The First Stage

The wall I built to cover my emotions
won't enable me to express my feelings
My once strong and raging emotions trapped
weak and weary from trying to budget from my sturdy wall
Glued and sealed tightly together with no air to breathe
Impossible to explode
Almost lost feeling to what emotions are
And barely recognizable to me
Out of fear, my walls started to chip
Every little emotion came out
From mean words, sad stories, and lost friends
whom I haven't grieved over
My hope to release my emotions succeeded
But it's bursting full of speed out of control
My wish to release my emotions are starting to be questioned
My wall kept me outta trouble
And kept me from breaking down
It also covered my real identity
But who needs one here anyways?
They create who I am

I wrote this a long time ago. I don't even remember writing it, but it's definitely my handwriting, and I remember the feeling. So much has changed that I forgot where I came from, what I went through. I'm starting to realize why people consider me to be a strong person. I used to think they were all crap, and they had no idea what strength was. After all, if I'm so strong, why was I so weak? They didn't think I was weak, but they also didn't see that side of me. I couldn't escape it. I didn't consider strength to be what I tolerated and lived through. I felt weak, like I was going to collapse any minute. That's what I focused on, not what I overcame. Others didn't act like that is what I thought. And maybe I'm right, but I have no idea what goes on in the minds of others. Everyone says that who we are now is shaped from years of pain, love, suffering, and a myriad of other experiences. I never doubted it, but I never really examined my past before. I've become this overly-logical person who sees everything in black and white. I never really questioned why I became like this, but I remember now. I couldn't handle the gray areas, so I had to recolor everything. The contradiction is conveyed in this old poetry. I struggle now because I don't think emotionally, even when I should. To think back to a time when I was overrun by them. What a different time. A few months ago, a friend of mine passed away. The first thing that came to mind was the statistical likeliness of his death that I predicted was accurate. Of course, if you live your life that way you're going to die. But around the time that I wrote this poetry, I had a panic attack when another friend passed away. It's not that he meant more to me. My emotional receptors were working at the time.