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sometimes I feel like my body is pulling apart into a million pieces

my ribs stretching out and ripping away from my heart
I’m uncontained

I can’t sleep without someone holding me together
crushing the pieces into place

there’s no one here

so I don’t sleep
I can try to hold my organs in and my spirit in my body by gripping a pillow, but it isn’t effective. So I drift apart and float. Don’t like it.
Lux Falls Aug 2018
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
thelemonpolice Aug 2018
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
thelemonpolice Jul 2018
It doesn't  matter if it's good
It doesn't matter if it's sad
It doesnt matter if it doesn't even quite reach your hands

It doesnt matter if you're mean
It doesnt matter if you're nice
They'll always think that's it's just you trying to break the ice

It doesn't mean anything new
It doesn't feel anything fresh
It doesn't make me feel a long
Loud thud in my chest

It doesn't make me feel mad
It doesn't make me want to cry
It doesn't make me want to party a lot like I'm high

It makes me want to disappear
It makes me want to float away
It makes me want to wish
I'd dream of something better someday

It makes me want to stop my thoughts
It makes me want to dive right in
It makes me wish I had some control
Or is that still a sin?

Yes I know I'm being selfish
The theory of mind
I'll never fully comprehend the truths that you see in your eyes

But all I know is I pretend
Because I have to now and then
Because it makes me seem difficult or abstract to them

At first it was for a job
Then it was for my friends
But honestly there isn't ever a place that it will end

I don't want to make you feel sad
I know you're feeling kind of lonely
Or maybe you are just using me
To climb the social hierarchy slowly

How did it even end up here
Can I just throw this all away
When I've made a mark
And started saying everything I've always wanted to say

But is nobody listening
If it's coming from me?
Is this just like another
Way to learn to people please?

But does god only listen
If your down on your knees?
Does a child only matter
When they can't stop their screams?

People please, just do your research,
It's strange what you don't know
It's strange that you can pack up all your things and just go home

It's strange that I think I'm stranger
It's strange that I am right.
It's strange that I can tell they're intimidated just with their eyes

It's strange when I cannot feel
It's strange when I feel real
It's strange when strangers smile and pass me by, say hi to me

and I am really shocked
The lack of all the fear
But I can tell when people think my skin colour is weird

I feel I'm fading fast
And time is really slow
I just want to be able to see
Everything flow
Beau Grey Apr 2018
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.
shauna-leigh Jan 2018
I'm walking.
I can feel my feet touch the ground.
I am here.

I'm still walking.
I can barley tell if I'm on the ground.
Where am I.

My brain pulled the parachute,
told me to get out.
I had no say in this.

Noise is muffled,
As though I'm wearing headphones with no music playing.
Everything is a bit fuzzy.

I'm walking.
I can feel my feet on the ground.
Everything is back to how it was, and no one noticed I was gone.
Abi Odell Oct 2017
This girl
Is a construct,
Out of a fairytale.

She sounds wonderful,
Charming
Charasmatic to boot.

So, why did she leave?

Alone,

In this shell of a body,
This mask of a face,
And a voice so disjointed.

Out of place
Out of time
Out of memory
Out of love
Out of comfort
Out of hope

Look at all the old photographs,
No one could ever be so happy.

Burn to feel warm
But to no avail.

Myself?
An unreachable host
Look in the mirror
See nothing.
Grace Spellman Sep 2017
"How are you doing today?"
******* horrible, not like you give a ****.
"Great, and you?"
As if I actually give a ****
"I'm great as well, thanks for asking."
Are you lying like me? Are you secretly hurting too?
"Yeah, no problem."
I want to ******* die.
"Oh dear, you look so tired."
Probably the insomnia. Thanks for noticing.
"Yeah I haven't been going to bed on time recently."
I haven't been feeling too much recently, either.
"Aw, a routine is something you need to get into. Going to bed early will make you feel better the next day."
They said the same thing about anti-depressants, yet here we are.
"Yeah, you're right, I should probably get on top of that."
When will this conversation be over When will this conversation be over When will this conversation be over
"Well you have a nice day now!"
I won't, but thanks for the concern.
"You too! Lovely chatting with you!"
That just took every last ounce of energy I had left in my body. Oh god I'm so sick I'm so tired I need help I need help I wanna die please someone see through me and help me I need-
"Hey! How are you doing today?"
Inspired from a day when my mom picked me up from school because i was having a ****** day mental health wise , and she asked me if I was "excited to get a homecoming dress"and i said yes. Not because I actually was-because truthfully i wasnt feeling anything, I was beyond spacey and emotionless- but because I knew I shouldve been. The italics are a persons thoughts who is suffering from mental illness inbetween the sentences exchanged in a conversation.
cher Sep 2017
"


nd that's what happens, you see.
it's a blank, a simple underscore,
a line so                i can no lon


ake it anymore, i really don't know.
one day i was functioning fine, and
the next i just forgot to ta


at day, that blue bottle of hormones
and suppression                there and
i had simply left witho


s different, i was giddy and felt...
felt as though i was five again, before
i had to take these pil


trange to me, as if i had no control,
i was a child, i couldn't focus on               
and i felt myself slipping into a fatig


dn't want to mess up my dosage so
i didn't take the                when i got home,
and the next morning i did the opp


upid and dense and brainless and
foolish, because i took one                pill
than i should have and it just rui


ou see, i was already falling into this
pit of de                 and de                so
the pills just made it worse, and i sa


ate myself so much, i messed everything
up, said the wrong things, repeated the
same mistakes again, and i really shou


ld my loved ones a temporary truth, the
kind that really isn't true at all, a strange
shade of grey between truth and li


ly blame myself, it was really my fault,
that. i told them i didn't                anymore
and i don't know why i did or wh



osing myself here, i can't feel the tip of
my tongue pressing against my own teeth,
it feels like someone else's, a stran


nd it's almost as if i can't feel anymore, like
the tears i shed only weeks before no longer
mattered, like the laughs i had shar


hools should teach that it's not simply
the recreational              that harm, but
also the ones that try to help us, an


ruly am sorry, even though nothing i say
matters anymore, not when i messed up
the way i did, not when i said what i s


pe they forgive me, that they see that the
words i said were just                and that
i wasn't me, but i don't even kn


"
i did something very wrong because i messed up my dosages and depersonalisation and derealisation added with the apathy from my depression isn't good for anyone.
martha Aug 2017
It's been 6 days since my head filled with the impenetrable fog
6 days since the hands
pulling vinyls from their sleeves to place the needle on top of the grooves to play any distraction available
didn't fit my wrists the right way.
6 days since I made the conscious decision to intoxicate my brain to the point of fuzziness
and now the side-effects that embody the alcohol can't seem to stop coursing through each individual vein and artery
infecting my brain cells with rapid dexterity and a hazy heavy cloud that refuses to clear itself from my eyelids.
It's as if my whole body has been violated by a virus that has spread too quickly to identify and now every last nerve ending has ceased to send messages caused by reactions to tangible foreign bodies belonging to the world
outside my own physicality.
The feet encased inside my shoes are not my own
They no longer help me to stand with ease
or walk without stumbling
I am not here writing this
But my weakening limbs have detached themselves from the rest of me and now there are electronic mechanisms and chemical concoctions doing the job my senses have since given up on.
I am simply not me.
My teeth feel like aggressively inserted slabs of cold enamel constructed without consent behind the pair of lips that are slowly fading every day
These are not my nails scraping against the skin I no longer recognise and feel safe inside.
I feel like I am floating and everything happening around this body is affecting what it is supposed to
But I am the exception.
Every single inch of me is now wrong
Out of place
Unfamiliar and uncomfortable
All the physical feelings are now examined down to the most minuscule fragments
Heightened to the point that they are now extinct in the realm I still try to call "my" brain.
I don't want this.
I don't like this.
I want the substance that is poisoning me to drain itself from my blood
Something that now seems impossible to do.
A constant state of surreality in a more literal sense than I could have ever anticipated.
I didn't mean for this to happen.
I will never be able to identify what it was that flipped the switch labelled:
"depersonalise"
I can only make mere guesses and vague estimations as to how much longer I will have to spend inside the physical manifestation of a body from which my title of "proud owner" has been stripped.

It still comes back sometimes
In ebbs and faltering waves.
I move my hand to relieve an itch
Or follow more tablets
with a swallow of water
And for a second
it doesn't pass through my throat
my fingernails miss the bridge of my nose
my hands detach
I float without meaning to

6 days since the haze appeared

I guess I'll keep counting
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