My Naivety – 31/05/19

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I have alluded previously that I am horrendous at making decisions as I cannot rely on my own brain.

I get caught up in fantasy, choose to see things the way I want to see them, a defence mechanism built up over many years of being hurt. Reality is usually too painful to acknowledge, so a retreat into a version of life where things are not as bad is an easy thing to slip into, and for the most part does no harm, it just makes things easier to deal with.

Unfortunately the down side of this is when reality comes crashing in and collides with the fairy tale life I am weaving for myself.

It is better to live in reality. I wish I could. But it hurts too much. The despair, the pain, the realisation, is too much. Perhaps, however, a source of this pain comes from the juxtaposition I create, in having a fairy tale life in the first place, by having hope and reaching for it. Perhaps if I embrace full pessimism, accept that my chance of happiness is not going to happen, I can live in reality. It might be depressing and it might change who I am, but maybe it would be the best option. In order to do this though, I would have to stop giving a shit about anything. And that is hard. Giving a shit gives us a reason to live. It gives us the passion to do things, to make the right choices, to act with honour and integrity, to move forward as a person. Is it fair on other people if I stop giving a shit?

I am fed up with the words from others that perpetuate the fantasy, but the actions that tear it down.

I am fed up of catching myself believing those words, only to find myself a fool again. Perhaps this is one life lesson I will never learn. Perhaps I will always be naive when it comes to the things I desire, because I want so much to believe it. So perhaps the only option is to believe nothing. To live in nothing.

Most of all I am fed up of living in my brain. If I stop giving a shit, will the thoughts finally stop? Or even if they don’t stop, will I at least be able to dismiss them because I don’t give a shit anymore? What would living a life like that be like? How would it affect those around me?

Recently, I have started recovering what is left of myself. I had been a shell for so long, and all I wanted was to regain what I used to be. This has been slowly beginning to happen, but if I chose to live a life of reality, I would be kissing that person goodbye once and for all. If I chose this path I would be essentially killing her and letting someone else walk away and live my life out. Is it fair to her? Or is it a mercy killing?

Can someone please make the decision for me. Just make sure it’s the right one please.

 

I Will Find A Way – Lucy Lyness

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youth’s ultimate beauty of innocence and hope

if ignorance is bliss, then surely, therefore, so is this

the potential and possible timelines and paths

streaming out of my body like ribbons of life, like lifeforce  itself

 

you took this, it attracted you like the murderous magpie you are

that malleable soul before you

that you systematically destroyed, inhibited, reduced to nothing

but it was my fault of course

 

no different from those that find a rare and undiscovered animal

Shoot it and put its head on their mantel piece

I sat on your mantel piece, broken remnants of a once wondrous masterpiece

now shattered into a thousand jigsaw pieces, the complete picture wiped away forever

 

that lifeforce, once so bright and strong

now a dark cloud, a demon smoke

inside every one of my cells

it is more me than I am

 

now that I have gained my freedom, why can I not be free?

still trapped beneath your limitations, your words and intentions, your strikes and misses

I wish I could twist your neck until I heard every last vertebrae snap

watch the ligaments dangle like spaghetti from my hands

I wish I could scream in your face, unhinge my jaw

and release that black demon smoke into your own being

fill you with everything you gave to me, an unwanted gift

watch your brain spark and burn under the pain

I could crack open your ribs, splinter one into a quill

remove your heart and write on your forehead

in your own blood, am I enough now?

 

At least through my anger I can purge you

I can feel something, a reminder that I was once a person

I don’t know how to start my life without you

I don’t know what to do or how to cope

you were my battle

my fight for freedom defined my every thought and action

now I am free I have nothing to live for, no purpose

but I will be damned if I waste it

I will find a reason to live

I will find a way to allow myself happiness

I will find a way to release you from my soul

I will find a way to love life again

with one foot in front of the other I will walk away from you

until I no longer hear you in my brain

until your reach no longer permeates

and I can finally fly away

December 2018

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I haven’t written on here in over a year.  A lot has changed.

2017 was a year of discovery, hope, breaking out, finding myself and new experiences.

2018 has been a year of depressions, difficulties, reality checks and avoidance. Also a few good bits.

I lost the house that I had so badly needed. My finances have been in tatters. I have withdrawn from social situations.

I discovered that I am not as strong as I thought.

Currently, I am low and struggling. I have made the decision to once again leave the boat and get a house. It is not going to be easy, my finances are going to be tight, but i know it is the right decision.

The relationship was too hurtful, and after 11 years I could see no way of undoing all that had been done. But I didn’t know the half of it. I assumed as I had put up with this over the course of the 11 years, that I could handle it. I have discovered that it has actually left me a very broken person in many ways.

I am more fucked up than I thought.

This is impacting those around me, and more importantly driving me insane.

I have sought help , which will begin in the New Year. In the meantime I want to purge.

Purge my possessions.

Purge my emotions.

Purge my past.

Purge my brain.

I want to scream and throw things and cry and paint and empty my brain.

Maybe I need to acknowledge my past. Acknowledge the hurt and the damage. And realise that it does not reflect me. It is not me. It is part of my past. I am a different entity to my pain.

I feel that I need to pour it out. Verbally, write it, scream until the pain is at the surface. I have pushed it down for too long and now it has become my foundation.

Now I feel at risk of ruining something that has the potential to be awesome. My inability to get out of my head and be present with the situation is making things awkward. The onus is not completely on me, there are other parties who are complicit, but their deal is their deal. They can choose to get out of their own heads too, that is not down to me. But I can help by doing my part for my brain.

I want to regain what I used to be. I used to have life sparkling in my eyes, everything was mischief and nothing in the world was too serious. I have been through so much throughout my childhood and teenage years, and yet I never let it rob me of who I was. But now I feel like a shadow. A spectre wearing her face, her clothes, whispering through her life.

It is my life. And I want it back.

 

 

Trace of you

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I trace things with my thumb. My own imaginary lines, following what my eyes see. Have done for as long as I can remember.

Subtitles, facial features, road signs, punctuation, clothing hems, angular shapes.

Imagine how beautiful it is..

when I get to trace your face.

Your eyes are mesmerizing, full of mischief and joy, each crinkle, lined with my thumb as you laugh at me..

Your lips, so full and tempting, line by line dancing around the ball of my thumb. If only I could reach out and trace them for real..

I know your face by heart, I could draw you a thousand times, every expression, every minute detail, I can close my eyes and there you are…line by line dancing around my thumb..

 

 

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/trace/