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Evelyn Smith Jul 2019
Nostalgia, Comfort and Safety drip down into a vessel like hourglass.
Dropping particles of sand to the bottom once in a blue moon.
I tell myself when they fall my end will finally come.
But deep down I hope when the vessel is full it will be my new beginning, not my end.

A beginning I am not yet ready to embrace yet.
Trapped inside woven rope and steel chains of ******* trauma, torture and shame.
The switchblade emotions I've been carrying, the daggers punctuated into my skin for years now.
It feels they've sunk so deep they're a part of me.

But maybe that's not the case.
Each tender memory that comes back to me and new day I live in safety gives me a false sense of security that maybe one day I won't live like this anymore.
Is it false or do I just have to work harder?
Put faith in the ones around me and fall like the sands of time?

I cannot heal in the place I was hurt.
But it was my body that was hurt, how do I escape that?
My therapist tells me questioning is the first step to acknowledging that snowballs into accepting but I'm not quite there yet.

I've been writing my recovery in factious novels ever since I was young but when the happy ending comes I abandon it.
I feel a sense of loss when things come to an end.
But the end of an illness is really just a new start.

If safety persists maybe I'll lever my head out of my novels and try writing my recovery in the real world.
But tonight I will hold nostalgia close to my chest and remind myself in some of the most terrifying times of my life there was safety.

And there will be safety again one day.
My time may just come,
bit optimistic this
Evelyn Smith Apr 2019
I sit until the early hours of the morning writing myself into a fictitious life where I am admired and wanted.
An elven princess born with a prophecy to save her people.
Long lilac hair, perfectly pointed ears and a smile that puts everyone at ease.
Powers brimming from the palm of her hands to wield magic for protection and safety.
But when my sleep resistant eyes finally fall and the screen of my laptop dims I'm reminded that I am nothing.

Catching my reflection in the screen, seeing the sight of sunken eyes and unbrushed hair, the same clothes as 3 days ago, a half full mug of cold hot chocolate and a mess of food packets on the floor.

I am no princess I accept that, and I know I never will be.
But my attachment to this story is that people care about me.
Furiously typing to create a world where I am never lonely.
Where people understand me, where I'm wanted.

Lack of friends leads me to creating them inside a world I'll never reach.
Elven princes, warriors and alchemists who really want to spend time with me.
I don't write much on the battle ground, mundane is what I'm fond of the most.
When they sit circled on the grass sharing stories, spending peaceful time together.
It's something I wish I had.

When my illnesses surfaces and my symptoms prevail people who I thought were close to me distanced themselves and turned.
Empty messages to see if I'm okay, just to subside their own guilt.
'At least if she dies, its not on my back, I asked if she was alright.'

A long lulling of loneliness aches inside my chest, a hollow beat of loss sits heavy in my stomach.
People always leave to find someone better than me.
Someone more stable and exciting,
Others that can leave the house and have coherent conversation.

3 times the charm on trying to make me motivated but it never seems to work.
I presume everyone left me because I drained them of all they had.

I create conversations in my head to have with friends who are no longer here, where I finally reach the punchline of my jokes, situations where fingers don't fidget and eyes don't stare.

I'm aware of how exhausting I am but I thought people knew how hard I try to change that.
I guess the people who I thought were close to me never intended in staying to see it.

So I climb back into bed, turn on my laptop and re-immerse myself into the world where I am more than this. Back to where I feel comfortable, inside my fictional fantasy dream.
I miss my friends who don't miss me and I miss being more than this
Evelyn Smith Jan 2019
Worthless dumb baby trapped in a clueless adults skin.
Too loud, too emotional, too needy, too lost.
Self destructive but never self reliant.
I'm a leech to the people I love.
I can't function without their aid,
I can't live without their validation.

The feelings I express with never be reciprocated to how my brain desires.
Normal people do not burst and burn when feeling something.
They don't ache for companionship.
They don't regress for love.  

My body is covered in 1,000 marks where I took it out on myself for simply feeling.
Too overwhelmed by the sensations in my body and brain.
Too overly stimulated to function.

I cry when the tone of someone's voice doesn't make sense in my head.
I feel sick when people are not how I want them perceived.

My world is black and white.
All I know is love and hate.
A false sense of security and a stand-still fear.
Infatuation and obsession.
Boredom and demotivation.
If I'm not feeling like I'm about to explode what's the point in feeling at all.

Neutrality and a 'happy medium' only make me feel unsafe, empty and numbed, I'm never satisfied.
To feel so strongly is a blessing and a curse.
When it works its perfect.
When it fails it's fatal.

Attempts of my life over and over again at the fear of never being accepted or loved.
That someone will leave when you give them all your trust.
That someone will hurt you for simply opening up.

I know I'm a lot to handle, too much at times.
Like a newborn child I need looking after continuously.
Attention and affection 24/7 around the clock.
I'd hate to be close to me, I hate being me.

Intelligent and eloquent but my emotional permanence is zero.
I don't know how to function, I don't know how to be human.
They say it's my quirks, they say its unique.
How expressive I am is what people like about me...
Only when its suitable for them,
where they have something to gain.
Not when i'm crying at 4am, screaming at midday, rambling spiel for hours on end.

I'm exhausted of me and I wish everyone else was too.
I wouldn't take a single thought of not ending my life if I was truly alone.
I've tried to push everyone away but I missed the feeling of being in love.

No matter what state I'm never happy and I fear I never will be.
I wish I had no emotions, I wish I was nothing.
this is **** but i needed to ramble before i **** myself over
Evelyn Smith Dec 2018
There's a small temple in this forest where humans no longer send their prayers.
There's a small temple in this forest where a spirit lives, once praised constantly for its existence but now no one bothers to care.
There's a small temple somewhere in this forest it's just become hard to find.
It is my home, but everyone has forgot.

I am wandering aimlessly, constantly,
I am spirit which was never put to rest.
I am searching for something but even I don't know what it is.
I am never allowed to sleep, I am never allowed to stop.
I am forced by a supernatural folklore to walk until I'm found.

But it feels like I've been walking for an eternity.
People around me have been born, loved and passed,
All in the time I've circled this forest and made an imprint in the grass.

Following the same route everyday,
I no longer bother to open my eyes.
Forever following the path of my old footprints,
They said I'd find my peace around here somewhere,
But it seems impossible to find.

Once loved by many I was the spirit of compassion and empathy.
Visited and appreciated everyday by those who cared for my existence.
When I poured my feelings into others I passed my emotions onto them.
Maybe I tried a little too hard because I never got mine back.

No one visits anymore.
I'm bitter, short-tempered and unsettled.
I'm quick to snap and share spiteful words to those looking for solace.
I tell them solidarity is a lie and their emptiness will live with them forever.

Everyone admired that I used to speak from experience.
Though I wear a mask, I do not hide behind a facade.
Once a spirit of hope and enthusiasm.
They now title me the pessimistic one.

There's a small temple in this forest, it hasn't been praised in years.
A demon lives inside and she will only present you sorrow and tears.

There's a small temple in this forest and its slowly crumbling down.
Left lost in the overgrowth, the spirit grows weaker as the years pass.
Evelyn Smith Nov 2018
I've locked my emotions in a glass cabinet,
Somewhere I can't quite remember.
All I know is it's bulletproof and I regret ever doing so.

I'm grieving the feeling of feeling anything at all.

I've repressed all of me to please others just so I can be palatable.
I've suppressed every ounce so no one would leave.

But In doing so it seems I've completely left myself.

I used to feel happiness so intensely I could lift myself to the stars.
I used to feel love so strongly I was every lonesome souls fantasy.
I used to feel enthusiasm so passionately I almost made something out of myself.

But most importantly, I used to simply feel.    

Sad eyed boys displeased with themselves threw knives around my silhouette and now I can no longer move.
Trapped emotionally motionless backed into the corner of my walls.

When they told me "you're just too much" i turned myself into nothing at all.

I didn't ask to be the way I am.
I'm a product of trauma, can you not sympathise to that?
I'm sorry I'm so chaotic and I'm sorry I'm always too much,
and I'm sorry you're all so self centred you'll ruin someone else just to feel good.
Beat me when I'm already down just so you can stand on my back to raise yourself.

I transformed myself into nothing just to please others who'll eventually leave and I watch them stuff everything I had into their pockets, they took all of me.

Now I'm lifeless and scared.
I just wanted to be loved.
I just wanted someone to be proud of me.
I just wanted someone to be able to accept all of me.

I'm the faint whisper in the wind of a person who once was.
The shadow in the background as everyone else's life moves on.
I am left chained by these collars I was tied to and abandoned.

Someone, something.
Please, find me.
Evelyn Smith Sep 2018
Sleep deprived hallucinations,
the walls are expanding and closing.
There's flashing lights bursting in the air.
There's spiders crawling over my skin.

4am teleshopping trying to desperately sell me a good night's sleep.
Maybe I should spend 199.99 just to fix my insomnia,
the commercial man said it would.

I hate being awake, it gives me too much time to think.
About all the mistakes I make for myself and all the people I miss.
Sit dry eyed until the sun rises and rejuvenate them with my tears.

Buy two 80p pencil sharpeners and a litre of *****.
Hide it under your bed so you can attempt to make things better.

Wait it out,
Take a breath,
They're only there for if you really need it.
But god you really do need it.
I just desperately want to feel something.

I've pushed everyone away from me,
And hate them for not trying to come back.
I'm alone and it's all my fault.
But I'll try blame everyone else so I don't have to address that.

Repeat last years mistakes because at least you knew how to feel.
Sit alone when the party's over and think of the year you put to waste

Burn every positive emotion with the lighter from your back pocket,
Watch all your hard work turn to ash.
Let it disappear like it was never real.

I keep telling people I'm temporary but they don't like to listen.
And when I run away without an explanation they act like they weren't ready?

I'm not real, how many times can I say that.
It's not that i fear commitment its that I fear ever becoming human.
And too much personal contact slowly brings me back to reality.
I don't want that, I pride my unhealthy coping mechanisms too much.
I'll trade ever having a stable relationship so I can dissociate for months.

It's all I've ever know and It's all I'll ever be.
And though like anyone I do crave affection.
I'd rather hide and leave it be.
I'm a burden and a drain on everyone's life.
Now I'm older and self aware I no longer have to think twice,
I'm no good at forming human connections,
I'm incapable to speak how I really feel.

So I'll stay awake until 4am like I always have and probably always will.
I'm sorry if you ever got the chance to meet me and I ran away before you could see how you really feel.

People say I haunt them, I'm always their 'could have been'.

But the importance in that sentence is I am no ones 'should have been'
a complimentary memory foam pillow doesn't sound half bad
Evelyn Smith Aug 2018
I've expressed all that I could.
Found a metaphor for every problem.
And made a simile so I didn't have to really think about it.
I truly have nothing left to say.

The older I grow the harder it becomes to turn my pain into poetry.
The more aware I become the more I realise there really is nothing poetic about my life.

I've become blunt and vague.
I don't speak to anyone anymore.
I don't want to share my story.
I want to close the book,
and stuff it deep into a box that will never be found.

I used to find positives in my disorders,
but now i am the disorder.
I'd rather have lower empathic abilities if it means I didn't have to feel
I'm not helping anyone.

I'm just cynical and selfish these days.

My bones and organs always ache.
There's tears burning in the back of my eyes.
Where's the poetic meaning in that?
I'm just a wimp.

I'm ashamed.

I still feel as much as I always have and always will,
I'm just as exhausted, just as scared, just as broken.
But I don't want to talk about it anymore.

I want to put myself in a corner and hide until I'm forgotten.
I regret ever trying to speak up about my issues.
Now I just see myself as the issue.
That weird girl who's overly sensitive and a little too loud mouthed.

I want to be beige.
No one really likes beige.
Where's the positives and attraction towards something so bland?
It sounds perfect to me, dull, boring, beige.

I suppressed my true feelings so much that I fear they really are gone.
I was shamed for being so passionate,
Now I can't remember what that word means.

People loved me for my enthusiasm but hated it had no off button.
People loved that I always gave so much but hated it too,
had no off button.

Now I'm just off.
Gone off,
Turned off.
I don't feel anymore.
When I do it dissipates before I can recall what just happened.

I'm dazed and disconnected.
Stumbling and mumbling dull and pointless sentences,
just to let people know I do still exist.

So hey, I am still out here.. barely.
Floating around like I always have.

I'm just tired,
Tired of trying to speak when my jaw aches and clenches as I let a word escape my mouth.

I'm pointless, insignificant, bland, boring and beige.
And I can't feel sorry for myself because I made me this way.

So no one else would leave and so no one would try entering.

There's no invitations to this losers party.
And even if there was,
no one would come anyways.
Me: An old grumpy man hoping his wife will pull the cord on his life support.
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