TBI

I wrote the following while stuck in this limbo of wanting to give up begging for medical treatment and accepting my fate as permanent. I didn't know how to voice to my therapist or neurologist about what I was going through. I always think about editing the grammar for this piece, I feel that the scattered bit of it adds to the conveyed feel of the piece. During my recovery I was still working full time.

Thoughts in a split seconds knocked from my brain 

I opened my eyes to dirt in my nose.

Weeks went by. 

sober I walk around carrying a drunk brain

thoughts drifting through my head a revolving door

spun by kids giggling and laughing forgetting the purpose of a door;

my thoughts are stuck in this place I cant access.

my memory is a useless piece of paper stuffed in a pocket then laundered.

i know its there, always showing blank

names I used to speak through my lips; gone.

the ability to sit down and focus is gone. 

the person I used to be, I don't see her in the mirror.

i see a body missing its soul fighting to be seen, heard

yelling for help silently the voice echoing in my skull

never hitting the ear drums of those around me.

I walk forgetting where I place my feet having no idea where I am going 

because the moment I took two steps I had already forgotten. 

a useless concoction of cells and matter, 

breathing oxygen from better capable beings. 

I still am expected to function up to par with my peers

while I can barely keep my eyes open when I get home. 

I open doors differently, I see the world as a list of hazards 

many ways to get hurt, many more to die. 

words become difficult to speak. I mostly walk away. 

I am not me. I don’t know where she is 

Everyday a new challenge comes up. 

slowly words filter through my lips, 

If I speak fast they muddle if I speak slow they slur 

the happy medium invokes a stutter 

I hate the voice I hear. 

I hate the speech I hear. 

I hate the face I see in the mirror. 

I hate the lack of brain function I am allowed to have. 

I have places to go, and the world sits and laughs as I stumble 

through my steps, through my words, through my thoughts 

through the halls, through my assignments, through my friendships, 

attempt to figure out my emotions as I sit wondering what am I supposed to feel 

have I become psychotic? 

Do I have feelings anymore? Is all I feel is confusion and anger? 

is this how I am supposed to live my life, oblivious to everything around me

because all I want to do is not die.