Wow! I love this. Will be back soon to go into more detail, promise! :)

I love it.
Beautifully written.

For some reason I feel like this is such a heartwarming piece, one that is obviously personal and one that took the heart by the neck for it to surrender its emotions.

First I'd like to comment about the structure and voice. I like the angle of the poem, how the speaker is someone the subject (mentally illed) is close to. I didn't only receive the experience and translation of qualia or subjective emotions from the speaker but I was more inclined to empathize with both of them. The diseased and the loved on. I like the structure of this one as it told a linear-type of story. A story that is constant and relatable. How the subject needed reminders, sticky notes that carries her own familiar writing to know it's the "truth" - and how emotional and sad this is. To trust only your handwriting because you don't know if you can trust others; to depend only on yourself in this way is almost heartbreaking. And I haven't even gone to the story about the neighbors and how the subject reflects about the noise and feels sympathy (possibly because of the neighbors fighting, or troubles, problems, etc). And now the saddest yet subtle part about the subject, the little companions such as the folding tables, cushions, the company of the dripping water. As someone with a mental illness, I understand the loneliness and perspective so much.

But what kills is this stanza:

I'm sorry that I can do nothing,
that you can't fully live your life.
That you can't be the college student
who wanted to teach before psychology
whispered illness and your mother
attempted to hide it.

^ so much has been said. The empathy, the sacrifice, the forgiving, the lost dreams and the shame.

Masterfully written from the heart!

I read your poetry often and it's all very lovely... but there are times when you write a true gem that
just speaks to me, that grabs ahold of my shoulders and shakes me...and this is definitely one of them! It
has so much heart, empathy, sadness, hope... it has it all.

From what you said in your bottom note, this is about/inspired by your Aunt who has Schizophrenia. A mental illness
that affects a person by causing extreme paranoia and/or developing multiple personalities. I can't even imagine
the kind of everyday pain she must go through... I just can't. Not being able to control yourself and not even
being able to know exactly who you are at all times would be so difficult. I watched a youtube video that was
a documentary on Schizophrenia a couple years ago. It was in three or four different parts, but this woman's friend
was filmed her changing and talking, her voice would change with each personality, she had I think seven different personalities...each one covered up something
traumatic that happened to her in her life. It was all very sad because some even caused her to harm herself.
I'm rambling on, I'm so sorry!

In the beginning, you say she needs reminders...good reminders. Not unpleasant thoughts that keep her constantly
thinking negatively and that can stir an episode. I love the use of the volcanic ash!

She needs a voice to help bring her out of the darkness before she is sucked in, she needs something permanent
that cannot be washed away.

Noises come at her in every direction and causes her confusion. She watches Sunday mass on television because
she won't go to the actual service due to the fear of causing a scene and embarressing herself/family members. That
breaks my heart... but it also makes me greatful for television so she can still worship and feel like she is a
part even if it is from home. She, also, feels sorry for the neighbors because with her illness, she can't control
her outbursts, so sometimes it may happen at all hours of the night, and we all know that apartment complexes have
very thin walls.

She tries to keep herself busy by rearranging simple furniture multiple times. Also ignoring the tap water, maybe
because she is paranoid what is in the tap water so she would prefer bottled water. The imagery of the paranoia
is stepped up even more with the addition of the hand towels as curtains.

You wish so bad that there was something, anything you could do to help. Anything to just make her life a little
easier. She had dreams that were put aside when she was diagnosed. Her mother just tried to hide it from others,
deny it even. Which is really sad... that someone would be so caught up in appearances, afraid of being known as
"crazy" instead of worrying about the health of their own child.

You encourage her, let it be known that she isn't alone, that you will be there for her as long as she allows. You
may not be able to change her situation, but you can be a nice distraction. Someone to confide in, to go out with,
someone to love. Very touching. I like the 'heating vents instead of open windows' ..I think you mean that you
can be the warmth, a hug, a shoulder to cry on, etc... that you won't leave her out in the cold.

You pray that she continues to write her notes on the refrigerator, inspiring quotes, memories, etc... even if
it's completely full, so that when one day her illness tries to take over, that she has these reminders to show
her that her real self is inside of her, the only one that matters.

Overall, I absolutely loved this poem... it's a dedication of hope to your Aunt as well as a mental illness
awareness poem that should be spread around to help those in need know they aren't alone. I agree we hear about
Cancer, Diabetes, Fibromoyalgia, HIV, etc. but we hardly ever hear about any form of mental illness. It isn't a burden to
have any kind of illness, it's a part of life.. people suffer daily in every way, shape and form. No one person is
the same, so why shouldn't all illnesses be broadcasted? Okay, I'm rambling again. Loved this poem, hope my
comment didn't completely bore you. I'm so glad that I nominated this, it's an honor to share the front page
with you! <3