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Stuck

It’s always when I most need to talk to people
When I most need human contact
That my words fail me

It’s like when my anxiety won’t let me go outside
I can get up and get ready and do anything I want
As long as I’m not doing it to go outside
And as soon as I start trying to leave my body stops responding
I can’t move
I can barely breathe
It’s like my whole being is screaming to not move
So all I can do is stay inside
Because as soon as I stop trying to leave my body relaxes
And I can take back control

Should I just accept that I can’t talk to anyone?
But I need to not be alone
I don’t know what to do
I don’t know how to talk about it
So I just run out of things to say

“They don’t want to talk to you anyway,
you’re just wasting their time.”

They don’t waste my time
There’s no way I’m the only compassionate idiot out there

“No of course you’re not special,
People care about others,
Their best friends,
Their family,
Their lovers.
They don’t care about you.
They barely think about you.”

Well I know that’s not true
I have at least two friends who are about as compassionate as me

“But they already have other problems to worry about.
They can’t worry about you,
You won’t even tell them what’s wrong.”

How can I?
like you said they already have their own problems
I don’t want to add to that

“So you admit it then,
How little you matter.”

I’ve rarely not admitted it
And even when I didn’t
It was only because my self-esteem was getting dangerously low
But if I don’t matter
Then neither do you

“Yet you still listen to me,
Because even I matter more than you do.”

No
That’s not true
I can ignore you
Sometimes I barely hear you
You’re just a poison in my mind
I don’t have to listen to you

“But can you prove me wrong?”

I…
Yes
Yes I can
I’m not alone
I’ll show you

“We’ll see how it goes…
Maybe next time you won’t be so sure.”

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Posted by on 23 July 2018 in The Devil on my Shoulder

 

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Alone

I’m fucking tired
It hurts…

“What hurts?”

Everything…

“Why?”

I don’t know
I wish I did
Maybe I could make it stop

“Maybe this is all your fault,
Maybe this is why they leave,
You’re too bothersome.
So you end up alone.”

Maybe
But I know I’m not alone
I need to keep fighting
My friends need my help
I can still be useful

“Why can’t your friends help you?”

They can
Sometimes
But right now they have problems of their own
So I have to deal with this on my own
It’s ok really

“‘Cause you know if you put yourself first they’ll leave.”
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Snippets of Peace

When I’m in a bad place I’ll take any sensory overload I can control. I’ll listen to music loud enough to block out the outside and most of my thoughts. I’ll dive into a film or an episode.

It was raining tonight. As I was waiting for the train I stood outside the station. The train that would take me away from my home and to the house I was trying to escape. I just stood outside, face up towards the rain. It wasn’t a storm, it barely rains hard here, it’s usually no more than a long drizzle but this was a little stronger. I stood in the darkness, cars and people would pass and look at me. Did they think I was high or crazy or suicidal? Perhaps a combination of those. I pushed them away from my mind, I knew they wouldn’t recognise me even if they saw me again. One thing I’ve learned is that people don’t care about those they don’t know, most people forget the faces they see instantly.

I was standing face up, eyes closed in the rain feeling it crash softly against my skin. It felt like a thousand small pokes, each one confirming the same thing: I was still alive. It wasn’t invasive or violent, it was kind of just… there. And it felt good after having felt untouchable for so long. It was a small moment of peace in the middle of all this turmoil. A space where I could breathe without feeling crushed by whatever the world throws at me. I could feel the solid ground at my feet. For a few seconds at a time I felt completely free and I didn’t care who stared, who pushed me down, who made me feel trapped, unwanted, useless, or invisible. I was myself. And I was free.

 
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Posted by on 1 October 2017 in Banzaï

 

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Waiting Days

Some days are better days, some days are worse days. This has been going on for about a month now, it’s never been this long or this bad. But there are different days and not every day is necessarily bad; there can be better days, or good moments even during the bad days. I’ve cried but I’ve smiled and laughed too and that’s part of what makes this bearable. Some days are roller-coasters where I can be happy in one instant and devastated in the next. One thing people might not know though is that some days are just waiting days.

Some days you wake up and you know you’re not going to do anything, sometimes out of a lack of will or motivation, but also sometimes out of choice. Sometimes you just don’t know what to do so you just focus on staying quiet and calm even if that means lying in bed all day. Or you could want to give people a rest, you could be feeling like you’re bothering the world with this and you don’t want to bother… so you waste a day, because you feel like the world is better off without you. It could also be that you don’t or no longer know who to turn to, so instead of burdening or frightening someone you’d rather contain it so at least you’re the only person it hurts. Or at least you hope so, because you can never know how other people are feeling. For me I guess the reason is a bit of everything. So I just move around, usually with music or watching a series to distract me from the deeper thoughts because I’d rather not hear them right now.

It’s sad, I think, how feelings other than “like” or “don’t like” quickly become taboo. How people are afraid of love or depression. Those are things rarely talked about in real life, things kept hushed because strong feelings scare people away. We’ve come to a point where emotion is weakness. When my friends see me mentally unwell most of them just ignore me, are they embarrassed? Are they afraid I’ll drag them down where I am? Or are they just afraid I might break if they touched me? They must know that isolation is a bad thing for me if I’m depressed but they isolate me anyway. No-one prepares you for this: they don’t prepare you for depression and they don’t prepare you for handling people or friends who could be depressed. Maybe something could be done, at school maybe, to talk about feelings instead of making children suppress them. I don’t know.

I’ve thought about dying. And yeah I know that’s not something you’re supposed to say but it’s true. I’ve never completely wanted to die, because I know to some extent what that could do to certain people. So I’ll stay alive to protect them. And I keep telling myself that it’ll get better, it has to, I can’t live like this forever and besides it always gets better. I try to hold on to that hope as much as I can. And I’m trying to be less harsh on myself, the depression is doing more than enough about that. I haven’t tried dying, and I’m hesitant to add “yet” at the end of that phrase, I can’t know what will happen, I can only hope I’ll stay strong enough for it to never happen. I don’t want to die. But sometimes it can be hard to want to live too. It tears me apart, mainly at night, it reminds me of all the times I’ve been rejected, all the bad things said about me, how people must feel about me, all the mistakes I’ve made and I feel like the world would be better off without me and it hurts. It hurts so much. I try to fight it, find counter-examples, but mostly I just try to make it stop because at the time I know that I can’t find enough examples to win. And then I think of what would happen if I died, and I see it happening to the people I love, the tearing apart, and I think “I can endure this for them”, because I don’t want them to feel this pain, ever.

People can be quick to tell you what’s wrong, to tell you off for some mistake you made or yell at you because they misunderstood your actions, people are better at accusing and blaming and insulting than telling others they love them. So it can be hard, when no-one tells you they love you and you have all these voices in your head, and outside of it, telling you what’s wrong with you. People take love for granted, but sometimes we need to hear that we are loved. If someone told me that, I might feel a little better, it could help fight all the bad things. But no-one tells me, because those who love me just take it for granted, they figure I don’t need reminding, but I can feel myself slipping and I’m desperately trying to hold on to anything, and everyone seems to be pulling away. If I just let go now, who would catch me in my fall?

 
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Posted by on 17 February 2017 in Banzaï

 

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