There's a part of me that just feels fake. I go through life saying club passwords and going through the motions of social living like an actor in a well-rehearsed play. Someone asks how my day is going and I want to scream a world of pain, but I abstain, instead choosing to parse a simple "I'm good." And I'm happy to do so, because I don't want to drag anyone else down with what I'm dealing with internally, but what about me? Where is my reprieve from being this broken bastard of a person? I have to live with my unfixable thought machine, and all the bullshit that comes with it. I take responsibility for being me, but with that comes the burden of having to cope with the malfunctioning machinery and the code contained within that hardware.

I do a good job with that, all things considered. I put my worst feelings into art. That's what I'm doing now, but here we reach a point in my own mental pitfall where I feel this isn't good enough. So now I switch to a more creative way to say what is inside me.

What place is there for a machine among man?

Do I have a purpose, or a reason to exist here?

I live my life with good intentions, to do what I can

But at the end of the day, I'm left with such a fear

That I am too different; that I am truly defective

A puzzle piece when trying to solve a Rubik's cube

Is this really true, or do I have the wrong perspective?

Or is that thought itself having the wrong attitude?

All I know is that I've come so far in my journey

To find the answer to "Where do I actually belong?"

But maybe my creator simply finds it to be funny

To make machines like me so completely wrong

And I feel a little bit better having written that. It didn't abolish my feelings of ineptitude, but it allowed me to let them out in a way that I can feel proud that I created something worthwhile. I believe I owe a lot of my progress and healing to having done that for so long. The more I work with those thoughts and feelings, the better I process them, and I can release them, allowing me to become a happier and more functional cyborg.

However, I just had a thought! What if I deliberately wrote something that steered my mind in an alternate direction? I can reprogram myself by choosing to be the captain on my mental ship. So, here goes a second poem with the intention to make me feel better about myself.

I might not be the same as all of you

But everyone must admit it to be true

That I can make others who are odd

Believe that a higher power like God

Loves them unconditionally, eternally

Because while I sometimes can't see

My own worth when in I am drowning

I make up for it with positive clowning

And by raising the vibes of the garden

Many more souls will begin flowering

Then with my spirits realigned again

It is myself I can begin empowering

There, I'm in a good place now. I feel like my life has purpose and I'm not a complete failure. I'm someone that my mom and dad can be proud of. Now I feel strong enough to tackle the things life throws at me. I just have to remember my medicine: my art.