I'm standing in a dark room with my eyes closed.
I'm finding a new song.
As I fall in love.
As I'm always falling.
Can I be in love with you when I'm not among the living?
I can't sleep.
I can't find comfort in anything.

But the dark room and the song remind me of the moment where not everything is happening .
I'm not missing out on anything.
When I'm in the moment and I see much more in the dark.
I'm missing out when I see everything happening.
Because that's when nothing's really happening to me.

I'll go searching in the dark, maybe I'll find love.
Maybe you will find  me too.
Like the song.
Like the song found me.
As I sing along.
I notice you touching my lips.

Your hands are feeling every movement.
I feel every feeling as I'm singing.
The song that found me.
And I found you years ago but I cannot be in love with you.
Because I'm not among the living.
I can't sleep.
I can't find comfort in anything.

So empty, too full.
She gave all she could.
But pouring water kept her from breathing.            
Well then what is left to do but drown?

But then look at them judging, why ain’t she swimming?
Can’t breathe, can’t breathe.
They stand there and tell her exactly what to do.
From the sideline.
All she ever asked was for them to understand why.
Why she drowned and sank.

But it was too much to ask so she drowned alone again.
And this time she gave in.
She gave up and blocked out everyone who never listened to her begging.
Just understand that all she was asking was for you to believe that it really was pouring and pouring and pouring.
And it never stopped…

I need a waterfall of mercy all over my tortured body.
That kept waking up from noises when it got comfy finally. One day it will end, one day I will find peace. But now just let me sleep and not be in this horror please!!!

I’m so tired and lonely.
I want to lie in somebody’s arms.
Like a baby.
Connected.
And I want to escape from this place forever.
But I can’t find the escape, the connection or the right arms.

The right eyes don’t look.
The hands I love don’t reach.
The voice I long for is saying hurtful things.
The face I want to see is turned.
And the warmth I once felt for a moment turned into a breeze.

It doesn’t accept me.
It blows against me.
Pushes me down.
The last bit of hope to feel something other than the loneliness, the exhaustion, sadness.
It left me.

More empty, more defeated.
But what did I expect?
As if anyone would ever want to hold a baby that keeps crying.
That doesn’t sleep tight.
That is never happy to live.

Always so broken.
Lost in a world that it was forced into.
To live a life that’s way too much to handle and to carry?
Nobody wants to hold a baby that became a grown woman with too much hurt.

I hate to admit the only thing that makes me feel ok is beer.
Nothing works.
I want to not care.
But it takes forever to make my bed right.
To put the pillow down in the right position without distraction.
And I did put it down, but I got distracted, it went wrong and so I started drinking beer again.

And I know I should be patient.
I know I should be peace.
But I’ve been through discomfort too many times for too long.
That I find it hard to just accept it.
That it’s not ok and that doesn’t feel ok.
Life has never been ok for me, has never really been working.

Although I keep saying that I’ve done so much learning.
So I accept my fate but let it be over in the end because I can’t keep on doing this.
Over and over every day, trying to make it ok.
Please let me die in peace one day like I’m dying in peace and beer every night when I pass out for three hours on the couch.
It’s better than dealing with everything, although everything comes back when I wake up.

And I try to make things right before I start drinking.
Why has it come to this?  
It has always been like this.
Just in different ways.

Eating, exercising, not eating, trying to compensate for eating…
Running running, running running running.
Or just screaming.
Drinking, drowning, puking, wishing I could be puking.
But just passing out again.
Because it takes forever to make life work for me.

I didn’t come out of the womb, I didn’t want to.
But now I know, I had a very rough journey to get through somehow.
And I’ve had the best people in my life that I could wish for.
But one day it should be over and it shouldn’t take too long.
I shouldn’t get too old.
I’m so done done done done done done done done fighting fighting fighting fighting fighting fighting fighting fighting fighting fighting fighting fighting fighting fighting fighting trying trying trying trying trying.

Even giving up and it’s not even stopping the pain.
Not entirely, although it helps a bit to give up.
Please understand, just have compassion.
I have suffered all of my life in many ways and I still am.

But I am working on a good end to all of this.
Let’s finish this book of horror and pain, agony, and intense torture!
And yes, I had good moments.
Yes, I had the best of company.
Yes, I try to be free and yes, I had adventures.
I’m grateful, I’m ok with it.

But I’m NOT with the continuous suffering!
And I know this life isn’t fair, but really it is so so so so so so so so unfair in many ways.
Not just my life, I see it all around.
Some people found a way to manage it, but I have NEVER been able to really.
And DID I try!
I tried.

This life, a journey full of pain.
It’s ok, but I’m done!
I’m holding on, but I hope for the end.
And I hope I can hold on for a good one, a good end to all of this.
I owe it to myself and to the people in my life.
But if it’s not possible, then that’s also my journey.

And I hope it doesn’t have to come to that, but if it does, it does.
And I’m just being honest because that’s life, that’s what it is.
That’s this life.
I heard the song by Mark Knopfler on the radio at the hairdressers today, ‘What it is’.

To you:

I made a mistake today.
Can’t fix the pain.
I am the one that hurts you.
Again.

Oh no, you’ve got to fix me.
You want to fix me.
I can’t be fixed and I’m that bad.
Again.

Help me, save me, I’m a witch burning.
Still burning and being in pain.
Your pain.
My pain.
My intensity, good, bad and horrible.
Torturing tension.
Sensitivity.

I want to **** that ***** that’s inside.
I want to be ok.
I want to be good.
To you. 😭

If I can’t work towards my future, then I should accept my death
I’m mentally terminal

Intensely over it
Giving up with passion
Raging from the depth

Nailed to the ground
Dropped like a sack of potatoes
Fights are over

There is no more fighting fire
Just burning
Crawling through the still burning ashes

Has the courage to reflect on her own decisions.
Shares with us her feelings of love, pain and hope.
She gives advice and strengt hand brings along some greater visions.
And she learns from her and our journeys.
Which we share, sometimes from a distance.
No other mother I would choose, my sister and I are her only babies.
She loves with fire and persistence.
Here and beyond here.
A mother like you is like no other, that’s clear.

Stitches in my mouth
Blood and chocolate
My teeth on a string
Spitting blood

Everything I bite turns to red velvet
Paying in blood
For old ways to make it through the night
Infected wounds
Digging in the dirt
To take out the trash

Stitched back up
Like my stuffed support animal
Having to behave
No drinking

Just suffering, cleaning
Sitting in the noise
Always something happening
Distracting

Dealing with everything
Hanging by a thread
It’s not holding
Falling

It’s not working well
Holding on
Without drinking
And only eating
Red velvet