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sixymama

Mental, mardy, but a little bit marvellous..

Month

November 2016

Lost

i lost all my drafts and it feels like I’m gone too

Tired.

I’m tired you know? I’m tired of second guessing, overstepping, hiding from the mark. I’m tired of waiting and wanting and hoping and being disappointed.

I’m tired of no affection. How can I be starving so soon when we only met a month ago? A month of what should be amazing times and instead are cold and dark and lonely. You wanted me too and now your darkness sits between us like a wedge. I try to edge round it and sometimes i see you and You see me and we wave and smile and I hope to dare to hope.

And you look down and pull away and I’m alone again. And I want to wait because I think you could be be my everything wrapped up in this very uncertain future. But waiting is hard, especially with so much uncertainty. I miss you and I hardly know you. But I miss you so so much. I miss the feeling I got when you smiled at me and it wasn’t just an eye smile it was a whole body soul smile and it lit me up and filled me and I’d smile back and it was like our secret our feelings. Now there are no feelings and no smiles and it feels like there won’t be any contact to even try to smile again. You ignore my texts because my stupid brain says stupid stuff and I’m left in the dark. This week I understand how cruel you can be in your indifference and cruelty is unbecoming and I’m the fool that is prostrating myself for more of the same. I hate feeling like this and it doesn’t help my mental state but I worry about you and I want this to work. My friend says I shouldn’t and I’m chasing and I should stop because indifference is cruel and dark. 

I want to forget all about it and forget about you but why, why would I forget you? 

Slam Poetry

I’ve been watching/reading a lot of slam poetry these past few weeks. I love it. I know it’s performance art and I’m not strictly performing this but what I write here speaks to me on that level. My very own performance poetry. 

Titled: Wobbling

We all wobble, right?

Lately, I wobble every day. 

Sometimes I wobble so long I wonder if there is such a thing as wobbling and maybe this is my new normal; am I meant embrace it?

But I can’t embrace the darkness, no matter how hard it tries I’ll never be able to accept its arms around me, I’ll never not feel creeped out by the shadows it leaves when it steps from my head to the corner to watch me, leering from the side of my eyes while it pulls my clothes off and breathes heavy in my ear, whispering all the dirty, shameful, unspeakable things it’s going to do to me once it gets a foot in the door of my self and a hold on my body again, how it’s going to rape me silly; leave my mind in pieces, leave me choking under its weight while it unloads it’s death over me, knowing I have no choice but to swallow and all I want, all I wish, as I scrub my body and I scrub my skin, all I wish I wish I wish…

Today I wobbled again. The dark returned and it swallowed me whole but I did not embrace it. I struggled and I cried I railed and I yelled but I did not embrace it. I didn’t have the strength to fight for long but I did not embrace it. I did not hold out my arms for an embrace. I didn’t hide myself in those comforting folds of darkness. I curled up and I hid and I resisted. The darkness surrounded me but it did not swallow me. I did not embrace it. 

I wish I could see the light again.

Complications

Why are men so complicated 

Why do they push me away

Why am I left here to overthink everything and learn nothing 

I’ve had all the lessons and still I’m here

Confused, wanting to be let in, to help, be useful, be IMPORTANT to him/them/those 

I don’t know why I attract these men

I’d like one that’s whole please

Getting out of bed isn’t brave. It’s necessary.

When I get out of bed I don’t think. Any thoughts that aren’t directly related to what I have to do are pushed away. I separate the two halves of my brain, emotion over there, busyness here. I IGNORE my own self, shut it up, close the door, brush it under the carpet. I can’t afford to give time to my thoughts of ‘how am I going to get through today’ or ‘so I woke up again unfortunately’ or any of those destructive, self harming sonnets my head has to say. I wake up every morning with a profound sadness. I want to disappear and when it’s at its worst, when the hold on me is so strong all I can do is become a smaller version of myself… Then, I shrink. And I resist. It’s a physical burden, chaining my concrete feet to the floor. I move but it’s slow and it’s difficult and it’s laborious. Each shuffling step I take is concrete holding me back, weak legs because of the endless wading through thick mud. My body is weighed down in heavy suffocating chains. No freedom of movement, slow and steady but still, movement of some kind. I move because I have to, I have stuff to get done for other people, I can’t let them down. They need me. And yet. And yet. I don’t want to be here.  My every ignored thought takes me down those other roads, where there is peace and no more pain. Where I don’t have to do anything or be anything or have anything or want anything. Where I’m not here, and I’m not sad anymore. 

I look forward to the day I don’t mourn my own self. Because this is no life at all 

I found some old posts.

I published them privately here, from way back when the blog was new, before I switched over to this style and site.

I read it, and I realised. I’ve come so far. But in other ways I’ve not travelled at all. Sometimes it’s like we learn and even though we learn and grow and change and move… Some things never change. They stay the same, unmoving, unchanging. And that’s why anxiety is such an utter bastard. That’s why whoever suffers with it, whenever they suffer with it, is instantly transported to a realm of otherness. It’s hateful. 

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