Poem: Drowning Through Life.

My Prison Soul (1)

 

Drowning Through Life

 

That place between life and death,
That void…
That’s where you’ll find me;
Swimming around in an ocean of emotions
Too immense for the human soul to witness,
Or the human body to contain.
No breaths of relief can be taken here.
I choke on the fluidity of people’s inclination to care,
To stay there,
To see my worth;
I drown in the words unspoken,
Unheard,
The lack of sentiment, the lack of words.
I gulp down indifference
And gargle blame,
Lost in this sea where nobody recalls my name.
Even the sharks that usually circle at the scent of blood
Care little to devour me –
Nowhere to be seen;
Though I bleed profusely from my wounds,
I bleed not red but emerald green…
The colour of envy –
Envious of those who get to live on solid ground
And know not the horror of drowning through life;
Jealousy of those who matter to someone,
Whose cries can be heard and are satisfied
By a love, an interest, a connection,
The warmth of affection –
Not left to the ravaging currents of these ice-cold depths,
Forever a
lone…
My blood is water,
Water, my blood –
My broken heart feeding salt to the sea
Which then in turn reminds me of how those tears came to be.
Can anyone see me here, sinking under the waves?
Am I worthy of being saved?
You’ll see my face in a crowd
But I am not there –
My mind is elsewhere,
In that far-off land – unable to live, not ready to die,
With no-one to help me or to bid me goodbye.
Look for me in between these worlds,
Find my soul;
Please see me
And return me to myself,
Or else
I fear
These days will be my last.

 

 

 

Poem: Is This Hell?

 

Am I dead?
Have I departed this life already?
And rather than a ghost that haunts,
I myself am haunted…
Haunted by all I’ve lost, who I was, all who left.
Have I died, or is that yet to come
In some swift act of self-inflicted violence…?
Is this how I die… alone, unloved and in silence?
Can you see me, or see right through me?
Do these words even exist?
If I am dead, then I know for certain I am not missed.
Nobody noticed I wasn’t there.
Nobody cares.
They never would.
Can a ghost feel pain in their chest,
And a never-ending sense of unrest?
Is this Hell, or purgatory?
Am I yet to discover my destination?
Where do broken souls go?
The ones who never found peace in life
And chose death in its place….
Do we linger like this in time and space?
Nowhere to go and can’t move on…
Am I really dead and gone?
Is this all a dream?
Some altered state of reality from which I cannot awaken…
How else could so much have been taken
From my life?
Savagely cut from me with the bluntest of knives.
The Faceless People watching by as my world burns to dust.
Broken heart, broken trust.
They came to watch the show,
Lining up to see me go –
No goodbyes,
Only quiet disdain
For the girl who went insane
From too much trauma and pain…
Their backs were the last thing these haunted eyes would see.
If I am dead, then why can’t I be free?
Free to journey through the stars;
Reunited with loved ones, wherever they are…
This isn’t where I’m meant to be –
Bound to a world where no-one sees me.
If this indeed is purgatory, then Lord let me rise
To the sky and be by their side.
If that’s a place I do not belong,
Then have mercy on me, cast me into Hell… let me drop,
And let this ‘life’ be over….. please make it stop.

 

 

 

The Unfairness Of Life.

*Swearing near the end*

 

 

I have just realised why nobody talks to me anymore. For so long I’ve wondered why…. what I could possibly have done to them all. I thought of every reason – from them having their own stuff to think about, to not knowing what to say to someone grieving and suicidal. But it’s finally hit me…

 

They don’t talk to me and don’t want to be my friends because I blog. Because I’ve blogged about what I went through with my former best friend. They think if we were friends and they fell out with me I would blog about them too.

 

I can totally understand this thinking as well. And I don’t blame them for it. I can see how it’s my fault that I’m alone now. And I feel I deserve to be alone. That being said, I am not to blame for everything. As much as this goes against what I’m saying, I do blame my former best friend… for all of it. She may have decided to abandon me for a blog I wrote last year. That may be where she’s pinning the blame. But we had issues before that blog. She was neglecting me before that. I was ill and paranoid and grieving, and dealing with all that alone. The initial blog that caused issues with us was not about her. It was about paranoia and how it manifests as jealousy and possessiveness rather than the insecurity and fear it is. I was talking about self-fulfilling prophecies. I was right to talk about that as it’s exactly what happened. What happened after that was a misunderstanding. I felt rejected by her and like a burden to her. So I gave her the space it sounded like she wanted. But that’s not how she took it. She thought I asked for space. So she was waiting for me to approach her again. I couldn’t do that. I’d been rejected. I couldn’t put myself out there yet again. I was locked within myself. I did the best I could at the time and used my blog to break out of the bubble and communicate. Perhaps my pain and desperation stopped me wording it right. I know a lot was misinterpreted by her. But that’s the blog that offended her and she’s used as a scapegoat to ditch me.

 

But that blog was not the cause. It was the effect. Her abandoning me was the cause. The pain was the effect – and I used my blog to express my pain. I was also using it to fight for our friendship, though it clearly wasn’t received that way. I could’ve done what she was doing to me and stayed quiet…. never spoken again….. let apathy and indifference win the day. But because I bloody cared…. cared too much…. felt too much pain at losing her…. I had to say something. I had to get her to talk to me, as I couldn’t talk to her. It just went horrifically wrong, which led to her attacking and blaming me for everything. That’s what killed our friendship. That, plus snubbing me after I extended an olive branch at Christmas. And then blocking me etc. But I reckon I’m conveniently getting the blame, for blogging. I blogged because I was in pain and had nobody to turn to.

 

But now I think blogging my truth has cost me everyone else. And I’m angry with my former friend for that. Because had she treated me well, understood my illness and intentions, communicated with me properly and not run away and abandoned me at my lowest, I’d not feel so desperate that the only way to stay alive is to blog and let it all out. But nobody wants to know me now, as they think they’ll be the next topic for my blog. Well yeah…. as things stand at this moment in time I’m beyond being able to cope, and if they are like everyone else and refuse to treat me with the love, care, consistency and respect I need, and intend to hurt me then yes, they would probably end up being blogged about. But if they were decent people and intended to treat me well, then that’s a different story altogether.

 

 

What it’s demonstrating to me, yet again, is that some of us are destined for a life of pain, betrayal and abandonment. Life and the people in it will not let us move on.

 

People have endlessly hurt, betrayed and abandoned me…. unfortunately not everyone can bounce back from that. So I talk about the pain I’m in, and people don’t want to be there to prove I didn’t deserve to be treated that way. Because they think they’ll end up being talked about too.

 

It reminds me of how guys don’t want to be with a virgin. So you never get to change the fact you’re a virgin, because nobody ever gives you the chance to be anything other than one. So nobody will ever want to be with you because of the inexperience … and it never ends.

 

Just like I used to be thought of as ‘boring’. But nobody ever gave me a chance to prove I wasn’t. They never wanted to be my friend, spend time with me and see I wasn’t as quiet as I seemed, and I knew how to have fun. They chose to judge me on the opinions of others.

 

And the biggest of them all – when you are mentally ill and deteriorating, people want nothing to do with you. They only want to be around positive energy and those who are recovering.  It’s been the most sickening lesson of all in the past year or two…. as I have become more ill, people have talked to me less.

 

They don’t want to be around people who are depressed…. I heard as much on my therapy course two years ago – it was the thing that caused me to walk out the room until the break. Being mentally ill is tough enough without feeling people won’t want to be around you if you show how you feel.

 

I’ve spent years not showing my reality. Hiding my illness and depression behind a smile and a mask. I’d probably fit the profile of someone ‘high-functioning’. Not so much nowadays. Now my meltdowns are more public. I’m spiralling out of control and struggle to do life like before. I can’t pretend to be okay anymore. And people aren’t okay with that.

 

Even my best friend of about 13 years didn’t like my reality when she saw it. Yes I wore the mask for her too…. afraid I’d be alone if the reality of how I felt was known. I wasn’t being deliberately two-faced though. I knew no other way. I’m the person who got up after a BCG injection, gave a smile and said ‘thank you very much’. I’ve always wanted to be polite and to not make people feel uncomfortable. I don’t want to worry people or upset them, or bring them down. I’ve always felt like a burden. The fear of disappointing people or putting them out is the only thing that’s stopped me putting myself in hospital. The three times I’ve needed treatment were horrible for me emotionally. I felt so ashamed and guilty. But since the last two times – two years ago nearly – I’ve never really improved mentally. I have however become better at hiding things to some extent… usually until the point I explode. I’ve become more volatile…. unpredictable… unstable in my behaviour – because I’m trying to pretend to be better than I am, because I know nobody cares how I really am… but it’s harder to do now, so I very quickly slip into my ‘episodes’.

 

But it’s something I have noticed before – if you post about achievements despite your illness, or you talk about progress, people like it and encourage you. But if you say you’re not doing so well they give you a wide berth. Well they do with me for some reason. I notice they don’t with many other people. That’s why I think it’s personal against me specifically … being ignored is seriously increasing my paranoia… which makes me more ill… which makes people stay away even more. It’s a vicious circle.

 

We were taught about vicious circles in therapy, and about breaking them. The only way I can break my vicious circle is to miraculously not be mentally ill anymore! To not be traumatised! To pretend to be okay! I cannot and should not have to do this. People should care. And even if I did pretend to be okay now, it’s too late – these people will never be my friends. They’ve seen too much of me falling apart. The people in my life now will not want to know me anymore. It’s ruined. For good.

 

So I’m going to have to leave them all behind. I don’t see any of them begging me to stay in their lives. I won’t be missed. I’m alone anyway, so it won’t make any difference to me. I’ve been talking into a void for the last few months, with nobody noticing or replying to me, so I’ll keep talking to myself, like every sane and rational person does!

 

I don’t think any of these people I considered to be my friends will ever understand just how embarrassing and humiliating it has been to have such a public breakdown… to not be able to contain it…. to lose control of it and for it all to unravel and get worse and worse, and no matter what you say or do you cannot make it better again…. they don’t know what it’s like to feel like they’re all standing there watching me drown, and they’re not even considering reaching out a hand to save me. I think they’re willing me to drown. Alone. And that’s what I will do now.

 

I have a choice… I can choose these people, who don’t talk to me and don’t appear to care about me as a friend, or I can choose blogging. They’ve made my decision easier. I choose blogging. It may have caused a fuck-load of damage, but given there’s nothing left now – I’m so far down this path now I might as well keep going, these people aren’t here for me, the damage is done, I can never imagine liking myself again, let alone them liking me again, and the only one that’s ever been there for me, besides my friend who killed herself three months ago, is this damn blog. I choose the fucking blog.

 

Maybe one day my life will start afresh… with people who haven’t seen what a total freak I am…. people who care…. people who include me….. people who never leave me feeling I might as well be dead….. but then pigs might fly! I don’t see that happening. I don’t see anything other than blackness, screaming, pain and death. Nothing can undo these past few months. I can’t forget what I’ve experienced with people. And they won’t forget what they’ve witnessed in me. So there’s no hope of recovering anything that’s come before. The only hope I have, which I honestly can’t see at this point, is to build myself up as a new person, with new relationships. But this illness will always be a part of me. I fear I will never survive in this ‘social’ world as long as I have this illness. The pain is too much to bear. And I will never rid myself of the memories and scars of the past couple of years. You cannot escape the past. And my past will be the death of me.

 

 

 

 

Ripped Away.

*Suicide trigger*

 

 

 

This is one of the lowest points of my life. There have been many ups and downs, which so far I’ve managed to negotiate and struggle through. It’s different this time.

 

I’ve pulled myself out of dark places in the past… but I always had a reason to. I always had someone to help me… I’m talking about people outside of the family. When people hurt me or ditched me in the past, I always had someone who really seemed to have my back.  But now I don’t. I’ve had two major losses this year. Losing my best friend for God knows what reason – as far as I can tell, it’s because of my mental illness. And the other rock of mine, taking her life. I knew them both a couple of years off half my life. Now there’s nothing. I’m invisible. I don’t exist. I’ve lost those who I thought cared about me. I’ve lost my Godchildren. I’ve lost who I was.

 

I have no purpose. I have no reason to live. I have nothing to pull me through. When I lost my group of ‘friends’ in 2012, I still had my best friend. Now I’ve lost her, and I don’t understand why…. and I have nobody to help me with that. Liv’s gone.

 

I’m finding that hard to deal with today. The reality that she’s gone. And I should’ve done something to help her. I didn’t know things were that bad. I didn’t see her calling out for help. I was too wrapped up in my own hell. I should’ve been there for her. I let her down. Now I’ll never get the chance to make up for that. Because she’s not coming back. I have to live with the guilt of this forever. I have to live with the fact that I never got to see her again.

 

I’ve come out of darker times, to slightly less dark times before – I’m not sure I’ve ever fully seen the light again. But I’ve made progress. But this time I have to face it alone. And I’m having to pull myself out of places so dark I can’t even describe them. There are no words anymore. Nothing does the pain justice. Even the word ‘pain’ is inadequate. ‘Broken’ is inadequate. Any word to describe my emotions right now can’t come close to the level of what I feel. I feel, yet I don’t feel at the same time. I don’t feel real.

 

I’m praying for my heart to actually stop beating. To fully break and never work again. I want to wake up from this nightmare. The reason I can’t recover from this now is because I’ve seen too much of hell in the last two or three years…. I can’t un-see that. I live in a different world now. I don’t know anything anymore. And I have no anchor. I have no friends. I don’t have my rocks anymore. I am beyond lost. I am floating, and feel sick from the motion. I want my mind to break. I need to hit rock bottom now. I need to stop functioning. I need to stop thinking and feeling and hurting. I need it all to stop.

 

This can’t be my life. It isn’t fair.  I was someone who only wanted someone to love and to love me in return…. I got played, to the point I don’t believe in love anymore. I wanted friends, having grown up without any. They all destroyed me. I just wanted to not lose my best friend… I thought she deserved better than me, and was happier without me… I thought I was being replaced…. I didn’t want to burden her with my illness…..  I lost her…. she obviously agreed….. she is happier without me…. I was replaced…. and I clearly did burden her. I just wanted the love and support of my friends to help me through my grief and breakdown…. I got neglected and abandoned instead. The one person keeping me alive after all of that, ended her own life…. when I was feeling suicidal myself. And nobody is there for me through it. I’m constantly crying out for help. I don’t exist to anyone. I’m dead. And I’m just a burden to others.

 

All I’ve ever wanted was people to care and to love me… and to let me care about and love them. I’ve wanted people to not give up on me and leave me. And that’s all they’ve done. I wanted to matter, and I don’t. I wanted to be a priority for once. I never will be.

 

All I know is pain. Sadness. Loneliness. Abandonment. Betrayal. There is no happiness. No peace. No hope. I have nothing now. The world is so quiet, yet it goes on around me as though I’m not here.  But I feel distant. I feel dazed and in my own world, where all that exist are my thoughts and the hollowness in my chest, and the sick feeling in my stomach, and the tightening of my throat, and the tears in my eyes. And I sit here and pray for life to stop. Why can’t I just ‘give up’ on living and my heart just stops by me just willing it to? That’s what I want. I have no fight left in me.

 

I can see no recovery, because everything I thought was going to be in my future, has been ripped away from me this year. In the past I’ve at least been left with something… but I really have nothing.

 

There is nothing good about my life. I’ve achieved the grand total of nothing. I have no legacy to leave behind…. not like Liv. She did so much good, and she was so loved. I’m nothing and nobody.

 

I’ve started rationalising doing what Liv did. I’ve started telling myself I know it would hurt my family…. but a part of that would be for the future that is lost with me….. for all I could’ve been and done and had…. but that’s never going to happen anyway. I’m never going to have the life I wanted. I’m never going to find someone to love me, and have children with. I’m never going to be successful and make anyone proud. There’s no big loss…… in fact it would just ease the burden on everyone, to not have to worry about and care for me.

 

I’ve really never felt this low, and I’m completely isolated through it. I’ve been left in the dark. And that’s all there is. And all there ever will be now. ‘Who cares if one more light goes out?’ … this one wouldn’t be missed.

 

My mind has given up. My body is giving up. I feel paralysed, like I’m sprawled out on the floor, shattered, and can’t move, with the weight of everything bearing down on me. But time keeps ticking and my damn heart keeps beating. I can and often do stop the clock from ticking by taking the batteries out…. if only I could do the same with my heart. Either way, life goes on. And that’s the cruellest thing about life, for the grieving and the mentally ill…. life goes on, around us…. we’re left alone, living in pain for a lifetime, because nobody is really with us through everything. Nobody can understand how we feel.

 

The only thing that could’ve helped me was to have people step up and throw everything into helping me … caring…. worrying…. helping me see a glimmer of light again…. but there’s nobody to do that now. It’s silence. It’s black. It’s dead. I’m floating in the vacuum of space. And nobody can hear my screams.

 

 

Poem: Hell On Earth.

Hell On Earth

*Sorry about the length / quality of this poem…. been many, many months since I wrote any poetry, so rather rusty and had a lot to get out*
*Rare for me, but the use of a swear word in this one, and also violent imagery, mention of self-harm / suicidal feelings etc…. i.e. not a happy poem!!*

 
Hell On Earth

I’m trapped within a blind scream,
Starved of oxygen,
A sense of direction,
A place of safety.
The knives in my back twisting with every tumble
Through the unknown.
I try to pull them out, but they’re lodged right down to the bone.
Frightened, alone,
I pray to hit the ground and know peace…
The peace of Heaven.
This world is beyond my darkest nightmares,
A Hell on Earth.
A walk so uncertain and so full of pain;
For years I have soldiered on… now it feels it was all in vain.
Anyone I once called ‘my rock’, is dead or gone –
Giving up on me, or giving up on themselves
And taking the step into darkness,
In the quest to find the light once more.
Some left this Earth, others still walk it,
In blissful ignorance of the damage they caused.
Burning violence courses through my veins… but stays contained within.
The only time it ever shows is when I slice into my own skin.
Pain is the one thing I can control, in this fiery Hell.
I can’t make them love me.
I can’t make them stay.
I can’t make them treat me well and not walk away.
People are uncertainty, pain, danger.
Any moment they can let you go, leave you for dead,
Scarring you with their words and those left unsaid.
There’s nobody left…
Nothing….
I’m merely an empty shell,
A crazy girl in a prison cell,
A crippled mute down a deep, abandoned well.
No-one can hear my screams,
They never hit the air.
I cannot escape… I need help but there’s nobody there.
All I needed was someone to care,
To venture out on a limb,
Wear their heart on their sleeve and show me a little light,
But they turned their backs, strode away,
Gifting me the pitch-blackness of night.
The inner scream is torment… deafening.
I rip my own face in two to set it free
And destroy the universe with its power.
Every ‘rock’ from my past who walked away,
Threw me to the gutter, spat at me,
And stomped on my heart,
You belong in this Hell I’m living.
Fuck you, and all those who say I should be forgiving.
You are the ones deserving of suffering.
Yet here I lie, flattened against the wall,
Melting into oblivion,
My words of affection splattered next to me, rejected,
A stain of a memory of who I used to be,
You fractured my spirit until I no longer resemble me.
You made your choice,
You stole my voice,
Bound my hands,
Stabbed my heart,
Slit my wrists,
Made it intensely unbearable to exist,
Left me to die a bloody death all alone.
I wish I had a heart made of stone,
Just like you all, then maybe I could live,
Cope with the torture of breathing, in a world such as this.
Hard, raw, vivid, painful, terrifying in its reality.
Nothing is safe.
Everyone’s dying,
And nobody will care when I do.
They’ll celebrate my demise,
If they even notice at all, having severed all ties.
Neglected by the living,
Abandoned by the dead,
In order to survive I’ve cried, I’ve screamed, I’ve bled.
My knuckles bruised, my skin scarred and red,
Living is too hard.
The instability of life,
The accumulation of knives in my spine,
The loneliness, the trauma, the loss…
I’ve nothing left,
You killed me.
Leaving me, with no goodbye,
Now take your seat and watch me die.

 

 

All I Wanted Was…

All I wanted was my best friend back.
That’s all I wanted.
To know she cared about me, worried about me, and appreciated me.
To have her reassurance…
To feel safe in our friendship….
To know she wasn’t going anywhere…
I needed that stability and safety…. my world had collapsed after my first loss.
I needed to know she wouldn’t abandon me when my mental health deteriorated.
I needed to know I could count on her.
I wanted her to love me at my worst, because that’s when I needed her most.

 
I wanted my best friend to research my illness.
I wanted her to try her best to understand BPD….
And the concepts of paranoia, splitting and trauma.
To do this much for me, as I would for her.
To learn how to better support me and preserve our friendship.
To not hold my illness against me.
To understand why I am the way I am.
And why I do the things I do.

 

I wanted to see my Godchildren – the reason for me living.
I wanted my friend to help me find that lost part of me again.
I had lost faith in myself and thought I wasn’t good enough for them.
I needed my friend to help me see this wasn’t true.

 

I wanted to be a part of their lives… to watch them grow up.
I felt so proud watching them learn new things.
It’s been 15 months… so much has changed. They will not remember me.
I wanted to continue being there for them for the rest of my life.
I pictured the future with them. Now that future is gone.
And I will never see them again.
It’s not like a divorce where both parents see the kids.
I have no rights.
No way of seeing them.
I’ve lost them forever.
I’m heartbroken.

 

I only wanted to matter to my best friend.
For her to want to talk to me, to see me, to fight for me.
For her to not turn her back when I needed her most.
For her to ease my fear that I was being replaced.
I wanted her to understand how worthless I felt…
That I didn’t feel I deserved her.
That I was scared of losing her.
I wanted her to ease my pain, not add to it.
All I wanted was for my best friend to not be like the rest of them.
To apologise and make amends.
To not blame it all on me.
To use the difficulties to make us stronger.
To prove to me that bumps in the road don’t mean the end.
To make me feel safe to be honest with her if I felt hurt.
To not just give up on me at the first hurdle.
To not ‘ghost’ me and walk away making me think she hates me.

 
All I wanted was my best friend to show me empathy and compassion.
Even if she couldn’t understand my illness.
I wanted her to tell me words I needed to hear –
“I care about you”
“You’re my best friend and always will be”
“I miss you”
“I love you”
“I’m so thankful to have you in my life”
“I’m not going to leave you”
Is it too much to ask for caring words whilst suffering?

 

All I wanted was my best friend to make effort for me.
To send me a note that she’s thinking of me.
To ask how I am.
To give me a photo of us, to remind me of our bond.
To send some flowers.
To invite me for a coffee.
Anything to let me know I existed and mattered to her.
To match my efforts.
All I wanted was for my best friend to notice how hard I was trying…
To cope with my illness. Alone.
To cope with my first major loss. Alone.
To sort things out with her, despite my illness, even though she had given up on me.
All I wanted was to feature on my best friend’s list of priorities.
I knew I was nowhere near the top anymore.
But I wanted to feel I mattered on some level.
I wanted to not feel like a burden to her.
I honestly believed I was.
I wanted her to treat me otherwise.

 

All I wanted was to put my mental health first.
For my friend to put my mental health first.
For my friend to agree it was important.
For her to understand why I had to make the decision to step back.
For her to realise if she couldn’t make a choice then I had to.
That it wasn’t fair to string me along.
That it didn’t mean we couldn’t talk.
That she overreacted by blocking me.
All I wanted was my friend not to hurt me.
Not to block me.
Not to remove herself from my group after finding out it would hurt me.
Not to reconnect with the one person who came between our friendship before.
To stop doing these things she knows would hurt me.
To stop doing these things TO hurt me.
To want to ease my pain, not cause it.

 

All I wanted was my friend to put thought into how to make it up to me.
How to resolve things with me.
To focus on that, and not do anything further to jeopardise it.

 
I just wanted to be fought for.
To matter enough to my best friend to not let me go without a fight.
To matter enough to just one person, to not simply give up on me.
As though I’m worthless.
Nothing.

 

I wanted to be able to live life.
I wanted my friend to wish the best for me in life.
I wanted my best friend to care whether I live or die.
For her to stop doing things that push me closer to the edge.
I felt she actually wanted me to kill myself.
I wanted this to not be true.
I wanted her to do anything to have me as her friend.
I wanted to believe I meant as much to her as she did to me.

 

Most of all I want this all to be a nightmare.
To wake up and have my best friend back.
And for none of this to have happened.
I want to be okay again.
I want to not be alone.
I want trust.
And hope.
I want peace.
And I want the pain to stop.

 

 

 

Bad Night.

Really not okay tonight. Feel too hurt to put into words. Hope I’ll be able to do so in the coming days. Having this illness sucks. Having people who were supposed to be friends, abusing your vulnerability and doing everything they can to hurt you, sucks even more. Don’t know how to feel, what to say or what to do. How to cope. Really haven’t tonight. Have to take a pill and hope I’ll fall asleep eventually. It’s almost 3am. Mind is in chaos. I’ve had enough of feeling and living at this point. I’ll reassess in the morning.