Love, Epilepsy, LGBTQ+, Mental Health, and General Poems
The simplest things
are sometimes the hardest to understand
and that’s okay
Why waste your time trying to decipher things that will drive your mind in circles? I’ve learned that what may seem simple to some people may not be so simple to myself, and vice versa.
This can be applied to anything, and it can be frustrating to think that you can’t know *everything*.
At the end of the day, you can only trust that you’ll make the right decisions based on what you know, and that you’ll be okay.
Did I take things for granted growing up?
Looking at all the directions, I could argue with myself that yes, yes I might’ve.
Yet what I took for granted opened my eyes to write what I am writing about right now.
What’s in the past is in the past.
All I can hope is that I make the most of today and the days to come.
There is still some light
in darkness
If you allow there to be
When I️ had my last full-body seizure in February 2018 after not having one for almost 5 years, it brought me to my absolute lowest. Like, low-low-low. I️ thought I would never have to feel one again, but life decided to take a huge shit on me instead.
Along with the extremely poor outlook I had of my life in the foreseeable future, the weather was dreadful for the next few months up until late April. Everything seemed gloomy, and I️ was clearly in a state of depression.
What kept me going was the support of my boyfriend, who was also going through his own things, and my 2 year old niece Vienna, who I’d see everyday. Those were two sparks of light that I had.
Along with this, I️ came up with a plan with my epileptologist (cooler way of saying seizure doctor), and started trying different medications to begin living a normal life.
The first few months were rough – two medications gave me bad mood swings and heightened anxiety, and only added to the “when are these shitty months going to end?” feeling I had.
Looking back, there wasn’t exactly a brand-new screwed in light bulb blinding everyone in sight. But it’s the old “light at the end of the tunnel” that I’m talking about here. Everything would eventually turn out OK, as I move toward tomorrow!
Don’t try so hard to be deep,
There are simpler ways to speak,
But I crumple up my paper,
Because there are many things to say,
It’s not that I’m trying to be “deep”,
The truth just comes out that way.
When I write things to express myself, I️ want to stay away from clichés as much as possible, although they sometimes fit in nicely with what I want to say.
Other times though, it’s frustrating when I️ want to talk about serious issues and it comes off as me trying to be “deep”, aka inauthentic or fake. This leads to me to overthink my words and my work overall, and creates a cycle of changing my words and thus changing what I actually want to say.
Does anyone else go through these feelings when writing?
watch me burst
like the fury of a thousand storms
i am stronger
than i give myself credit for
Some simple motivation here. Take advantage of those moments where you feel you can do anything. It didn’t happen very often to me about 1.5 to 2 years ago, but in hindsight, I sure as hell didn’t take them for granted when I did get those moments.
When I had a million thoughts running through my head at night, I didn’t realize how much of a positive outlet writing could be. When I woke up at 6am one morning with my thoughts still running, I opened up my laptop and wrote about 20 poems or anecdotes over an hour. I had never felt that type of energy to do that before.
Seeing that amount of anger or “fury” in my words was cathartic, because it allowed me to see how much I had gone through. It justified to me that at that point in time, I could do more, I just had to start somewhere.
I should mention that a lot of these early poems were written during that time period, but the feelings behind them are not ones that I forget.
Eyes are working
Ears are working
Arms are working
Speech is working
I am grateful, but other things aren’t working.
What now?
Point blank, it’s hard living with a disability, invisible or visible, external or internal. It took a while for me to understand and swallow that pill that having epilepsy is going to stay with me forever. I just didn’t want to accept it.
However, epilepsy itself isn’t where this poem hits the target for me. It’s the anxiety, sad feelings, bad thoughts, and anything else that makes me look at the negatives of what my life could be in the future while having this condition. Of course I’m grateful for all the other aspects of my life being healthy, but when one thing feels it isn’t “working”, it can take away that gratefulness and turn it into bitterness.
Throughout my journey with blog, I’ll uncover more and more about this aspect of my life (as the poem reflection sees fit). For today, things are working for me as best as they can be, and I’m proud of that.
good morning,
my first breaths as I wake up
are as light as they are
when you look at me
and tell me I’m beautiful
All I can say about this poem is that I wrote it in about 45 seconds at about 10:00AM during work.
The word beautiful is a very strong one. It’s even stronger when there’s sentimental value supporting it.
Never gets old hearing it too.
Love is beautiful, isn’t it?
It’s in my blood to feel impending doom,
I’m still learning how to forget about the fear,
And watch the flowers bloom.
It’s alway shitty to think of the future as something scary, because as some people say, “it hasn’t happened yet”.
There’s always *something* I think about though, even if it’s tomorrow or a year from now, that gets me thinking of all the possibilities both good and bad. Maybe it’s a nurture thing because 95% of my family members are the ultimate worriers, but who am I to diagnose that issue?
I think some forms of fear can be helpful to a degree. In this case I’d say I use fear as a way to prepare myself, but as I type that out I think: “shit, preparing myself is not the same thing as staying up an extra two hours at night thinking of every ungodly possibility”.
Hold on while I get “que sera, sera” tattooed on my arm.
Welcome to my world of thoughts. I’m happy you’re here!
My name is Franco.
I like to think of my poem style as a clusterfuck of words that revolve around a particular subject, smoothing out the edges as I go.
But sometimes my thoughts go deeper and I take a couple of days forming sentences together. You’ll see that here.
My poems vary. I have epilepsy, so I write about the struggles of having a (somewhat) invisible disability. I’m gay, so I delve into things both happy and sad regarding the subject. Love is universal, so of course I enjoy writing about that too.
And then there’s the daily things that pop up in my head, as I stare outside my window at work, when I’m lying in bed at 2 in the morning, or when I’m physically sitting in front of my laptop wanting to write something.
My poems have been sitting collecting Word Document dust, so I’m ready to share. Here we go!
i didn’t get first place
but i made it past the finish line
There will always be days like this, where I feel I didn’t do enough either because of external, or most likely, internal factors. It could be as simple as laying in bed all day to take three naps, but sometimes it’s necessary. I started my blog with this poem because it’s one that is short, but airs out a lot of frustrations I have had with myself.
Making the finish line in first place is great, but pacing yourself in the face of anxiety or depression, and overcoming those hardships to make that imaginary line even if for a day, are ones to be celebrated as well.
The Poetry Collection