What is this feeling I can't seem to shake? I know im not dreaming But i dont feel awake
I look all around me But nothing feels real My heart keeps on pounding it's all i can feel
What is this feeling that steals all my breath? Whatever i do it won't make me fear less
I look at the world But it's just one big dream Reality is fading It's not what it seems
I call out for help But nobody can hear me The silence within Is all that is near me
Im trapped in my mind with no place to go this life is an illusion im all on my own
A poem about the struggles i used to have with derealisation, i also struggles greatly with depersonalisation and the feeling of being outside of my body and watching myself. It can be an extremely scary and frightening experience
You say I am obsessed with myself, And the way I look. Point out how I stare at the mirror and focus on every nook And every cranny of my body. But I am not obsessed, I just fear I’m going mad From a terrifying disorder who knows how long I’ve had. I‘m merely mapping out this body I see through this drunk-like haze. Searching for a sign to tell me “this is you” To tell me “this is right” and that there’s no mistake. Pinching myself until I feel something in this dreamlike state. It’s like a never ending nightmare, from which I Cannot Wake. Staring at the mirror at this body Which apparently is mine. No I am not obsessed, I just think I’m going mad, From a terrifying disorder who knows how long I’ve had.
This is a poem about struggling with depersonalisation/derealisation. These disorders can cause a person to feel like the are going mad due to a feeling of detachment from reality.
Sometimes the emptiness is the heaviest The world feels numb Like my connection to the world has long been disconnected Like fingertips sanded away Nerves sleeping The only taste in my mouth is of the food eaten yesterday.
I live in a land of suspension Swimming between worlds that don’t want me Stuck as a nomad a child of purgatory
I feel very depersonalised when I talk about the past Certain things that happened feel like they didn't to me And I was just a bystander to all the chaos And when people ask me what happened In my mind I open up a book And turn it back to that factual page And recite these lines that I wrote To make it make sense But I think I've read those pages so much It doesn't mean anything to me anymore I'm done playing hide and seek with my thoughts Maybe if I went back to the old house I'd go back to drawing on walls Becoming cold But for now I'll hold Onto the part Of me that knows I'll never be that helpless or stuck and though things might remind me Or take me back a few pages right now I'm numb But I can't tell if it's A healthy forget or a suppressed anthem
Time moved through me forgetting to carry me with her.
And I waited.
Like the businessman at Flinders Street Station - stagnant - while the world passed him by, and time moved through him, in fast motion; forgetting to whisper past his cheek and sweep the petals from his eyes.
For he carries a garden inside, but all gardens need time.