In this collection, I dive even deeper into the darkest sides of my mind. I explore my suicidal thoughts and overwhelming desires to meet death. Attempting to make sense of my demons, I write to loved ones, myself, and those who battle with similar thoughts. I dive into the many different sides of myself, into my biggest insecurities and fears, into my past struggles, and everywhere in between. I hope to show through this collection that, despite the vibrant colors painted by social media, the world is still a place filled with so many dark places. And that's okay. Emotions are meant to be explored--even the darkest ones.
here are some reviews
The poetry in this book is raw and honest and you can nearly feel the human heart behind it beating through the pages."
--Remi on Goodreads (Pretending To Try To Be Okay)
Apart from the incredible poems inside, he opens and closes the book with very heart felt, often humorous, letters to the reader."
--Amazon Customer on Amazon (Pretending To Try To Be Okay)
If you’ve ever struggled with depression, know somebody who is currently struggling with mental health issues, or just enjoy reading something raw and real, you’ll need two."
--Ataylor on Amazon (Pretending To Try To Be Okay)
here are some poems
i made you cry again tonight.
it seems to be happening more and more, lately.
i don’t mean to make you cry, but i always seem to find a way.
i know you worry about me, i worry about me, too; and i know you are afraid of the things that i can do, i am terrified, too.
i hate these hands and this mind and the thoughts and plans and schemes that travel between them both.
i know they don’t mean to harm me, it’s just sometimes the light in my heart is too dark for them to know where they are going, you know?
this breath in my lungs is really heavy, the heartbeats are painful against my ribs, and sometimes this earth doesn’t quite feel like home to me.
they only want me to be happy, as do you, as do i, and i promise i am trying to be okay.
or i am trying to try, pretending to try, i don’t know.
my mind is a scary place to be and i’m so sorry i ever introduced you to all these dark roads.
i am sorry that i shook your hand with this hand of mine that wants so badly to wrap itself so tightly around my neck, wrap its fingers around a gun, a rope, a bottle, i don’t know.
i try not to listen as it schemes with my mind.
i only try to look at you, but you are covered in tears and my mind and hands are still scheming and you are so afraid.
i am not writing this book for you.
i am writing it for me.
i am writing it because i am fucking terrified that if i don’t write this book then i will do something i can never take back.
i have demons.
they swim beneath my skin and, though i attempt to fight them off, too often i am weak.
so i am writing, instead.
words that may be last, though i pray that they are not.
war is such a terrible thing.
it can break you in ways almost impossible to see with the naked eye.
but i can feel it inside.
i am breaking.
so, now i am writing.
i am pretending to be okay, trying to be okay, pretending to try to be okay, whatever you want to call it, but i am not fucking okay.
i am not, i am not, i am not, i am not, i am not writing this book for you.
i am writing it for me.