I want to destroy
I want to
I need to destroy
I always wondered
What lay behind
Why I needed to escape
All I needed
To escape from
Was the need
As fast as
In any which way
I want to destroy myself
I need to
I need to hurt myself
I don’t know
I hate the stuff
The gooey icky stuff that ruins my clothes
I hate the stuff
I want to ask someone
To be my master
I want someone to hurt me
I just want to
And then I wonder
If not messing up my life
If I don’t act on it
If I let it be
Let the need be
Let the pain of not acting
On a need
Will I ever know
And be able to
Deal with that, instead?
I’m in tears here. And I should journal. But this is something I want to write here.
I miss AH.
I’ve actually nothing else to say other than that. I miss AH. And there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it. I don’t know what the right thing even is. Someone asked me if I miss him, or if I miss speaking to him. I don’t miss speaking to him. I don’t miss the sessions. They were a waste of time. They weren’t a waste of time. For they were what the relationship was built on. They were the unifying factor, that bridged the gap of what I’d share. So they weren’t a waste of time. But yet they weren’t anything but hard. Speaking to someone when you can’t speak feels like a waste of time. Continue reading “AH”
I saw this article here written in response to the death of Anthony Bourdain. I loved the description it gave, because it’s just so real, so relatable, and can describe all of life, what living in my world or the world of so many people I love, even without depression, but with anything else, is like.
When you have depression it’s like it snows every day.
Some days it’s only a couple of inches. It’s a pain in the a**, but you still make it to work, the grocery store. Sure, maybe you skip the gym or your friend’s birthday party, but it IS still snowing and who knows how bad it might get tonight. Probably better to just head home. Continue reading “Reblog: What depression feels like”
I was driving the other day. I’m a new driver. For some reason the roads were filled with cars. When I turned onto a new road, there was often another car coming up and I should have backed up. Yet, 4 times in that half hour I was driving, I should’ve backed up, but the other person backed up instead. The driver , who actually had right of way, reversed and maneuvered so that I could pass through first. They didn’t all see me. Or maybe they did – I don’t know. It’s not a ‘normal’ thing to happen. For someone to come along and reverse instead of me, the four times I was meant to do it. Not a normal thing, yet it was awesome that it did happen.
I’m scared to write this post. I’ve been putting off writing it. Since I don’t want to write it. Reason 100. One hundred reasons seems like an awful lot of reasons. I like the number ninety seven or one hundred and one better, yet One Hundred is more significant. I’ve known all along what this reason is about. Simply reaching one hundred reasons is a reason in and of itself. And writing that scares me. For I’ve come to one hundred reasons. Continue reading “Reason One Hundred”
I wish I would have time to rewrite this.
I feel like an alien. Who has been dropped onto planet earth. Without earth’s manual.
‘If you want to be heard talk at pitch 10’. In alien world, known as AW henceforth, we talk at pitch 2. Pitch 10 is deafening. To speak in. To hear all the time.
‘If you want to fit in dress in the current styles, and dress near identical to those in your society’. Huh? Whatever happened to personal style and taste? We’re meant to be clones on PE (planet earth)? In AW we lived with diversity. There was a hodgepodge of styles and colours. People wore leaves sewn together. People wrapped strips of material around themselves. people wore black straight skirts. People wore colourful bohemian clothes. And all were one unit. Continue reading “Alien on Planet Earth”
I just saw this poem attributed to Dee Groberg. It’s exactly what I needed to hear at this moment in time.
Get up. And win that race. Life is one of tripping. Stumbling. Falling. We can choose, every single moment in time, whether to say in the mud, or whether to get up – and win that race. Winning isn’t about reaching a finish line. It’s about continuing on. For just another moment in time.
“Quit! Give up! You’re beaten!” they shout at me, and plead.
“There’s just too much against you now, this time you can’t succeed.” Continue reading “Ninety Nine: Get up and win that race”
Slowly moving closer and closer to the edge
The longer it goes on
Without a way
To calm myself down
To calm myself down
Continue reading “On edge”
This awesome post was written by F on SF
Life is a sand castle built on the beach. At some point the water will come in and your sand castle will crumble and cease to exist, but until then we’re given a shovel and a bucket – it’s implied that we’re supposed to build up our castle so we’ll be happy with what we created by the time it’s washed away because that’s what everyone else is doing. Continue reading “Ninety Eight: Sandcastles and life”