TW: Self-harm, suicide, general mental illness
Artist's Statement
Mental illness is one of the most dangerous things in the world, but we know almost nothing about it as a society. Every year, over 45,000 people die from suicide, and more than and most people still think mental health is not as important as other aspects of health. I have personally struggled with many aspects of mental illness, including self-harm and a suicide attempt. I want people to understand how terrifying it is to struggle with these things, especially if it feels like you are alone in it. I want people to understand that stigmas and stereotypes are severe and damaging, but I also want people with mental illness to know that they are not alone, they are never alone. As cheesy as it sounds, it does get better. I hope my poem can help neurotypicals understand exactly how it feels, at least in my experiences. I want my story to inspire those still struggling with mental illness.
In my poem, I use many metaphors. Metaphors can take an unfamiliar experience or feeling and connect it to something that everybody understands. With such a stigmatized topic like mental illness, I think the metaphors I use help connect the reader to my experience and to the scenes I describe within the poem. I also used many instances of alliteration, which help with rhythm, for both reading and performing. However, poetic devices must be matched to the poem that you are writing, which is why I didn't use many other options. I do not like the use of onomatopoeias, as I believe they can detract from the entire poem if they are not performed perfectly. I also prefer not to use anaphora, because although they can help emphasize important ideas, sometimes the rest of the poem can be lost. I prefer to use metaphors over similes, as they leave a bit more to the imagination. A poem is an interactive piece of writing, the reader will have a different experience from the author, and I want to leave as much space as possible for the reader to do that with my writing. If I had more time, I think I would work on making sure every single word of my poem has an important purpose there. I tend to write too much, and I'm afraid some of the words I have included do not need to be there.
In my performance, I attempted to keep the audience on their toes by not sticking to the same cadence, pitch and rhythm. Though my speed changes constantly, I wish I could’ve changed my volume and cadence more to fit the emotion of the stanza. Throughout the poem, I think I gesture too much with my hands. This has been a problem for me for a long time, as I always talk with my hands. I am, however proud of the fact that I did not fidget, and I change my facial expressions to fit the poem. If I had more time, I would just practice over and over again. I had to pause at some points to remember the next line, and I think repetition would help get rid of some of my performance anxiety.
You’re Mental
Trapped, but somehow floating free
Racing forever through a steadily shrinking tunnel
Scrabbling for a handhold,
Split open yet stuck closed.
Palpitating heart, blurry vision, blood stops, there’s a thought collision
Chemicals rush to and fro, commands lose all precision
Bottles, bodies, slapped with labels
Cemented to skin, no matter how hard you tug, all that peels is flesh
Just because they have anxiety, they don’t have to be agitated, apprehensive, always angsty, always anxious
Just because they have depression, they might not seem downhearted, despondent, dissected
Just because they have autism, they aren’t always antisocial, apathetic, angry, amiss
But they are, and always will be human
Inhuman parasites sprinting through the mind, picking fights, starting wars
The sweet taste of hope tickles the tongue before fleeing the onslaught of bitter desolation
Organs twist in chaos
They run through dark streets, hopelessly lost, alone
Begging for a map, a street sign, a guide
A howling, shambling shape races through the towering, murky jungle
Your feet are ensnared in fear, wrapped in thick vines of dread
The semblance stalks closer
You, the prey, stiffen in fear, the hairs on the back of your neck shoot up, adrenaline pumps through your system, your heart working overtime
Facilities with peeling paint and bars over windows
Promises from the mayor for healing hospitals made and broken time and time again
We are supposed to get better here? In a room even sadder than we are?
Rahm leers over tiny, helpless people, laughs at the pleas
With stolen money spilling out of silk-lined pockets
Promises to help but says he has no more to spare
Hides in a luxurious palace erected from the hard-earned cash of the helpless
But there is hope, there is a light at the end of the tunnel
It may be an enduring, decades-long tunnel, but that light will only get brighter and closer
And that tunnel is not always lonely
There are lanterns along the way to chase away the looming shadows
You never have to do it solo
There are hearts who beat along with us
Hearts who know we can all use saving
Like a hunk of metal forged, you will be beat, battered, and bruised, but you will become something even stronger and more beautiful
It is okay not to be okay
Just breathe, breathe, breathe;
Artist's Statement
Mental illness is one of the most dangerous things in the world, but we know almost nothing about it as a society. Every year, over 45,000 people die from suicide, and more than and most people still think mental health is not as important as other aspects of health. I have personally struggled with many aspects of mental illness, including self-harm and a suicide attempt. I want people to understand how terrifying it is to struggle with these things, especially if it feels like you are alone in it. I want people to understand that stigmas and stereotypes are severe and damaging, but I also want people with mental illness to know that they are not alone, they are never alone. As cheesy as it sounds, it does get better. I hope my poem can help neurotypicals understand exactly how it feels, at least in my experiences. I want my story to inspire those still struggling with mental illness.
In my poem, I use many metaphors. Metaphors can take an unfamiliar experience or feeling and connect it to something that everybody understands. With such a stigmatized topic like mental illness, I think the metaphors I use help connect the reader to my experience and to the scenes I describe within the poem. I also used many instances of alliteration, which help with rhythm, for both reading and performing. However, poetic devices must be matched to the poem that you are writing, which is why I didn't use many other options. I do not like the use of onomatopoeias, as I believe they can detract from the entire poem if they are not performed perfectly. I also prefer not to use anaphora, because although they can help emphasize important ideas, sometimes the rest of the poem can be lost. I prefer to use metaphors over similes, as they leave a bit more to the imagination. A poem is an interactive piece of writing, the reader will have a different experience from the author, and I want to leave as much space as possible for the reader to do that with my writing. If I had more time, I think I would work on making sure every single word of my poem has an important purpose there. I tend to write too much, and I'm afraid some of the words I have included do not need to be there.
In my performance, I attempted to keep the audience on their toes by not sticking to the same cadence, pitch and rhythm. Though my speed changes constantly, I wish I could’ve changed my volume and cadence more to fit the emotion of the stanza. Throughout the poem, I think I gesture too much with my hands. This has been a problem for me for a long time, as I always talk with my hands. I am, however proud of the fact that I did not fidget, and I change my facial expressions to fit the poem. If I had more time, I would just practice over and over again. I had to pause at some points to remember the next line, and I think repetition would help get rid of some of my performance anxiety.
You’re Mental
Trapped, but somehow floating free
Racing forever through a steadily shrinking tunnel
Scrabbling for a handhold,
Split open yet stuck closed.
Palpitating heart, blurry vision, blood stops, there’s a thought collision
Chemicals rush to and fro, commands lose all precision
Bottles, bodies, slapped with labels
Cemented to skin, no matter how hard you tug, all that peels is flesh
Just because they have anxiety, they don’t have to be agitated, apprehensive, always angsty, always anxious
Just because they have depression, they might not seem downhearted, despondent, dissected
Just because they have autism, they aren’t always antisocial, apathetic, angry, amiss
But they are, and always will be human
Inhuman parasites sprinting through the mind, picking fights, starting wars
The sweet taste of hope tickles the tongue before fleeing the onslaught of bitter desolation
Organs twist in chaos
They run through dark streets, hopelessly lost, alone
Begging for a map, a street sign, a guide
A howling, shambling shape races through the towering, murky jungle
Your feet are ensnared in fear, wrapped in thick vines of dread
The semblance stalks closer
You, the prey, stiffen in fear, the hairs on the back of your neck shoot up, adrenaline pumps through your system, your heart working overtime
Facilities with peeling paint and bars over windows
Promises from the mayor for healing hospitals made and broken time and time again
We are supposed to get better here? In a room even sadder than we are?
Rahm leers over tiny, helpless people, laughs at the pleas
With stolen money spilling out of silk-lined pockets
Promises to help but says he has no more to spare
Hides in a luxurious palace erected from the hard-earned cash of the helpless
But there is hope, there is a light at the end of the tunnel
It may be an enduring, decades-long tunnel, but that light will only get brighter and closer
And that tunnel is not always lonely
There are lanterns along the way to chase away the looming shadows
You never have to do it solo
There are hearts who beat along with us
Hearts who know we can all use saving
Like a hunk of metal forged, you will be beat, battered, and bruised, but you will become something even stronger and more beautiful
It is okay not to be okay
Just breathe, breathe, breathe;
 |
| Stop Sigma, Mark Murray (2013) |
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