I am an earnest promisebreaker,
A task attempter but never a task completer.
I tend infinitely towards remembrance,
Complete things just short of finished,
Write essays on good days
Though they never seem to make it to submission trays.
I can contemplate how to do steps one, two, four, five,
As others wonder why I missed the three
I wonder why whenever something goes wrong,
The reason’s always with me.
It’s a curse and a blessing;
One half of forgiving and forgetting’s a breeze.
My memory’s egocentric, an achronoistic solar system
That recuperates my own self like Wolverine.
Every time I heal from crying, it’s instant. Never mind
That it took a galaxy of friendship’s heat to complete,
Out of sight, out of mind, I’m fine, I’m legend,
I’m the Big Bang. Harmless. I’ve a beak,
Not fangs, I’m surviving, I’m Pheonix rising.
There are days of clarity and self-pity.
Days spent wondering why my brain
When it needed to, didn’t develop fully.
Remember that while I’m in a new day,
Each second a moment thrown into the heap of my age,
People have functional, sorted libraries of memories.
I dream of days where my wants aren’t dragged along
By my brain’s chemistry, my mood affected by a lack of dopamine.
Where I can count on myself to behave
And to save that portion of my paycheck
On pills and put it in to relieving other sorts of bills,
Days of spending where I’d not find an empty wallet
Have the will resist those digital tills.
I wish that others could wipe my history clean
I wish habits and hobbies could outlast
My shifting patterns of passion
And that others could wipe my history clean
Like I seem to do, moralless, obscene.
Until then, I’m sorry. It’s not an excuse,
Just my truth. This is my ADHD.
It’s been over half a year since my diagnosis of adult ADHD, and I’m still coming to terms with how skewed my understanding of reality is due to some under developments in my brain that I’ve lived as my truth up until now.
I continue to believe that my diagnosis is not a crutch, and nor is it a curse. I’m trying to work on my executive functioning and remembering how different my perception of reality is simply because my brain is less capable of activating the relevant self-monitoring and working memories that I need. I’ve begun to understand that I am both addicted to video games and possess ADHD, but they’re separate issues that culminate in some very, very unproductive days and a lot of self-resentment.
Most importantly, I’m trying to navigate both the past and the present in interpersonal relationships. I’ve contemplated making vlogs, writing essays on this in order to try to explain myself to others and to help myself cope with my emotions, but in the end, I guess my go-to continues to be poetry.