Blog by Dana Latisha Young
A.K.A Day Love
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How are you creative?
– I do these things (when I can)
Poem by Dana Young
I feel like I don’t have much value
Or purpose to you.
Except as your legs
To walk all over the house and outside,
Endlessly running errands, getting
Whatever you want and need,
An ear to hear all of your thoughts
Spoken aloud,
A voice, only when you don’t want
To talk to certain people or
Make business calls so you’d
Rather I speak for you.
Hands to grab whatever you want
That’s within your reach but you’d
Rather call me from far away to
Bring it to you.
Eyes to see ahead into the future
Or to somehow see what you want
Before you ask.
And a nose to smell whatever meal
You want me to cook or buy.
A heart to be broken by your cruel words
And actions, then restored,
Only to be broken again.
Lungs to breathe in your toxic mindset
And internalize it until it becomes
A part of mine.
My body and my time is not my own.
Just a combination of parts
to be used at your will.
Whenever you want something done,
No matter if I am asleep or awake.
Exhausted or in pain.
I feel like I don’t have much value
Or purpose to you.
And every day you prove it.
What part of your routine do you always try to skip if you can?
As part of my Autism, I don’t usually skip my routine, unless I don’t have a choice. A task or 2 may be added into it but interruptions feel monumental and not as easy to adjust.
Poem by Dana L. Young
Will I ever wake up and find
That things are better this time?
That you aren’t angry
And I’m not misunderstood?
Will it be a day that you actually
Feel good?
A day where anger isn’t your
First reaction
To every situation.
And lashing out verbally
On every occasion.
Is that just a dream that
In reality
Doesn’t truly exist for me?
I wonder because no matter
What I do to help you
Feel better.
You reject it and end up
Ruining a good day.
But I always forgive you,
Anyway…
So when I wake up tomorrow
Will that be a day of sorrow?
Or will it be the very first day
That you wake and things are okay?
Dana Young (c) October 1st, 2025
– Living with my parent with Borderline Personality Disorder…-
Poem by Dana L. Young
Wedged securely in a place
That I don’t remember agreeing
To enter.
Unable to wiggle enough to remove
My limbs or my mind
From being trapped.
Stuck in a pattern of self-doubt
And obligations
And I don’t remember when it started
Nor is there a map to follow
To get back to the safety of home.
A stranger in a foreign land
That feels more familiar each day.
Stuck in a cycle of waking, sleeping
And nothing in between.
No idea why I am here,
In these moments, in these mindsets,
In these snares and traps,
But I wonder…
Is freedom close?
By Dana Young
Life’s been a journey so far
That I didn’t anticipate.
The twists and turns,
Inner tears and outward joy.
The laughter or sorrow.
And each day bringing gifts
That I appreciate
Or problems that I can’t fix.
It’s a journey that keeps going
On a very long, twisted road
With many turns and obstacles.
But it’s been a joy, a mystery
And interesting
Along the way…
So far.
Poem by Dana Young
(Audio of this poem is at the end of the the poem. If you want, you can play it and read along)
To be honest I’m not where I want to be. Yet not where I used to be. It’s all new to me. I’m a shell of my former shell. I’m feeling destroyed. Trapped in mental hell.
The mental jail I’m in has no escape. I’ve sealed my fate with past mistakes. With no way to leave my mind and find the right direction. With fear I approach the steps. Not yet ready to climb from fear of the unknown and known and I feel like I’m pressed for time.
Left for dead. But walking. A zombie with no desire for brains. Just a clear mind and a whole heart. A new day and a fresh start.
A new me that’s not restricted that healed from wounds that are self inflicted.
Guilt and pain, approval addiction, disorders and everything that plagued me and haunts me still
Following me endlessly, desperate to feel… something.
Other than. This numbing nothing
Other than this crushing something
Other than this nowhere setting
Other than my mind forgetting
How to heal and how to feel.
How to separate the false and real.
To bring to life what died and awaken the dormant.
To rid me of these demons that continue to torment.
That strip away layers at a time in an effort to reach and keep my mind
To make me think I’m doing fine I’m intentionally blind
Not wanting to experience the real feelings that I submerged in the ocean of tears that I shed for years as I bled
Blue blood for the sorrow has stolen the red.
I scream for the peace that I seek but have yet to release.
I have yet to speak life.
I walk in my sleep.
Slumber so deep that It seems even God can’t reach…
Me.
What’s your favorite game (card, board, video, etc.)? Why?
I have always loved Scrabble. From the time that I was 4 years old, I have always loved reading, writing, spelling, learning new words and challenges. Scrabble is the perfect outlet for all of those things I loved. It’s the perfect game for me that combines everything I love into one game.
