Courage and Cowardice

We currently live in a world where communication is everywhere. We have Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and Tinder which give us the means of communication with anyone worldwide at the touch of a button. So why is it so fucking hard to communicate with someone face to face? As a society we find it almost impossible to talk about anything personal or anything that can make us feel utterly vulnerable to someone we care about, yet we so freely flaunt our lives and air our dirty laundry (and worse) on Facebook and Tinder, no questions asked.

It took my now ex “boyfriend” 4 days to ask me “Are we okay?” After I had been distant and non responsive and quite cold towards him after an argument that wasn’t really resolved and left a bitter taste in my mouth. As you can see, I have a tendency to hold onto things… Now you could look at it this way: why had I not said anything to him in those four days about how I was feeling and what I was thinking? Or you could ask why did it take him four whole fucking days to ask me a simple question, which maybe if he’d asked a little sooner, we might not be exes?

The simple answer is this (and it’s hardly breaking news); we hide behind our computers screens, bury ourselves in our phones, avoiding any face to face communication and confrontation. We find it so easy to speak our mind when given a keyboard to type on but god forbid our relationships are on the line and BAM! We can’t say shit because we’re terrified. We’ve lost the ability to actually say how we’re feeling to an actual human being, instead posting it up on social media for the whole world to read. Which makes me really sad, even though we are all guilty of it, myself included. I mean look at me now, I am literally hiding behind a blog. I am such a hypocritical cliché it’s making my head hurt.

The thing is, what can we do to try and change? To better ourselves, communicative and otherwise, so that our future selves, lives, relationships don’t suffer the consequences of our cowardly actions? We take small steps to make those small changes. We open up to someone even if we’re terrified, we tell someone we love them, even if they might not say it back. And we stop shaming others for the lives they lead and for the things they do just because the computer screen gives us the courage and cowardice to do so. Yes, it’s painful baring your soul to a loved one let alone a complete stranger… but if you reveal what’s under that mask you wear, the mask that we all seem to hide under; life isn’t so scary after all.

The frequency of my inadequacy

The frequency of my inadequacy

vibrates with hate and indecency

it constantly disguises itself as

a trustworthy friend who ceases

to evade my utter lunacy

yet so brilliantly

fucks my life over entirely

in its entirety

impulsively burning bridges

with such self deprecation

That I stand there in dumbfounded

fascination

As I watch the flames

burning

my cheeks with shame

and humiliation

My very own severe degradation

It’s like I can’t even help

my situation

It takes it toll

And I fear I can’t hold it in

much longer

and though I am stronger

I am still only human.

(Petty Treason for) Amnesia

How it feels to lose your memory after significant trauma and/or triggered depression.

An analogy for amnesia

Imagine you were born out of hate and not love

Like you were a mistake on purpose

You grew up with memories

That you can’t quite illustrate

The lines are blurred

And you’re sure it’s a dream but can’t quite pinpoint when you fell asleep

If only you could wake up

Then you would know if it was real

or a figment of your imagination.

Demons

They always come to me

first thing, when I wake

even when I sleep and dream

My heart and soul they take.

They haunt me in daylight

They taunt me in the dark

Constantly clawing at my mind

And tearing it a part.

My Demons they always find me

no matter where I go

I’m restricted by these chains, bound by this pain

And my demons seem to follow.

They tell me I’m not good enough

As I try to right my wrongs

They tell me I should just give up

And that I don’t belong.

I live in a war zone

In the depths of my own head

Where living doesn’t feel like an option

And that I am just better off dead.

Cos no matter where I go

My Demons seem to follow.

Subterranean Consequential Blues

This is a poem I wrote which was inspired by Bob Dylan’s “Subterranean Homesick Blues”.

*

Subterranean Consequential Blues

 

Johnny’s in the basement

smoking on a crack

pipe

all alone in the dark

clingin’ to his dreams

tight

 

Johnny’s in the basement

he hasn’t got a

clue

he can’t even pay the rent

what’s he gonna

do?

 

Johnny’s in the basement

fighting for human

rights

making the world a better place

in his own fucked up

mind

 

Johnny’s in the basement

Burning a silver

spoon

He reckons he’s Neil Armstrong

He thinks he’s on the

moon

 

 

Johnny’s in the basement

he’s talking on the

phone

he’s saying “PLEASE HELP ME”

I can’t do this all

alone

 

Now I’m in the basement

But Johnny’s no longer

here

I don’t think he could take anymore

I think he got The

Fear

“They don’t love ME, they love the IDEA of me.”

What it’s like to “date” when you have depression and anxiety.

Dating and meeting new people, is quite possibly one of the most terrifying yet frustrating things to do when you suffer with depression and/or anxiety (or any mental illness for that matter). For me, there’s this voice inside my head telling me “Go! Have fun! You deserve it! You need some fun in your life, what have you got to lose?” This is my favourite part of my brain because it reminds me of the young, carefree girl I once used to be, before self doubt and paranoia took me hostage and my body started playing host to my “ugly sister”. She is the destroyer; the paranoid and the self destructive part of me that constantly makes me feel totally worthless and incapable of any kind of love. And it breaks my heart every time, because I am reminded of the scared little girl I will probably always be; the girl who can’t let anyone too close, in fear of being abandoned.

I wish I could say it wasn’t always like this but I would be lying. I can’t for the life of me remember a time I felt safe, I felt sure of the “love” that surrounded me and the love that I [rarely] gave to myself. I have always felt like it’s some big joke that I was never “in on”. I never got the memo. I convince myself that nobody actually loves me, or even likes me for that matter. They simply tolerate me. They deal with me. My entire life feels like a lie and it’s torture. My body is there and my face is smiling, whilst my brain is conjuring up this elaborate story that everyone is literally out to get me. They pretend to like me. But in my own fucked up reality, they are here to tear down my walls, make me open myself up to them, to one day (quite possibly in the near future) turn around and laugh in my face. No I’m not making this up, and yes this is oh so very real for me.

Every time I open myself up to someone, every time I take a risk and go on a “date”, or let someone see the “real” me… it is absolute and utter torture, because inevitably, I will self sabotage everything I did or said, make that person HATE me and all because I would rather hurt them, than them be the one to hurt me. Because I just couldn’t bare it… couldn’t deal with it. At the end of the day I also honestly believe I am doing them a favour (which I obviously am) because who the fuck would want to know me, let alone love me anyway? I am broken. I am scarred. I try to tell this to people I meet all the time but they don’t seem to believe me. I tell them point blank that “I’m crazy” and they shrug and laugh it off like it’s some hilarious joke I have just made. No its not a joke. I genuinely feel this way and to me, it’s very fucking real.

Ironically, there is nothing more I want than for someone to love me and understand me. I wish there was some “magic wand” that I could wave to make all these incessant thoughts and feelings go away, that something would wipe this horrendous internal monologue clean from my brain, but unfortunately there is no such thing. SO until the day comes that there is a “miracle cure” for my stupid brain, I will undoubtedly push people away, regardless of who they are or what their “intentions” are, because that’s just the detrimental part of me I have unfortunately become accustomed to. And if you don’t like it? Well, get used to it because that’s just who I am. And it’s not like I didn’t fucking warn you anyway.