21.12.18

Sleep. A concept made for people who like to give their body the nourishment and the respect it deserves.

I was not one of those people.

My current state was more than tired, if that was even possible.

I had run myself ragged. Going from a 10 hour shift to studying.

Who said that education was rewarding. At this time I wanted to slap them across the face and yell that it was far from rewarding.

All I wanted to do was curl up in a fetal position and sleep sleep sleep. Unfortunately, I was stood at a bus stop in the middle of a harsh winter and the bus was no where close to getting here.

The bags under my eyes were fuller than the pockets that held my money. I was both cash and sleep poor. Funny how those two things went hand in hand.

Come on bus I muttered under my breathe, do me this one solid and I will never ask for anything again.

I shuffled on my feet, to stop the coldness from freezing my toes.

Please come soon.

And like a Christmas miracle the bus came speeding towards the bus stop. My chariot ride to my bed.

20.12.18

Who would have thought that something that comes so natural to many, held the power of changing your mood. Turning it a whole 180.

Something that you didn’t have to pay for, but you could do if you wanted a professional.

The body was such a powerful tool.

That’s what was running through my head as I stared at the chip of paint that was hanging on for dear life to the ceiling.

Why wouldn’t it just fall?

I looked back at Lucy, she had a kind face. The type of face that held reassuring powers. I guess that’s why she had become a therapist.

My finger continued to play with a piece of thread that had come lose on the bottom of my sweater.

The weight that continued to press down hard on my neck, was easing up. Verbal diarrhoea was spewing out of my mouth as I confessed my inner most secrets, spoke on things that I would never tell anyone that I knew. I spoke about the darkness that I never seemed to be able to shake. This was a no holds barred situation.

When my mouth finally came to a rest. I felt lighter. Free.

It truly was good to talk.

I had made the first step, working on getting better. I didn’t want this darkness to stop me from living life. I wouldn’t allow it to win. I wasn’t going to allow it to fully consume me. I would soon hold all the power and it would cease to exist.

I was looking forward to being in control of myself.

A smile slowly crept over my face and I continued to speak.

19.11.18

Most of the time my head feels like it’s stuck in a cloud of fog. It’s heavy, weighted down by worry after worry after worry.

I’m a prisoner shackled to doubt.

I want to break through. I want to be brave.

My feet edge closer to the sea. The sand feels hot under my heels. My eyes are closed.

The sun beats down on me and the sounds of the waves guide me. One more step and I’ve made it. The water pools around my ankles and I open my eyes.

I turn around and scan around the beach for you. When I finally locate you a feel a tingle run through me. This is happiness. This is a moment that I will store forever in my memory banks, and pull out when time doesn’t feel that good.

When even the sun itself can’t gage a smile from me. When the envelopment of a duvet is more appealing than getting up and facing the day. I look back to moments like this and they make me feel almost human again.

They remind me that this is not forever. That the storm will come to an end.

I lock eyes with you and your smile draws me back to the shore.

18.12.18

You came into my life when it was so stagnant.

You were the spark that lit the fireworks inside of me.

Woke me up from the coma I had fallen into. You brought me back to life.

Now that you’re gone. I don’t know who I am anymore. I stare blankly at walls hide myself from the outside world.

Sometimes I hear bird songs and it makes me cry, not with sadness but with joy.

I think back to the times we used to run through the rain, throwing our heads back as we allowed the droplets to fall down on our faces.

I miss you, but I was glad to have known you, glad to have experienced a life with you.

It will never be a goodbye from me. I will never let you die, you will live on forever through me.

16.12.18

The smell of weed and uncleanness tickled my nose.

My gag reflectors went into overdrive.

Why was personal hygiene something that some people felt the need to neglect?

I pulled my jacket up to my nose trying to censor the smell. This was why I took the bus, if in doubt crank a window open and dash the smell outside where it belonged.

The train jolted and the man’s arm swiped past my face. I engulfed a whiff of his rancid armpit. It was so strong that I could taste it.

My eyes rolled to the back of my head. This was enough. This was the final straw, I was tired of doing the stiff upper lip thing and being polite. I was suffering. I had actually felt my stomach lurch as his body odour came into contact with my tastebuds.

I started to make my way to the opposite side of the carriage. Bodies became obstacles as I battled my way towards my intended destination.

This journey was way too long to have to deal with this torture. The sad thing was that it was still only morning. How and why did he smell so bad?

I wasn’t a bad person. Not really. I wasn’t really one to judge but how could you allow yourself to smell that bad.

The train came to a stop and a flood of people got off. A seat came into view and I sat down, feeling as pleased as punch. Triumphant, I selected my champion song and smiled to myself.

Before the second line of the song had even started, a familiar scent waved a unwelcome hello.

It was him. He had followed me down the train. I stared at the floor wanting it to open up and take me away from this pain. The seat next to me was free and he took it. His legs stretching super wide so I was bunched in. I was trapped. This was hell.

15.12.18

The icy wind brushed my cheeks and I opened my eyes, inhaling the sweet smell of winter.

I loved winter, I loved the harsh bite of cold as it blew its icy breath across the land. I didn’t even mind the cold toes and fingertips every now and again. It was a reminder that I was still alive.

A smile slowly crawled across my face as I took in the scene. It was a frosty morning and the lawn was covered in a frozen blanket. Cold but not cold enough for snow.

I pulled my dressing gown closer around me and stepped outside. I closed my eyes again and inhaled some more of that good cold winter air.

Yes this was the stuff that mornings like this were made for. As the icy air made its way through my lungs, I began to feel reborn and rejuvenated.

A warmth of happiness swept through me, starting at the base of my spine and working it’s way up until I felt myself basking in its glow. My smile bigger than ever.

Yes, I was a winter baby through and through.

14.12.18

I feel like I’m drowning in the middle of the ocean and that someone rescues me but then drops me back in and then rescues me and drops me back in again and again. Over and over.

Spluttering and gasping for air. Over and over again.

Wanting help but never finding it. Searching for a way to end the suffering that I never asked for.

This is my cry for help. This is me shouting at the top of my lungs, that I need help.

I have never felt more lost than I have now. Or maybe I have. Maybe I’ve felt worse than this before, but I shut it so deep down that I forgot and it’s not even a distant memory anymore.

I used to have days when I would wake up and happiness would spread all around me. Wrapping me up in a cocoon of love and joy. I felt safe. I felt worthwhile.

I haven’t felt that way in a long time.

My eyes are a constant red, bloodshot from hours and hours of crying. Constant bad thoughts drip dropping inside of my head.

I need help.

When will there be a day when I can truly be happy? When will there be a day when I’m not constantly battling with myself? Thoughts of me dying frequent me way too often then I would like.

I want to live I squeak. I want to experience great things. But the black smog stifles my words, it stops me from getting them out.

I need help.

I long for it to leave me, my constant unwanted companion. It sits on my chest, squeezing every essence of joy out of me.

It robbed me of my smile and every time I ask for it back, it laughs at me. At least it gets to laugh. Real laughter has not visited me for years. I’m so used to laughing fake laughs that they have become part of me.

I need help.

I want to shout it again. I want everyone to hear me. See that behind this mask that lies to everyone that I’m okay, that I’m alright; I’m really not. I’m not okay. I haven’t been okay in a long long time.

I need someone to guide me home. Help the me that is wondering around out there, lost and confused and just wanting to come back.

The me that once saw a destination further than the end of the rainbow.

That me, wants to come home. So please if anyone can hear me.

I need help.

13.12.18

His eyes hungrily scanned my body. I allowed my own eyes to travel skywards and turned around. As if, I silently tutted to myself.

I was seriously getting tired of men treating me like a piece of meat.

Who was I kidding on most days I craved attention. If a guy didn’t look my way then I was clearly not good enough and a hundred per cent ugly.

But then again, I still didn’t want to be treated as if all I was here for was the attention of men.

I was so confused.

Which wasn’t untypical of me.

I was almost always confused.

I really needed to stop allowing men’s opinions on me to give me some form of validation. I clearly needed to love myself a lot more.

I continued to cling onto the pole, attempting to hold myself up whilst the bus driver continued his practice for his next stunt job.

My body jerked and contorted in many different positions as I tried to cling on for dear life.

I really needed to start getting on the train. But the thought of the extra £3 odd pound I had to shell out brought me out in a bout of imaginary hives.

I just had to make it through the day and I would be free to do whatever I wanted for the rest of the week.

A tap to the shoulder broke me free of my positivity chant.

It was him.

I silently sighed and blinded him with my faux killowatt smile. I entertained him for the next 15 minutes as he went on about his toy car collection that he had been building since he had his first kids meal from McDonald’s when he first arrived in the country. I even hit him with some fake life stories of my own.

His number somehow found its way into my phone and mine into his. Why oh why did I feel compelled to give it to him. It was going straight into the block list. I really had to stop doing that.

Once my stop came up I bounded from my seat and without a word of goodbye I got off the bus.

I just had to make it through today I reminded myself. Just a few short hours and I was free.

12.12.18

I stare at myself in the mirror, allowing my towel to drop. My eyes automatically scan the parts that I hate.

My breasts are too saggy, my stomach too big. My arms too flabby, my thighs too dimply, butt way too flat.

Why is it that the good things never come to light? I never see the things that are supposedly positive about myself.

I was never going to be good enough. Never going to be the supermodel that I thought I needed to be.

I picked my towel up and hurriedly wrapped it back around myself in disgust. I tried to control the tears that were fighting to come out, my reflection was far from my best friend.

Why couldn’t I be the pretty one? My life was shitty enough, and here I was the most ugliest on the shelf. It was no surprise that I was single, I must repel men so badly. One look at me and they felt sick, I knew it, I mean what else was the reason?

I had been single for so long, a man had not touched me in so long. I was ugly I knew it. I should just get used to it. No man would or could ever love me.

I was the rotten banana, the crushed rose, the broken biscuit. Who would want me? Who would want to love me? I didn’t even love me! Why would someone else?

I wrap the towel tighter around my body; my nails digging into my skin, and let the tears fall.

11.12.18

I pound away at the punching bag. The punches getting more ferocious.

Intense thoughts bounced around my skull.

I was so tired. In fact I was fucking tired of being fucking tired. Tired of crying frustrated tears again and again.

Victimising myself. I had turned myself into a victim.

I was tired of crying myself to sleep because life hadn’t gone the way I wanted it to. But who lived the life they wanted or expected?

My teeth were worn from contestant grinding and clenching. I was way past fucked up. I kept punching my way through life trying to remind myself that I was still here.

But was I though. Was I really here? Was life even real? Was this all just a social experiment for some rich bastard’s entertainment?

My eyes close on an existence that I hate. I’m angry. I’m hurting. I want it to stop. I want it to end. Why am so negative?

I want to stop, but it’s hard. So I come here and I pound this bag. Pound out all my frustrations until I’m weak, and all the negativity floods out. Making way for the next instalment.