Freak; a poem

They say that I am worthlessWritten by Julie Everson

Having borderline personality disorder all my life, I have always felt somewhat like a freak. Never quite fitting in, like a pear trying to blend in with a bunch of pineapples! This poem is about lying awake, feverish, watching all the scenes of your life flash by and trying to deal with them. To deal with the person I was.

For me writing poetry is my only form of deep release; to get these feelings free from their turmoil and place them neatly and artistically on paper. Then to marvel over them and experience the joy that I’ve created something fresh and new in this redundant world. I can describe how my highs are like the feeling when you’re on a rollercoaster; the exhilaration and sheer high you feel as your about to drop down the first hill. Or sadly the lows where you feel absolutely nothing; just pure numbness and worthless. I am the sound of one hand clapping, I am the deepest recess of the darkest sea. All these things can come out of me!

I feel writing is extremely beneficial in any form. If you have a mental disorder you have a very unique perspective on life and it’s extremely valuable to people. Also it can help others struggling with mental illness when you write your honest feelings and experiences down.

I have a free app on my phone called Writer. This way when lines start coming into my head I can quickly jot them down no matter where I am.

Submit your written story or poem to Trish here who runs this blog and maybe it will even be published!



There was a startling flash in the sky, the day she let her freak flag fly

A loud resounding boom as all the tears she’d ever cried communed

She raised her arms and stretched her hands towards the swirling sky

Then brought them down swiftly

With an echoing shriek

The clouds released their salty downpour

Painting the ground around her in splashes of gold and pink

Gasping and whimpering she looked around

Faces stared back in shocked disbelief

She finally accepted that the stares never knew

The human tragedy she’d witnessed

The moments her whole heart was consumed

Grievous fights to release rage

Throwing people like rag dolls and yes her time came

She was thrown down an endless well

Of human struggles and tales to tell

Like homeless men whose life mission was that once a month

when a cheque brought their crack habit kicking

She sat under the bridge and smoked it with him

His dirty, scabbed hands passed her the can

“Make me clean, make me clean”

She whispers, “I can’t”

She lay sick in sweat

Watching vivid memories, like herself getting beat to the rhythm of death’s dubstep

Unable to sleep but just to watch

Watch as the nurses strapped her down real tight

Flinching as the restraints sucked away her will to fight

Watch as she ran away, assaulting an officer to not be apprehended that day

She watches as she sat by a couch, razor and blood is everywhere, all over herself

“I wanna wake up…..”

“You are awake”, she tells herself

A little girl in so much pain, unable to understand why she was not the same

They surrounded the one that was different and dove in ripping

Grinning sharks, teeth razor sharp

Her unraveling flesh delivered no resistance

She watches and listens as the thunder rumbles in the distance

No, these faces will never understand the depth;

the strength it takes your body to withstand

Blow after crushing blow

They discuss their trips and their carnival cruises, as she sits behind them feeling empty and useless

No more!

Here is her freak flag

She’s a survivor of her very soul’s molestation.

She doesn’t need to be them, she can never be them

Because she can’t undo

The scenes of her life are all a freak show for you

Her heart pounds as she stands

Shaking the rain out of her hair like fine gold sand

She takes a deep breath and reminds herself that she can

She will be this person she desires to be

She is going to show you all what’s inside of me


Featured Image: ashley rose


JulieJulie Everson enjoys writing, reading, scrabble and public speaking. She loves music and her favourite band is The Tragically Hip. She loves cooking and wishes she had a dishwasher. She is beginning her journey of sharing her story of her struggle with a personality disorder. She hopes to continue speaking and being an inspiration to people.

To check out all of Julie’s guest posts on MHT, click here.

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  • Cat

    Thank you. My head screams at me. You translate those screams into words for me.

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