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Grace Conde Jan 31
Tenebrous days in which it feels as though you will never be happy again; nothing is wrong, but nothing is right. You spend all day switching between uncontrollable crying and complete and utter emotional numbness, feeling stuck in time, as though everything is moving in slow motion. For you are trapped underwater, and all of your energy is put into just keeping your head afloat above the murky water.

Black ink running though your veins, coughing for air, you fear the darkness inside you is contagious. Slowly sinking, ears ringing, muscles aching, bloodshot eyes, your head throbbing every time you blink.

You watch the light dance across the room as the days fade into dusk, closing your eyes, and letting the shadows cover you like a blanket. And you beg, you plead, you pray, that the next breath you take will be your last.
talia Oct 2018
sometimes
i don't even want to die
but my mind
will tell me otherwise
my mind will say
"ask to use the bathroom
then jump from the stairs"
or
"make yourself a sandwich
and use the knife to cut yourself open"
or
"use hangers for your clothing
and the belt for yourself"
and it's not like i never tried
to fix this mind of mine
but my oh my
how the days have passed me by
and i am tired
so the stairs look nice
and so does the knife
and i haven't quite felt
the warm embrace of a belt
around my neck
is it my time yet?
seasonal depression is in full swing this year lads
"I can't read you my poetry,"
I say completely astonished:
"That's what confident people do,"
I hear myself say to an empty room.

("Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness, the second one is looking for it")

Should I start to feel ashamed?
Because when people tell me I'm not confident now,
I want to scream that they're to blame,
And not for my so called "lack of self-confidence", only for their lies:
Because, I can be very confident sometimes,
I just probably won't tell you about it,
I don't want you to know,
If you thought I was so sure of myself, then that would make me low.

(I'm not speaking to myself though,
I'm simply conversing with people that you don't know are there,
And that's okay because,
I only do it noticeably when I'm alone.
They may not be real, but they exist to me,
Even more so than you and I.)

And yes, I know, that I have my moments;
I know what that feels like;
To question yourself and be convinced that
You're doing everything wrong,
I've had way too many times to recount to you,
But I also know, many occasions where I've secretly taken control back,
Where deep down, I know that I am kind of okay,
And I don't appreciate you questioning that,
Unless that's what I'm purposely trying to make you do.
-And maybe I'm slowly starting to ascertain, or wonder
That it's actually a bit manipulative,
And the fact I do it to make myself feel better
Is kind of messed up,
But honestly? It didn't seem like that when I did it,
I thought it was natural to be self-protective.
Supervening once again,
I'm agitated, unsettled,
Suspecting to be taken by it:
The madness, insanity, instability
But -
Mostly just the hurt,
And wonder, discomfort from the lacking.

It steals me
Yet I can never take ahold of it,
It leaves me confused, crying and abandoned once more,
It never resists,
Success this has against me
As I am held hostage.

Where am I?
In my mind which I can't empty.
I guess at least,
This way I'm inflicting this sorrow on myself,
So in a twisted way I'm in control,
Except I'm not:

Because I don't always want to run and hide -
Well actually I do, most of the time,
But I want this to be true
Or to be capable of staying in reality.
What I'm doing is a messed up thing,
Because whilst escaping real life I bring those painful situations,
Back into my world of comfort,
Just so I can battle with them some more.

If this is some type of war,
I think I'll die fighting,
And no one will be winning,
As I'm the only enemy.
I feel it's pull again,
Like gravity I can't avoid it,
Do I gather my defences,
Attempt to make the peace last a little longer?

Only if I forget something:
That this is my defence
Yet it never needs a reason to grasp me,
Making me crumble under its fix.

Slowly? I ask,
Just one more breath lasting in reality?
Slowly? - gone.
And I won't be coming back for as long as
The storm inside my head lasts.

The truth about this is,
It doesn't like being ignored.
I could try to distract myself,
Only it would never be successful
Once it's on it's way it won't leave you,
Not until it's satisfied and
You're weeping all alone,
Because all that's just happened to you
Is nothing to anyone at all.
Explains my experience of Maladaptive Daydreaming.
It's so hard when you've been hiding
to come out of it again.
You can't do it
You can't do it
You can't do it,
But you've done it before so no one cares.
Somehow you'll push through it and suddenly you've added it once more,
Realistically they know that you'll do it again,
But this isn't realistic because it's about the imaginary.

You build yourself a home,
And tell yourself it's safe,
Then you disappear there for most waking hours of the day,
Then you have breaks from school when you should do revision and work,
You want to try so hard, so hard
Because you want to finally prove you can
You can be smart.
But you can't pull away from this,
You're trapped inside and you want to stay there,
The world keeps screaming at you that you're doing it all wrong.
You already know that but you keep going along;
It's that way or no way;
The world won't let you stop
No matter how hard you beg.

The home you've devised by yourself
Is filled with what you want and things you're scared of,
People you love so arduously
Yet continue absently,
Catastrophic events that break your heart
Even though they never came to be.

So you're screaming at the real walls surrounding you
Back in the harsh reality where nothing's as you want it,
Crying out that you want them here with you;
That it's the only way you'll get through;
Your whole world depends on these ******, dejected, lovely, astute
Daydreams.
And to everyone else you could attempt to explain this to,
That is all they are:
Daydreams.
When the only thing you want,
Is for them to be reality.
I see his face inside my head,
Scenes flash in front of me
And then I realise it's all just
Make-believe.
I'm thinking about making some 'to-do lists'
But you've already taken me.
I hope I can reclaim my once used productivity.

You mean everything to me,
Such as the whole universe with all its highlights
And none of its pain within a person,
It only could be you and you throw all of the negatives away.

When I need someone to catch me before I fall,
Hold my hand and assure me that I will never lose it all,
You're always here ready to save me
From my own self-destruction without ever calling me crazy.

Maybe you're the air I crave to breathe,
Invisible and somewhere that I can never be.
If I could have one wish come true for Christmas:
Then you would actually be my forever and all eternity,
In real life, not just a bittersweet dream.
Maybe one day you could come
And all this dimness, disaster and darkness could vanish.
I don't know what it is but only my mind can cure it,
Except imagination isn't real
And that's why I need you to turn up
And steal
All the things wrong with me;
All the feelings I'm not supposed to feel;
The ones I don't know I feel,
And replace them with ones I used to hope I'll one day feel.

Eventually, will you be here?
If I think hard enough,
Pray all night long,
Sacrifice myself to God,
Would you finally come to me?
Stand right in front of me and be you,
Just as I see right now?
I don't think I can live outside of you,
Please won't you live in my life too?
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