because words slip out of me way, way too quickly

i’ll say whatever you want, okay? i’ll nod. and i’ll smile. and i’ll laugh, and i’ll probably regret it later, but whatever. and my heart pounds like i’m running out of time, and half my body feels paralyzed, and i just want to be free. so if you’ll let me out of here, i’ll be whoever you want me to be.

i’ll freeze my lungs and lie through my teeth. i’ll forget everything i ever thought i believed.

and then i’ll start to fall apart, and it’s all happening too quickly, and i’m not sure what’s really going on, but in my head it’s all just one massive car accident, and i am at the centre of it. because i did something wrong, and i know it.

and never mind, okay? forget it. what i said. it was stupid.

i penned this free-write poem after a really hard conversation. not because the topic matter was hard in any way, just because of anxiety. because my mental illness just has this way, of making the littlest things feel like the biggest deals in the world. i started to panic afterward, and… then i wrote this.

seeking after an ideal i do not know how to become

because you are a puzzle piece, and you don’t fit. and maybe all you can do is pretend it’s fine, even though it isn’t. because you are a puzzle piece. which means you’re supposed to be normal. and good at explaining things to people when they need help with shit. even though i’m crying on the kitchen floor, and i can’t figure out how to make sense of this, and my head is so heavy, and i don’t know how much longer i can handle the weight of carrying it. and honestly, i’m just making this up as i go, and i don’t know i don’t know i don’t know, and i’m standing in front of what feels like the whole world, and the weight of even being looked at is enough to make me want to explode. and so i’ll whittle myself to perfection as i stand before the mirror until this face looking back isn’t anyone i  know. and maybe if i fell, no one would even know… or maybe they all would know… and maybe they would scream, and shout, and offer hands only to then… let… go… and so i let go… and so i scream… and so i fall apart… and so i laugh because laughing is what i’m supposed to do, and because laughing is what hurts the most… and because i’m supposed to be normal, right? or no one will love me? because seriously. i don’t know.

it feels like i’m slowly shredding myself down to nothing these days. i’m trying to be perfect. i’m doing a pretty good job at meeting my outrageous expectations for myself. but when i look in the mirror, it’s hard to recognize the person looking back at me. on the worst days. i used to know how to be myself, and now… i don’t know.

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things i never said

trigger warning: insecurity, relationship anxiety, fear of abandonment

i’m not sure how to receive love because i’m so used to living in a wasteland of it. so i don’t know what to say when you say i’m wonderful. ‘cause in elementary school, my friends never really gave me compliments and usually i was just. the weird kid. i think most of the relationships in my life have been one-sided, and this is confusing and a little disorienting. i’m not sure what i’m doing, excuse me while i lock myself in the bathroom because i’m probably a bad person. and sometimes, i get insecure, and i’m honestly amazed you find anything in me worth liking. and i’m honestly amazed that you’ve seen all my darkness and you still want to be near me. and you can tell i’m having a bad day by when i’m online a lot because as long as i’m focusing on something else i can escape my brain, and as long as i’m constantly focusing on something else it’ll be all right, and they told me when i was little that i should never go in a dark alley without someone with me, and maybe you are that person who comes with me, except the monsters are my brain and they are there almost constantly, but i’ll come with you always if you need me. i’m drifting, slowly, and i need to anchor myself but when you toss out liferafts i’m too paralyzed to grab. which doesn’t mean i’ll be paralyzed forever, it just means i’m having a bad day because there were too many feelings and too many mistakes, and i can’t handle this heavy weight. i can’t handle this heavy weight and i’m sorry if i’m dumping on you. i’m sorry, if i’m supposed to be different this is all i’ve got. this is all there is. my accomplishments are a candlelight i cast out and pride is a river i am desperately trying to drown in. and i want to be proud of myself. i want to wrap myself up in my arms and i want to be all right. but the idea of that is so large, and i don’t know how to even get started, wrapping that around my mind. i am standing at the centre of the sky and i’m trying to comprehend what’s happening and i’m trying to be a good person i’m trying to be perfect, even though i don’t feel perfect. because then it’ll be all right. and i’m scared of you leaving and i’m scared of you not coming back. and why are we all leaving? where are you going?


the first time i eat lunch in front of other people

trigger warning: insecurity, body image issues, fear of abandonment

does my body disgust you? does the humanness of needing to eat three meals a day disgust you? do you notice, how awkward i am when i talk and i laugh and i dodge out of arguments and can all of this just stop now it’s too much to breath through? and does it make your skin crawl? does it make you want to leave me because i am scared you want to leave me. i am scared i am not enough for me. am i just. not. good enough for you. now that i’m human am i. just. too. much for you. now that i’m not perfect. now that i am the vegan. i am the one who’s different. i know i am weird. please. don’t think i’m an idiot. the scribbled edges of my skin blur and it’s hard to breathe again. i’m a messy drawing. i’m six years old again. ii’m a mess of screams stuffed back into the cardboard box. is it all right if i start bleeding? is it all right if my hands are shaking? is it all right, that the compulsions are curled up in my chest they are monsters, about to creep in? i’m sorry, i too wish i didn’t have a body. i am a crumpled piece of paper, and all i’m trying to do is smooth myself out in front of you, except my brain is screaming, and you feel like wilting flowers in my fingers, and it takes me a moment to realize that you aren’t going to leave me because it feels like you’re going to leave me because it feels like everything is going to leave me because my stomach is so empty, and i don’t want you to see that when i get home i gorge on everything like the void cares about being fed. i am clinging onto you like lifelines, and i hate that. i am not a robot, but i want to be, because i can’t do this tonight, or tomorrow, or the next day. i am not a robot, and the pressure of this is so heavy, and it feels like it’s about to shatter me, and it could just be that i’m tired and i’m thirsty but i think i need to run away and i can’t think clearly. and i can’t stop typing, because if you’re reading this please take it from me: do not starve yourself of what you want more than anything in an attempt to stop needing, because you do realize that every time i left myself in the dark of my mind, it only made me more empty, and pain is not something anyone can ever stop feeling, and i feel like someone went into my mind and kind of ruined everything, and then i realize someone is me, and then i realize the monster is me. my compulsions are strangling me. i think maybe i can’t do this because i want to hide from the burning pressure of your eyes. i am standing at the edge of this cliff and it feels like every small autumn breeze is trying to bury me. i’m still learning how to be a person. i’m still learning how to be a friend but it’s difficult because i think you have to leave yourself to do that. and i’m still learning how to escape the desperation and the loneliness, and every single internal storming ocean. and i’m trying, and i’m making progress. i just. need. a moment. but i still hope that’s all right. is that all right? do you still want me?

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wattpad and other updates on my life

trigger warning: depersonalization, anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts

hello people! so over the past couple  days i have been a nervous wreck, which is probably because of the new wattpad account; i’m not good with new changes in my life and at first i generally throw myself way too much into them and then wonder why i’m at the verge of a mental breakdown.

i’ve been finished all my schoolwork (i homeschool, but take one class at the local high school) for a week now, which means i have a ton of spare time coming up. so far i’ve been pretty much nonstop busy, between running this blog and my wattpad account (let alone touching any of my other social media) i haven’t had that much time to myself. also, compulsions are time-consuming, which really doesn’t help. like, i’ll be trying to write, and then i’ll decide to check my wattpad in case there are new notifications or views or something. only five minutes later, i’ll need to check it again, and again, and again. i can kind of manage it, and i’m working on it, but…. sometimes, i feel like you can’t heal from something until you face it head on, even if that means repeating that action. running away from my feelings isn’t that simple, and i’m trying to stop doing that, but GAH. it’s like, whenever my mind senses that my heart (emotional cortex, whatever you want to call it) feels too much, its immediate response is to panic and shut down and try its hardest to go numb to it. like, i have this problem with being controlled. so whenever i feel like a figure of authority (usually my parents) might try to control me, i shut down and immediately go numb to everything. i’m not sure if that’s depersonalization or not. this is hard to describe without using poetry, but it feels like the part of me that is me–my soul, my heart, my brain, whatever–is being pulled slowly out of my body, and what’s left is just a husk. it’s empty. and trying to help myself through that is, of course, really difficult, because i’ll be trying to reason with myself and in response to myself, i’ll just be like “but why should i do this calming thing, my feelings don’t matter at all and i am just a speck in the cosmos and i will die and DID I TELL YOU YOU ARE A WORTHLESS UNLOVABLE PILE OF CRAP??” and the cycle will go on. usually, i write it out to distract myself… but it’s painstaking. and difficult. honestly, even thinking about it is difficult for me, because if i do i’m usually pretty prone to sliding into that feeling. i had a couple weeks last month where i honestly felt like i was done with that feeling. now, it feels like it’s coming back to me again. i’m not sure what that means.

it feels like, to me, there’s this box of sadness that’s constantly in my chest. and most of the time, i’m fine, because all this sadness is kept below the surface. but sometimes that box of sadness gets opened up. and then i kind of explode, i guess. so is that depression? because whenever i think about that word, it feels like…. like i’m standing in the middle of a fog. and when i try to write about that feeling, in short stories or poetry, it comes innately. so do i spend all day feeling sad? no. i can function. i can get up and take showers and write poems and maintain a social life with people who i really care about and get my schoolwork done and most of the time, i don’t even think about it. but sometimes, that box of sadness gets just a little bit open, everything comes crashing down, and it’s all i can do to hold myself back from the edge. that place is where most of my poetry comes from.

i feel like that’s probably a coping mechanism i developed when i was younger. when i was six when i first started having suicidal thoughts. i feel like when you’re that young when mental illness really starts to hit (before that i was irritable and anxious, but not depressed)… you can’t get through that without burying it, a little bit, which is what i consciously did. when i was nine, i decided that i wasn’t going to show anyone how i felt, that i wasn’t going to be broken and sad anymore. and most of the time, it worked. but i would also explode. i remember one time my teacher was yelling at me and i panicked so bad that i ended up scraping my skin to the point of bleeding with a ruler. since then, writing has helped me learn a lot about how to express myself and has made me a lot more conscious of my feelings. but part of me is still that nine-year-old kid who is determined not to be dragged down or labeled or seen by anyone else as weak for what they’ve been through, or different. a part of me that has so many feelings, and no idea how to deal with it.

i guess that’s why i write. and it is getting better, it’s just… slow. and although i can see my progress looking backward, in the moment, it’s easy to forget that.

okay, on a more technical note, i have four stories on wattpad now. one of them is fanfiction, because i am a nerd, so i won’t give you the link to that one. the other ones are short stories, two of which are ongoing and one of which is finished. check out my profile here: read heroes here. read the sleep here. and read to the person whose virus infected my computer here.

today, POEMS WENT UP!! read them here, here, here, and here. i’ll be posting more on monday, and i promise to make up for the dump of emotional vomit and sadness there will be another happy one. 🙂

i hope you’re all doing all right. just in case you’re not, here’s a list of crisis lines. (it’s from wattpad support, but it’s the best masterlist i’ve been able to find on the internet so far, so just ignore the first part and scroll down.) you are not alone in this. ❤

big hug and deep breath,