yet to heal filed under
anger which has been blooming for weeks
uninterrupted weeks clawing up the walls of my insides
begging for freedom
and I in an attempt to not submit chew my own version of cigarettes
a school born addiction of mint and crystals
harmless chewing gum
to ease the anxiety, to stop me from screaming at the top of my lungs
like my hero in anime
Anime, something's not working; this isn't working
the items I use to alleviate the hot air flowing through my system
a form of airbending called breathing, laughing, disintegration
persuasion to lose yourself in distraction
I call it decompression
but decompression compresses me into a box
a claustrophobic box of small proportions
and it's still here, absorption
embedded in my skin, an itch I can't rid myself of
So sets in the sun, singed becomes the hair upon my legs
as fire starts to spit and sputter from above in rays so harsh
and it's crumbling
the structure I was composing
the structure I built
the structure, the structure puncturing through skin....'
Puncturing through my skin was the image of Hannah Baker
displaying in two strokes upon twin wrists her 13 reasons
for ceasing to exist amongst an overflowing bathtub
with tears and screams of pure agony as her lifeforce slipped
I caught my composure in a pretzel knot and broke down
When I break down I break down
and now I don't know who I am
Maribelle, she's trying to put a humpty dumpty back together
yet she alone is grasping at puzzle pieces
while I like a ghost try to aid but I'm useless without my hands
all I can offer is love, love is all I have left
Everything else I fear is only a half measure