Hides the dirt

Do you think we’re meant to be happy? I mean really happy, that feeling of joy which is supposed to grip and hold on to you like a vice. A warm embrace more than a vice to be honest. I need a warm embrace that’s just platonic. One that lets me be. Maybe that would be nice, maybe I’ll stop writing as though I’m losing my mind even though that’s what it feels like. I’m losing my mind. maybe. I don’t think it’s like losing it like the way it slips from you. I’m just losing my ability to feel what’s real and what’s a delusional.

I’m losing my grip, I’m not sure what i can do to stabilize it.

The rain is spikes

The rain is spikes, beating down on me, hurting me to the core of my soul with a freezing wave so powerful it threatens to shatter me. The rain is red, it bleeds for me calling to me saying to me to come home to it. Just once, come home to the things that you find comforting, the same things that draw lines across your skin like never ending highways painted red. Do you think I could travel those highways riding on this high?

I’m riding on a high right now, coming of from relapsing like the fool I am but I’m a fool who craved this for such a long time and finally had the payout I needed. I got the relief and catharsis these things tend to bring. Though I feel so isolated, when I do those things the world shrinks around me and brings me into this serene calm. The same serene calm you feel right before taking the plunge into more destructive behaviour. But I am flying so high right now, I can’t come down. I don’t want to come down. I need to keep going.

Or is it something I just want? I write without thinking because I’m honest when I don’t think about the words to say. I’m not biased and nothing’s been thought of beforehand to edit out or change to make it seem more appealing. You know what the voices tell me? You know what Ana whispers to me? When she’s not telling me that I’m nothing? and no one will love or mourn for me when I pass, you stupid fat cow. You fatty, how I miss not eating. How I is the feeling of an empty stomach before a hard workout. I don’t get pleasure from exercise, I use it for pain.

I seem like a real fucked in the head kind of person, don’t I. I just do everything for pain, everything to suffer. /but I rather now suffer think than suffer while being overweight. I’ll just have to deal with the trauma around a smaller body, the trauma so sexual in nature and so wrong that I have nightmares about it. “You’re the right size” will echo through my head like fire. Fire that burns in oil, oil on water. Fire that refuses to be quenched. I just don’t know how to solve my own issues but maybe I can die one day soon and let the universe absorb me back into herself, and make me whole once again.

That’s what I crave, a maddening end to these mad mad thoughts I’m having. I know where this is leading me, I know where this is taking me. And I can’t stop the ride, I’m bound to it.

I can’t

The cost is too much than I can bear. I’ve tried but I’ve sunk so low. I know it sounds like a Sarah McLachlan song, maybe that describes how I feel right now. I feel unhealable. I don’t know when the sun will come out tomorrow for me. I just so want to hold that blade in my hand and run it until it all feels numb. Numb and better and in control. I can’t remember the last time I had any semblance of control, you know? I feel trapped and not in a very good way. I feel trapped where I want to jump right out of my skin and get as far away as possible. Rus says it’s natural I’d feel that way, I’m not equipped for some things. Like now. When did she get to being called Rus, that’s interesting.

I wish I could give her more. I wish I was who she felt she needed to be. Trapped in a slow sinking medium. It’s thicker than pitch, thicker than the blood clotting factors working to bind those wounds, even the ones that would not heal. Nothing appeals to me anymore. I often wonder what’s the point of my life when things are just so bleak for the most part. How do you go into functioning from that perspective? How do you go on?

I’m trying my best. I keep repeating it like a fucking broken record. I know I shouldn’t curse but what’s left for me at this point. I can’t do anything, I need privacy, I need space. I need to be alone. For a long while. I need that, I need the isolation that worsens my depression because I crave hurting myself so badly. I crave destroying who I am as a person and I wish I could feel shame but I feel nothing but emptiness and sadness. It’s never ending and I can’t seem to fight it off anymore. I’ve been taking such a beating that I don’t know when I’ll have time to recover from it all.

There doesn’t seem a way to be redeemed.

I don’t think I’m worth it or deserving of it. I don’t know what i deserve. But maybe it’s suffering. Maybe it’s this never ending cycle of building up and breaking down and hurting oneself over and over again. God please give me a shred of relief from the nightmare of right now. Please give me a decent dose of pain to relieve the symptoms I feel. I’m on fire, I’m on fire and I’m losing grip on things.

August 23, 2021

I was doing this course that said downward spirals seem to last for an eternity and I should look to create an upward spiral featuring one particular positive emotion. One of the ten positive emotions from this positive psychology course. It’s so funny that she says it’s harder to create this upward spiral because I have no fucking clue what some of these emotions truly feel like. At least I don’t remember what they feel like though I suppose I’m really good at miming emotions that aren’t negative. Sigh, I feel the negative emotions so strongly.

Flipping through a journal Rus uses to sketch things, hoping to sketch this psychosis into reality into the paper and away from y fragile spirit right now. I’m feeling like I could just break at any moment, it’s so fucking sad, isn’t it? Isn’t it?

I spent all this time and all this effort to be triggered be a razor blade in the journal. Rus, you dirty motherfucking self harmer. You’re lucky you get to indulge in that without the shame and guilt and feelings of desperate loneliness that comes along with it. I’m actually jealous of a perceived alternate personality’s ability to harm themself, I can’t believe it myself. but this is the price of being ill, this alienation away from everyone else

I’m tired

I’m really tired you know? I just want some relief from this. I want to just not feel guilty and I just want to be neurotypical, functioning, useful. As is, I’m not much use to anyone, am I now. I just think it’s all fucked from here on out. I need something more, I need something more than fucking weed. I’m tired of being high, it doesn’t make me less sad. It doesn’t make me less suicidal. I just makes me feel different and a bit functional and that’s it.

01 August 2021

How many years have i had this blog, how many posts have I made where I’ve said the same thing over and over again, an endless loop. A record that refuses to die. I’m alone, I feel alone and I usually live my life in a way that would suggest me being alone for the most part. There’s no way to feel like I fit in anywhere, like I belong to my body or to my life.

When I talk to Ana or Rus, they say the same thing back to me, all we have is each other. We don’t need anyone else in this world. We just have to go back to how it was before, relying on no one to help us. When they tell me that there’s nothing out there for me, I see it. I see what they mean. They aren’t safe out there, no one cares for them. They are part of me, by some strange extension, what affects them affects me subconsciously. Or at least that’s how I’d like to think it is. The truth is I don’t know.

I don’t know who’s really on my side or not and it’s good that I don’t trust anyone like that. Whenever I think I could trust someone, they show me that it’s wrongly placed. I’m too fucked in the head for friends, family, support networks. I feel too broken to be fixed, too rock bottom to ever climb out, what’s that feel like? Someone experience it and tell me, there’s nothing but rain filling the hole I’m in and I’m drowning right now. Where’s my happy ending? Where’s my will to live?

I’m trying, honestly trying to keep that calm facade, that calm shell but I don’t have the energy to build and maintain it. I don’t have the energy to get through most of my days. I just want to lay in bed and do nothing, eat nothing and sleep. I want to hurt my body so badly one way or the other but there’s no privacy, no opportunity. Maybe it’s a good thing to the masses but to me, I need relief. I need a break, I need blood and pain and everything in between. I need the shame that comes along with it. I need to be as broken as I feel but there’s no way that can happen right now, not in this house. I am trapped here.

I’m trapped in my mind, the constant swirling into darkness. I’m trapped in my body, a machine that I’ve ruined and broken down, a machine I don’t want to inhabit. I’m trapped in a home with a man that doesn’t deserve this broken person in their life, they deserve someone neurotypical.

30 July 2021

I don’t know where to begin anymore. I don’t know what avenues I can take at this point. everything feels very overwhelming and I constant find myself underwater. I’m long past struggling and gasping to breath, the air has long escaped the clutches of my lungs. There is no sweet embrace of oxygen for my being.

It would be nice to be underwater where the sunlight filters through and the fish are beautiful, corals growing through my bones and anchoring me to a reef. A gentle current sweeping aorund me, unpolluted and serene. I like that calm image, having been in the majesty of the reefs before, there is nothing on this planet like it. That’s not where I lie. It feels like the north sea in the Atlantic during a harsh winter storm, swirling and swirling and swirling around me, chaos seemingly unending. The surface of the waters could not hold me and I drifted lower and lower and lower still into the midnight zone. There’s nothing but darkness and great fear around me, inside me. I feel nothing but that descent into the pit. I’ve yet to hit the sea floor but I know it’s coming, I know it’s there waiting for me. Maybe even then, I might be swallowed up and taken further into the Earth’s mantle until I find myself trapped in the magma.

Ha, it’s really something when you think about it, isn’t it? It’s really a never ending feeling of falling to my death yet death still cannot reach me. What’s life’s real meaning these days? What’s the new facade I need to wear in order to fit right in? What’s anything at this point to the person who has nothing left they want to live for. there’s nothing for me, just companionship but that isn’t doing any good. I had to have been a fool to think the content feeling I had before would stay, I chalk it up to the after effects of endorphins. If I think about it too long, I grimace in a knowing way. It doesn’t take me any thought to admit it, there is no escape from this depression. There is no escape from the others in my head who ruin my life.

They’ve ruined it or really I should say I’ve ruined it. They are an extension of myself, really. They’re me but different forms, ages, spaces but the face remains the same. I remain the same at the end of the day, even if it’s not me at the helm. I don’t expect people to really understand it all, I don’t understand most of it myself but maybe in October when I see the damned psychiatrist again, I’ll have some more answers. Or not, maybe medication will be the same effect, out of mind, out of body and on the road to self-harm through it all. It’s not that unpalatable really, it’s just a means to an end. I deserve to feel something, anything. I deserve to not be reactive or too numb, I deserve that sense of calm that comes with the bleeding and the burning of those cuts. But maybe that’s the toxic habits talking again, those demons in my mind that want for me to do it. They want for me to go back to how it was, engaging in those things to make myself feel good or feel at peace with things. But I don’t have any privacy, I share space with someone and until my own room is finalized, I have no choice in much of the matter. The good thing is, it keeps me from thinking my own thoughts too much. It keeps me distracted long enough to keep me away from harm for now. It doesn’t always wrok though, the urge is strong at times. It calls me, it calls me to embrace it all again

August 8th 2020

It’s 3 am, a tropical wave is passing over us. I’m sitting in the doorway to my apartment, the cool air from the outside contrasting with the warmth of inside. My cat is busy eating one of the plants outside, threatening to kill the seedlings with his ravenous hunger for fiber. It’s dark, lightning lighting the sky ablaze every few minutes, thunder rumbling gently in the distance.

Despite the pandemic around us, the world is at peace in this moment. My world is at peace and I think to my own trauma and my healing.

I used to think it was simple, face your problems and face it head on. even when my depression worsened, I told myself “You can make it out of this rut” but that was a lie. It’s always been a lie I feed to myself. Healing is fucking hard. Facing the past and the things and feelings you keep locked away is hard. I’m resistant to change, resistant to a change within me. I often wonder why that is. Who am I under all o this trauma?

I know I will still have depression. I know that I will still want to kill myself but will I still hate myself so violently? Will I finally be able to accept death and the hand dealt to me?

I think I’m a fucking coward for not having done it. I mean, I did try in the past. I survived every attempt. Clearly the universe wants me to be here and I have no choice but to accept that. Whether I like it or not, I am here. I will die eventually but I’m not living right now. Going through the motions of daily life, my work life suffering because I’ve gone from high functioning to low functioning. I think to myself, this world is wonderful but I don’t fit into it. I don’t want to be here but at the same time, I want to understand the universe. I want to follow in the footsteps of my ancestors and connect to this planet just as they did and to the stars.

If I die, at least I died trying to do something that I like, even if it takes me a long time to foster up the energy, the motivation and the drive to do it. Maybe I’m here to learn all of that. I’m scared of it but I accept it.

Incoherent mumbling

The grey skies look down on me, perhaps disgusted by the mere thought of this day existing. Another day in a foreign land, another day without the comforts of home or the semblance of the life before. How do you adjust to newness? How do you adjust to a new mindset, a better mindset? Why does the effort seem to be so enormous when once you take all those steps, the goal is all you’ve dreamed about? What a terrifying thought to have, moving away from everything you’ve known.

July 2020

I don’t know how much time has passed since we last talked. Or maybe I do, maybe I avoid you. The issues at hand, always swept under the covers and me, in denial of the kind of person I am. You see, sometimes I just am not a good person. I’m too irritable, too quick to anger, slow to empathy. I am resistant to change.


I wonder what it would be like to live without some of the issues weighing me down but I am afraid. I am afraid of the kind of person I will be without them. Maybe I won’t be as great, maybe I won’t even have the same goals. I’m clinging to a sick little ego that has yet to experience the release of dying. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? Let the ego die over and over again and surrender ourselves? What is it like to surrender oneself? I always wonder but what is it like to take the plunge?


I mean like really take the plunge down and experience what the bottom really feels like. I always say I’ve felt the bottom, I’ve felt the bottom when I tried to kill myself all those times. But is it really the bottom? What does it feel like to lose everything and gain yourself in return? What is it to live without the shadow of wondering what people would think of me?


It’s something that I guess we all have to experience at some point, in order to facilitate a good change within… or bad. I can’t predict the future any better than the next person. I lack the depth of focus, in a real way. I can’t seem to settle on a single thought, it’s like my mind is a constant muddle. I’m always at odds and ends but maybe I can look back and think… maybe I have changed for the better.


It takes a single step right?

29 October 2019

I can’t believe it’s been about 7 years since I started writing here. Seven long years of losing and half winning my own battle with my chronic illness and the physical effects of it. I reflect on all I have written, half written or failed to write about. I have changed as a person. I don’t know if it’s for the better or for worse. I feel trapped.

I feel trapped in my house when I’m unable to set foot outside without risking a rising panic in the pits of my stomach. A panic that reaches up, grasps my heart and pulls on it so painfully. It cripples me to the point where thinking about leaving my house brings me to close to tears else I sob uncontrollably. Slowly, the vines grow around my feet, wrapping around my legs and creeping ever so slowly as my skin turns to tree bark. Depression is a hell of a thing.

Ha, it’s been a while since I’ve even been able to say I’m depressed. I’ve been in a constant induced “happy” haze. When it finally does end, all I’m left with is insomnia, a lack of appetite and dehydration from sobbing spontaneously for hours. I can’t quite explain the sobbing. something in me feels permanently fractured. Whatever facades I was able to hold up when I was younger, I am no longer able to now. I used to write descriptively and now I do not. It takes too much energy to do it and I have no energy to spare on it. If i do, I’m set back for weeks while I adjust my energy for the activities which must be done.

I don’t know why I’m here. I just know that I’m the scum of the earth and I do not deserve a space here. I do not deserve a life. I do not deserve the people who have walked in and out of my life. They are moving while I am stagnant, stuck in the quicksand that threatens to take everything away from me. I feel stagnant, I feel like this illness has caused so many setbacks for me in the last ten years. I’ve gone from high functioning to just barely being able to go through the day.

And you know what? It really has taken almost everything away from me. Friends, family, hobbies, aspirations, motivation for life, my ability to be employed traditionally (thank fuck for remote work), my ability to work the job I have currently and so much more. I feel like I will never be myself again. but then again, who the fuck was I? I don’t remember. Maybe that person is dead. Maybe I buried them long ago underneath all the muck and filth of my mind closing in on me.

There are days on end that I’ve not brushed my teeth, washed my hair or have had a proper shower. When I do finally get around to it, it feels like all the energy has been drained from my body. Much less for interacting on all levels with my partner. It’s exhausting to even be able to show some level of affection or some feeling for him aside from being clingy or unnecessarily worrying him because my face won’t stop leaking tears. There are days I have not stepped outside the bedroom, under the covers, naked in the blistering heat of the day because at least, I can not have my clothes sticking to my body. My body which I hate.

I keep seeing all these articles about the ugly side of depression, the same things I go through yet I feel so dissociated from it that their truths seem alien to me. it seems like a farce, something to get the clicks on these websites, blogs etc. It all seems empty to me.

Or maybe I’m just that numb to all things now