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.

"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?"

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

What else could we do
except watch the world around us?
How could we voice thoughts we do not know?
And Sometimes we just can't cope,
Yet we can't bring ourselves to admission.
So we fixate on what can never be real,
Because it stops and seals us from realisation.
We derealised from the world we're supposed to know,
Instead we escape to where we can never go.