Feelings

Since nobody reads this blog and I stopped telling people about it long ago, I figured why the fuck not type/talk about my feelings to the void. I've been feeling pretty depressed recently. Lifes really fucking difficult at the moment. The UK has gone into a third lockdown as Covid rages rapid like a burning forest fire in the middle of a one hundred degree heatwave, I'm currently staying with my parents (NIGHTMARE) and my anxiety makes me feel like hearts going to fail on a daily basis. The fucking stress of being down at my parents and my mental health being in the pits and them not understanding is so fucking ahhhhhhhhh. That's the only way I can describe it. I've told them about my anxiety and ocd and depression but they honestly act like I'm talking shit, It's so frustrating and draining. I'm excited to get back to my flat and have my independence back. I thought coming down to parents for Christmas would help me on my way to getting better but I feel like things have gotten worse. I've been struggling with weed/thc addiction and I was doing really well for a while there. Then my friend invited me to a party and they were smoking and cause I find it really difficult to say no to weed I was like,"yea why the fuck not, I'll be okay and I won't get back into it". But I did get back into and it's fucking up my mental health and my life. It sucks away my motivation, makes me feel depressed and anxious, and feels pretty much terrible all round. I only go back to it for the way music sounds and this nice warm feeling I sometimes get, apart from that I hate it. It's made my anxiety so bad that when I leave the house and I see other people or go to the shops I feel really sick and my heart beats really fast and I wish I was invisible. I only really go out if it's dark because there's less people about. I feel like being in lockdown has made my anxiety worse, what with not being allowed out and all that. Not being able to see people, not being able to have a routine-not one in the traditional sense of commuting anyways, etc. I've been thinking a lot about killing myself recently. I know exactly what I'd do. I don't necessarily want to die but I'm not afraid of it. My anxiety's been so bad recently and I've gotten through it before but it's feeling pretty incessant at the moment. The fact that my college course is online at the moment is really difficult too. We have to have our cameras on for all of our classes and I can always see myself and what I look like and I hate it. I mean I don't hate myself as a person, I think I'm okay in that department but the way I look omg. I always feel like why am I subjecting people to this. They're just trying to attend their class and I'm sitting there looking all weird and shit. I'm also really self-conscious of my facial expressions, I feel like I'm always pulling all these weird faces cause my face sometimes responds to what I'm thinking and that I'm rolling my eyes about cause they also respond to what I'm thinking. Maybe I'm overthinking it but the point is I'm struggling with always seeing myself. In my flat, I only have one mirror and it's tiny....this shit is hard. I'm really looking forward to going back to my flat cause then I can play my xbox and not be triggered by the smell of weed all the time and just chill in my own vibey vibes. I know now that I can stop weed on my own in my own flat cause I'll be in own nice vibey vibes. This entry is a mess, thank you void for listening to my mishmash of woes. I'm shattered, gonna try and get some sleep. I hope my dreams are amazing.

Night night xx

The Virus

An unseen hunter,

it stalks its prey.

So small and invisible,

hard to believe,

there's a chance it could be deadly. 

Wash your hands and stay inside,

your only protector.

Beware the unseen hunter.

Protect the old

and protect the young.

Protect the sick

and the healthy too.

But even then,

your not certain to be safe.

Beware the unseen beast.

Time

Time doesn't stop for anyone.
Not you, not me, not your loved ones.
You can take certain substances that might change the way you perceive it but it won't stop.

There are many uncertainties in life, many unanswered questions.
So many things that we don't know, the things we do being somewhat incomprehensible in and of themselves.

Time doesn't stop for anyone and we're all going to die.

When I was 13 I started to get depressed about time, so much so that I missed out on a lot (of time) because of it. I was doing a drama summer school and I think I was due to go into 3rd year in the coming August. I remember we were doing our morning warm-up and as I was turning round~I'm not sure what we were doing~it suddenly struck me about, time. I was going to be 14 in the new school year and I suddenly wondered, 'where has the time gone? How did I get here?
I know how I physically got to the class that morning.
But not how had I traveled through time so quickly, how had the years flown by so fast?

It seemed like one minute I'd been a child and then suddenly I was going into my first "serious" year of high school, reflecting in that moment.
That was when I started getting depressed about time moving too fast, I remember asking loads of people~family members~about how they experienced time.
Does it keep getting faster? Yes.
Well, maybe it doesn't actually go faster but you perceive it as going faster as you age.
Perhaps not everyone perceives it that way but many do.
I think its perhaps repetition, that makes it seem faster.
Doing the same things over and over again: the same occupation every day, the same route to and from, the same hobbies, clubs.

I'm gonna stop with the above subject for now as, if I think about it too much it starts to fuck with my head. I end up spiraling and getting stuck beneath the infinite cascading waves of thought, and depression.

I will say though that ever since then, the depression lasted a lot longer than the aforementioned catalyst thought, I have been very analytical about how I perceive life. I've always been very analytical but this made me more so. I also think that perhaps I think too much, which has been bad for me mentally but I think that it might help me to do well for myself. I also have a lot more ways to cope with the bad side of things-spiraling-than I used to, when I was younger, which is a definite game-changer.

{Update:
You as the reader, are probably wondering wtf I'm jabbering on about and all I can say is that I was amidst the crimson waves and feeling very emotional and reflective. I was having a wee blub to myself, thinking about how far I've come in life. I used to get so depressed and stressed out about time passing by, I was so scared that one day I'd look up and my memories-or any pictures I had-would be the only proof that I'd lived. That I'd go from 14 to 50 in the blink of an eye, having done nothing with my life because I was too depressed and scared of everything. It's taken me a while but I can now say that I'm okay with time passing by. It only feels like it passes by in the blink of an eye in retrospect. Looking back, you won't remember everything...you'll remember key events...things that stuck in your mind. Those things will condense down and everything will seem like it's sort of wooshed by. But at the same time, every experience, every home, every old friend or acquaintance will feel lifetimes ago. When you learn to live in the moment, the passage of time, no matter it's speed doesn't seem so daunting anymore. I think I secretly wanted time to go by faster when I was younger, I wanted it to go by faster so that I could grow up, leave school and home and be me without other peoples judgments. I also wanted to be accepted for me. It's taken a while to get here but in the last year, I've been more me than I have been in a long time. I started practicing mindfulness techniques, around a year ago in order to try and enhance my experience and lucidity whilst dreaming, and I've found that they've also really helped me to live more in the moment. You might know a bit about mindfulness, if you don't, I basically do things like, if I'm walking through town, I look at things around me. I observe and notice things around me, look at them, like really look at them, think of its colours, what it's made of, how old it is, it's history. From looking up from my phone and looking at the world around me, I've noticed things like.....how beautiful the buildings in Glasgow (town) are, some of them have pillars like they were built in Roman times-probably not but one likes to imagine-and others have gorgeous Edwardian style roofs and balconies. Becoming consciously aware of things you can see, hear, feel, smell and taste. In becoming more mindful of my human experience and the environment around me, I have spent less and less time on social media, my phone and subsequently, the internet. Spending less time online has helped me to get back in touch with things I used to enjoy when I was younger-like reading and drawing-before everyone had a computer in their pocket that they were constantly lost in. By simply spending less time online-it wasn't simple at all, it took a lot of time and reflection-and doing things I enjoy and finding a purpose, I feel like I've grown to be at peace with the passage of time. I lost someone very important to me at the end of last year and it broke my heart, I felt powerless. There was nothing I could do, I couldn't bring them back. As much as it still hurts me today. that loss has helped me to understand and be more at peace with the cycle of life. Time doesn't stop for anyone and we're all going to die but that's just the way life works. People die every day but people are also born every day. Time will go by and I'll grow old and I'll die one day but that's just the way life is. Nobody can live forever, even if one could, you would lose a lot more than your mortality. I'll probably learn and experience enough that by the time the time comes I'll be accepting of death, like it's okay, I'm ready to move on now...ready to experience whatever's next. What I'm getting at here, is that I've accepted that time is just a part of life, a very important part but still simply a cog in the machine of life. By dwelling in it and not accepting it, I caused the machine to malfunction but by accepting it, things are running a lot more smoothly. 02/07/2019}

******

It's that time~haha~ of the month again....I feel like shit, I can't stop crying and~the delightful cherry on top~my ovaries feel like they're slowly working there way up the inside of my body to strangle me from the inside-out. It's also fucking boiling but the sky looks like it's got a storm a-brewin'.

I feel like death.

I hope y'all are having a wonderful, hopefully not horrendously humid (Satur)day!

The Monster

*TRIGGER WARNING*

An eating disorder is a monster

that hijacks your mind, body, and soul.

It eats away at your brain,

making sure that every day there's less of you left.

Taking away every fragment of you.

Replacing each discarded piece

with a piece of itself.

Each action, interaction

is dictated by the beast. 

Everything that makes you unique

sucked away into an endless vacuum. 

It takes your voice

and locks it away.

So no matter how loud you scream,

how long you beg it to stop,

no one will never hear you.

It ensures that any relationship,

apart from the one between you and it,

is cut. 

Or at the very least

kept at arm's length.

It takes everything

until the only way to get rid of it,

is to get rid of you.

Dermatillomania

When I’m feeling 

stressed,

anxious,

depressed.

I pick at my skin,

it always helps,

I dunno why.

I’m always picking away,

squeezing away,

all the imperfections.

Making imperfections,

while removing them.

I think there imperfections

but 

they might not be there.

I always think,

‘What if I’ve got skin cancer,

I need to squeeze out the skin cancer’.

I think there’s something wrong with me 

cause 

I don’t think others think like this.

Claw at their skin,

with fear of disease.

All the while,

most likely,

creating disease.

My Voice

*TRIGGER WARNING*

I wrote this last night when I was drunk, quite a running theme for when I write emotional poetry...the only time I can write about bad stuff that's happened...which probably isn't great.
Anyhoo....here it is:

Please don't talk to me,

Please talk to me,

I'm sorry I'm not here,

I checked out a while ago.

I always want to talk to people,

but I can't.

I feel that when the bad thing happened,

his dick stole my voice,

stole an essential part of my soul.

Lots of terrible things happened before that,

but after that,

that one particular night,

2 hours to be exact,

I couldn't find it within myself to talk,

to even look at others.

It's like,

everything that happened just took over,

became an unbudging boulder,

over everything.

Leaving only a half-assed attempt mask of who I was before.

Thankfully most people can't see through it,

Can't see how truly destroyed I am.

How much I'm not really here.

******

This poem is about rape and about how he took so much more than my dignity. I feel like my dignity was somewhat easier to get back....I think. This is really difficult to write (talk) about.

I think people think that I'm being rude when I don't talk to them or run away from them when they try to speak to me but that's really not the case...I get afraid...terrified that people can see how much pain I'm in. I also can't socialise the way I used to anymore, I can't strike up casual conversation, I can't joke around and laugh at trivial things anymore, I'm afraid that people can see how awkward and different I am now. I don't like meeting up with people I knew before because I think they can sense that I'm not the same and I want to be the person that they knew but I'm really not. I also used to be really good at making new friends, starting up conversations from nowhere but even that's harder than making cheese out of playdough. A lot of the time I also just don't have anything to say, like all my words, my ability to make words has been taken away, sucked into an endless unforgiving vacuum. The effort it takes to try and pretend that the worst thing that could have possibly happened didn't indeed happen is astronomically tiring. It makes me want to spend all my time alone because then I don't have to speak, don't have to put on an act, I can just breathe and be me. Me who is now very quiet.

(I feel I should add this; CBD oil has helped me deal with these issues quite a bit and I'm on a journey to getting my good auld sociable self back but it's still really difficult and I've got a really long way to go. I can, at the very least, say that I am trying and I try to take each day as it comes. I guess all you can do is try and hopefully one day you'll get to your destination.
I'm also still able to talk to close friends, some family members, and a few workers, which I'm very thankful for but I can't go through my whole life being mute around everyone else, especially when I'd love to talk to everyone.)

I don't know if any of this makes sense but I know that nobody really reads this so I guess it doesn't have to make sense. I guess I'm using this as a coping mechanism and nobody else has to view it for it to work for me.

I wish I could share this with more people but I feel so up my own arse sharing the link, like I think it's great and I'm proud of myself for being able to write about stuff but I think/worry that I'm oversharing and people just want me to shut the fuck up. 

I hope that anyone who reads this enjoys it and has a wonderful day. :)

I'm Sorry

I wish I could go and visit you.

I'm sorry for all the times that I didn't.

I was scared because you were ill,

I was scared.

So scared that you were going to die that I couldn't even see you.

Pathetic.

If I could go back in time,

I'd come see you every day.

I'd make sure that you knew I loved you,

that we got to spend time together.

Instead of sitting,

getting stoned,

trying to pretend it wasn't happening.

Trying to kill my own pain,

rather than putting my time to good use,

by spending time with you,

cherishing the time of a clock that was about to stop. 

I'm sorry Granny,

I'm sorry for not visiting you,

until the almost end.

Without you,

I feel like there's no point in anything,

no point in getting up

unless I'm making you proud.

On the days that I'm not at college,

working towards my goal,

I feel nothing but 

sadness, 

guilt, 

shame,

that I'm not doing enough,

to be the best I can be.

I want to be the best for me,

but I also want to be the best for you.

I want to make you proud,

but I also want to make me proud.

I just want to be the best I can be.

The best friend, daughter, sister.

The best I can be.

******

I wrote this the other night when I was, for lack of a better term, mwi. Obviously, there's a little bit of exaggeration but I do feel on the days that I'm not really doing anything that I'm wasting time...time that I could be using to create or work towards my career goals. I do have good days and they're happening more often but I also have bad days and weeks but I guess it's all part of the journey that is life.

I hope you enjoy reading it.

I hope y'all are having a wonderful Thursday 😊