we’ll all be lonely tonight & lonely tomorrow…

crying in the middle of the night is back.

dark rooms

dark thoughts

indiscernible tears.
i feel hollow

&

fractured.
multiple precarious cracks 

all threatening to give way

and i’m not gentle 

i can’t be trusted with my crumbling self 

i’m likely to stick my fingers in the gaps 

and

pull my roof down.
the safest option is 2am tears. 

just lie very still in a dark room

and

cry 

you slip into the fog….

the arrival of sunday brought with it doom.
a hopeless kind of sadness that consumes all the light.
it’s a feeling that overwhelms
and
sends me into an emotional spiral.

everything is pointless
it is impossible to believe that this will pass.
i simply can’t cope.

my escape is a beautiful opiate fog
tramadol supplemented with trazadone & valium.
a cocktail guaranteed to keep me sealed within soft bubble.
the outside world unable to harm me
reality ceases to exist.

i float from hour to hour
content to be numb.

i can feel the distance as you breathe…

i’m a little bit lost
and
a lot broken
but you could patch me back together
i don’t mean in any permanent sense
that’s up to me

you could fix me today

and watch your life slide out of view…

i’m bogged down in the swap of depression
again.

i don’t why it always creeps back. i do the work, i make progress. i start to think i am moving forward and then before i know it i am entrenched in this misery.

life becomes too much. every single task is overwhelming.
Washing, dressing, opening the post, doing the dishes. all impossible.

i can’t even begin to tackle this cluster of simple, mundane jobs. i feel worthless. i am ashamed to admit my paralysis. i can’t ask for help because i can’t bear for anyone to know.

each inconsequential decision becomes a mammoth undertaking. i can debate with myself for hours about whether to sit in the living room or my bedroom. i’m crippled by the fear of getting it wrong, of making it worse.

and the sorrow. the stagnating sadness, which i can’t drag myself out of.

the voice in my head constantly berating me. it tells me what a failure i am. it demands that i cut. screams orders to rip myself apart.

i can’t stand it.

i drug myself with handfuls of pills. opiates to blur reality, sedatives to shut me down. anything to escape the drone in my head.
But
there is no escape. there is always another day. the blood will never flow unchallenged.
it’s never enough.
so,i wait.
for the voice to get quieter
my mood to become unstuck
and
i pray
there won’t be a next time.

a house is not a home…

i haven’t written a some time.
mostly because i haven’t had anything to say about
the situation i find myself in.

i’m not sure if i can be any more lucid now
but
it feels time to try.

my niece is gone.
it is even harder than i anticipated
my life feels incerdibly empty without her
i
feel
empty

in the big picture
she’s still my reason
but
day to day
my life has no meaning

the way i miss my brother
has taken by surprise.
i knew i’d miss him
but
i didn’t realise that i’d feel i had a missing part
we’ve always been a foursome
two girls
two boys
and, now one of is gone
the eldest piece of our puzzle
is
lost.

it feels wrong

so, i exist between skype calls,
live for their half hour duration
quietly die when she kisses the screen
goodbye

i’m not going to recite the details of my daily decline
it’s tawdry
boring
and
pitiful

it just felt time to
write
something.

it’s alright ma, i’m only bleeding…..

i slept relatively well last night

woke up early in pain

i have my period

i rarely have periods

but

i find them very hard to cope with.

i miscarried 12 years ago

just writing that is frightening

how can it be that long ?

and

yet

bad cramps

still feel like the beginnings of that awful experience

i can’t stop the memories

i bleed heavily

which

also serves

as a painful reminder

i should be able to manage this by now

but

i struggle

 

so, i got up

failed to wash

or

dress

made some dry toast

and

considered my options

i could allow the sadness to drown me

cry

& feel like dying

or

i could cut.

 

5 hours later

i am still cutting

it has been ridiculously easy today

much more so than usual

and

 it’s hard to stop

my skin is like butter

the blade just slips through

quicker

and smoother

than it should

the pain hasn’t troubled me

shiny globes of fat slip out

as i remove my blade

the blood is mesmerizing

hot tracks

flowing into already coagulating pools

tiny red fountains

rise

and fall

spraying patterns on my clothes

 

there is no feeling

like your own blood

flooding over your skin

the immense calm

it brings

is intoxicating

 

i’ve written all this before

or words to this effect

it never ends

certainly not today

i have the next stage mapped out

i must execute those plans

then, perhaps

 

i can rest

when your heart’s on fire, smoke gets in your eyes….

the bloom is off the rose.

 i am becoming less interesting

 desirable

 special.

 you no longer need me.

 i wish i had learnt that trick first

 

 perhaps i could bear not having you

 if i didn’t have to face your growing indifference

 

 i suspect that your face no longer brightens

 when

 i send your happy friday.

 if you dreamt (i still don’t believe you don’t),

 it wouldn’t be about me.

you don’t hope to find me standing outside sainsbury’s

 the twinge when you order a cocktail is gone

 

 i wish i could follow your lead 

 stop searching for your face

 and

 buying  little things i know you’ll like

 

 i want to cease wanting you quite so much

 i really need it to stop hurting

 i’d love to keep you

but

 i don’t think you’re the type to be kept.

rainy days and SUNDAYS always bring me down…..

 

i have never liked sundays.

 

they have always held a certain gloom for me.

 

the advent of my depression has had made them heavier,darker,bleaker.

 

sundays magnify how much i have screwed up my life,

 

whilst most people are preparing for the beginning of the working week

 

i am bracing myself for another week of grey nothingness.

 

i have no clothes to iron,

 

no emails to read,

 

no reason to get to bed early.

 

i have no career.

 

i am fit for nothing.

 

sunday brings it all home.

 

sundays are lazy, cuddly, romantic days.

 

couples lie in

 

have delicious,unrushed morning sex

 

or take cosy walks together

 

buy newspapers to read over sloppy brunches.

 

from this too i am excluded.

 

i spend my sundays alone,

 

feeling lonelier than any other day of the week

 

no one chance of passion or companionship

 

because

 

no one falls in love with crazy

 

sunday underlines this fact.

 

let’s not forget, for else sundays are

 

perhaps their most painful incarnation

 

sundays are the end of the weekend

 

the are the ultimate school night

 

parents must make sure homework is completed

 

uniforms are assembled & ready

 

bags packed

 

lunches prepared

 

children bathed.

 

sunday evening holds the familiar bed time debate

 

it is a domestic day

 

a day that holds no routine for me

 

no logistics organise

 

no rules to enforce

 

to children to kiss goodnight.

 

　

 

sundays remind me of all that i don’t have

 

my mistakes

 

and

 

misfortune

 

vividly played out in all the rituals i do not have to perform.

 

 

i have never liked sundays.

my fever burns me deeper than you’ll ever know

it is ok to feel my emotions.
i’m told.
learn to deal with the feelings as they come.
they’re just feelings.
they can’t hurt me.

except, i don’t know what that means

and they do hurt me.

do normal people feel what i feel and cope ?
or do i experience something different.
it doesn’t seem possible to just sith with these emotions and still be ok.

how do i tell myself i am ok ?
i feel like i am drowning.
when the sandness is so overwhelming that my life is meaningless.
all i can see are days and weeks of sinking further under the tide.

i can stay awake all night
tortured by a sadness tthat is bigger than me

or

i can reach for that shiny blade
and rip it out
let my tears run red.

i want to understand these healthy coping mechanisms
but all i know is blood.