Bell works

Bell works Jan 2014

It's hard to shake that feeling you get after you've done something you never thought you could do.

After the gritting of teeth and continuous self motivation, but before the elation and self satisfaction that comes with hindsight.

The stomach loosens and the jaw relaxes, you come back down to normality gradually enough to be caught in a limbo.

Where you're by no means changed, or cured, or better, but you're not quite yourself either.

Just a medium ground, more pensive than happy or any other kind of emotion.

And we're left to stumble around trying to decide whether to congratulate yourselves or regret your actions.

Bell works Dec 2013

From my core to the top of my lungs

I'll say it once,
once very loudly,
and then never again.

Being sick doesn't excuse bad behaviour. It doesn't mean you're allowed to forget about others; what they want, what they need, the fact what they want might compromise what you might want.

And that is perfectly fine, because the world won't stop spinning just because you get dizzy.
It can't,
otherwise we'd never keep moving.

I love you with all my heart, more than I can express with words before turning into a sobbing mess, because I loved you before and just as much after.

I love you because you stayed, when all you wanted to do was leave. I love you because you tuned out the other voices and listened to the only ones that really mattered. I love you because even after the years of hurt and suffering from unseen forces, you still smile at me, even when I know you don't feel like it.

I love you so much,
but that doesn't mean that you aren't a giant **** sometimes.

It doesn't mean that you get to pick and choose when you want to be involved in people's lives,
and it certainly doesn't mean that you can be wholly self-centered at times for the sake of 'recovery'.

Because we both know there is no such thing as recovery. There is only management, only tolerance, and that means learning how to deal with other people's **** as well as yours.

Because believe me, we're learning how to deal with this illness just as much as you.

So don't be a ****.

Ask us about our day went BEFORE you launch into a rant about people on public transport.
Sleep in until 3pm, but stack the dishwasher or make the bed before we get home.
Tell us that you've had a really dark day instead of starting a fight about something you don't care about, because I guarantee you, we've got a fuckload of grievances we won't tell you about, so don't pull out ours because you want to fight.

Most importantly, tell us that you love us, because sometimes it's hard to tell.
Don't follow it with how we couldn't possibly understand or reciprocate it, just a simple 'I love you' will carry us for longer than you think.

Bell works Dec 2013

The sound of silence

I've sat down to write this a million times,
focused on the luminous white screen with its blinking cursor begging to follow the flow of words.

But it never came, never flowed as freely as it used to. It's not because I don't have the time, it's not even because I don't have the words, it's because when I'm finally left to think about things, I'm frozen.

The words will come, eventually, I'm sure of it, but until then, i commit myself to shouting them out in my head, in my thoughts, in my sleep.

Bell works Nov 2013

Learnt, but never taught

Be your own first love.
Be your own best friend.

Learn to listen to yourself.
Notice when your voice changes.

Don't go out when you want to stay home.
Don't feel obligated to compromise yourself for your friends, family, love.

Don't say yes when you mean no.

Most important, don't wait for someone to come along and fix you, because in the long run, you're ******* yourself over for when they leave to mend the other broken people.

Bell works Nov 2013

The limitations of poetic license

Never fall in love with a poet, they'll **** themselves trying to find the words to show you how they feel, and never say them for fear of being underwhelming.

Tell them you love them, because whilst they could write you a sonnet worthy of Shakespeare, they'll probably have thrown it away, unseen, with the old Thai food from last night.

They are their own harshest critic.
To you, they are your beautiful bumbling idiot.

Bell works Nov 2013

Untitled

I dont look in the mirror anymore, because I have your eyes, and that hurts.

Bell works Nov 2013

A touch of heaven

I silently sit in my own little garden,
calm and still against the gentle breeze.

The grass beneath me is soft and green,
hugging the gentle ***** of my spine.

The sun is warm and bright,
Orange against my closed eyelids and gently kissing my skin.

With a deep breath,
I breathe in the smell of life;
the moss growing on the trees,
the flowers in their beds,
and the earth rich with moisture from the rains.

You'd like it here, my love.
It's always warm and dry,
and it's never turns to night.

There is no whistle of bombs from above,
or threat of crumbling rubble from below.
No more soldiers gun,
or strangers bullet,
hitting its target as it roams blindly through the night.

Leave your darkness,
leave your fear,
and join me.

I'll be waiting