In my sleep i stirred, “stay” but my darling memories always fade, they leave you with a taste.

Stay. I say, again, again.

My memories taste of bitten lips and blood, and drenched in guilt.

Can you stay? be my something sweet, help me.

But my mind is twisting and twisting, like draining the water from silk, as if to wrench the water from me and leave me dry, parched earth.

My eyes open, as i tightly grasp back the stay i should never say, horrified i’d ever try to put kindness in this cage. My lip bleeds again. as i stare as the bright golden dawn sheers the ceiling in half…I am in the shadow…

If i am the moon, I am the half turned away from you.

If i am the ocean, i’m the trench that could drown you.

If i am the storm, I’m the fury where it meets the land, and everything begins to thrash.

If i’m a metaphor, i’m the bad.

You make me believe, for brief, transient seconds, that i am not, that’s why you terrify me, because you say what you believe and i’m scared to see what you see. but, unguarded, i admit you’re the best memory I’ve made, and i would quite simply like to stay.

In 7 days i turn 27, in the hundred thousand ways i thought i might approach my late twenties, i never imagined this,  maybe i never imagined it much at all, this year, everything is broken but i can’t put down the hammer, i can’t stop this path of destruction. i’m crying for help, but i’m choking on my guilt.

Why am i still so childish, so frightened, so pathetic, when do i grow up?

Or have i got this all wrong? Made myself believe maturity is when the world stops hurting me, when i can bare it all without a whimper? but i was built on a foundation of screams and sometimes they still get caught in my throat.

I wish i could hold onto you, but the guilt is too heavy, i feel too selfish. There isn’t an ounce of doubt, there is only guilt and its winning. I can’t ask you for anything.

I can only hope i grow stronger, day by day. Maybe one day I won’t be a cage, i’ll be the sky, maybe one day, i’ll say stay, and not hate myself for it.

7 days….



Baby steps, my darling.

Baby steps, my darling, just baby steps.

I’m on my feet i’m learning to walk, i’m learning to trust this clumsy pair of legs that wobble, and stumble, and i fall, i fall way too much, but baby steps my darling, baby steps, i’ll say it to everybody else, I’ll say “give yourself time” hoping i’ll listen, hoping i’ll forgive myself.

I’ll spend my life learning how to live. that’s the point isn’t it? that’s what we all do. learn to live.

I said it with a smile on my face, stifling the fear, because it sounds like an awfully long time,  A lifetime to live.

I entered that room with no expectations, ‘a therapists office’ been to all kind of therapy in my life, but none for my mind, none to unwind thought strings I’ve spent 25 years unravelling and sorting through, i honestly don’t expect anything, i know i’m not going to emerge in ten weeks healed, i know that, so really what do i want? To sit down and talk about the things i can’t say to my family, do i want to sit in there and say i hurt myself and i can’t seem to find the motivation of the belief to stop? do i just want a room where i can say anything and know it will never leave.

What do i want?

She asked me that a lot over the next ten weeks. What do i want? What do i feel?

I don’t know. I’ll say, i don’t want anything from her, i’m not gonna be healed, nobody can heal me i’m not even broken, nobody breaks, we’re too fluid, the ocean doesn’t part nor can we, even with giant continents of hurt solid in our ocean, we still thread between in rivers and water, never broken, never apart, always, horribly frustratingly whole.

So what do i want? To not die? well she’s not gonna be able to stop that if my mind clicks one day. nobody will stop that if i decide.

To understand? Well don’t i already? My foundations are poorly made, i learnt destruction holds hands with love before I learnt my first words. I understand. Of course I understand, I sit there and say i forgive myself, of course i’m like this, nobody lives through that and doesn’t get a little twisted.

I can’t understand it all except why do i hurt myself? I never understand that, if i did i could solve it, i could stop it, i could unwind that certain kink, and charge forward like i always do, because i know how to survive, i say that too, I know how to survive.

Maybe I assume too much as i sit there, sometimes talking away 50 minutes.

She tells me much later that i’m insightful, that the way i see the world is fascinating, she even says she’ll miss me.

How can the person that sat there, and heard me say for 50 minutes straight that i hate myself, that i hate everything, that i feel nothing, that all i want to do is rip off my skin and end. God. all i want is the end. And i know i won’t find it here, in this little room, with the uncomfortable chairs.

She asked me if I go out much, if i have friends, i laugh and say none in this area, but i try and go out, it’s a lie, if it’s up to me I’d never leave the house and its getting worse.

She picked me apart, and the moment “I hate myself” is out, i’m fragile, everything stings, i hate that i hate, and that i hate the hate, i can’t stop this hate, i should be angry, but the only person i’m angry at is me and it shows, it shows all over me now, new scars popping up on my blank skin, i promised never to scar, but i broke that promise. I’m breaking promises all the time these days.

After That session i make an effort, i try and try and try, i unravel myself, i unravel, and everything is more tender, i pretend it’s helping, i pretend, but i’m raw, and there’s nobody there, because words aren’t enough and i’m lonely i want to cry, my family hurt and they hurt, and they don’t even know it, they don’t know they’re tearing me apart, and my ocean is getting smaller the rivers are drying, people don’t break, but i think they dry up, or they crumble, the desert was an ocean once, i read that somewhere.

I know the more she drags out of me, the more i know of myself, my “i knew this all already” was a lie, i’d just spent a long time burying it, and now every wound is raw, i explode at times, when my dad is being petty, i boil and explode and shout til i cry, why am i crying this much? I ask myself that a lot.

my mind is struggling with it all, its shutting down, hiding, i avoided her sessions for three weeks straight, cause I’m scared i’m scared of how much i hate who i am, it shouldn’t be coming out this way. It shouldn’t. i should be healing. WHY IS HEALING SO PAINFUL? why am i so raw.

My best friend is there, i lean on her more than she ever knows, i lean and i lean but i’m afraid to topple. I just needed to sit there with someone and cry, but the tears never come around people, they come in the dark car when my mum is getting fish and chips, they come when i’m staring out of the window.  they come and then i never speak of them.

We only have a few sessions left i tell myself, i want her to think i’m stronger, but the only thing I’ve learnt is that i’m trying to fix everybody else, even though i don’t see them as broken, the only thing i’m doing is taking myself out of the equation, i’m withdrawing more, even as she suggests I show more of myself to people. I’m scared. I’m so scared they’ll see what I hate.

The last session i sat there feeling surreal, it comes out badly: “Is this what i am.” she frowns cause I’ve never be this inarticulate, “I mean is this down to my past? Or down to my brain?” she has no answer, cause of course, we don’t know. I swallow, and take notes of all the long term therapy I can apply for. I take notes but i know i may never ask again.

I learnt a lot, from having no expectations, i got more than i ever wanted, i don’t know if it’s maybe what i needed, she said to wait a couple of months to let it settle. but within a few days my life explodes, and the panic attack that follows is in front of my mum, and it rips me apart, maybe i’m the land, and the ocean in me is drowning me, maybe I’ve been drowning all along, and we don’t break we drown, and i can’t breathe. So i withdraw from the people able to hurt me, and I play nice with people who tell me they like the way i see the world, cause maybe the way i see the world is beautiful but i am not the world i see. and i lean on my best friend, cause she sees what i’m too afraid to admit.

But baby steps darling, baby steps.

I tell myself softly, waiting for the worst to pass, because i went to therapy and it was hard, and it hurt, and i’m not healed, but i never expected to be.

What i learnt is what i am, the burden i carry and the potential i have for great beauty, what i learnt is my fear. what i learnt is that i’ll spend a life time learning to live, and maybe that’s ok, and yes, maybe i’m a little fragile at the moment, but….I’ve never let myself be fragile before, but maybe i’m letting myself drown, or maybe I’m drying up, maybe i’ll be a desert, desolate of all interesting life.

Maybe, Maybe there was nothing in me anyway.

I dismantled my defences and lost them along the way, now in an attempt o fix it, i’m more closed than ever, but there are these spots of light and i imagine that’s what the desert feels as she peers up at the stars at night, there are spots of light i’ll never reach but my, they’re so beautiful



50 minutes

I might tear myself apart

Just to see whats inside

And if I pry apart my rib cage

There will be nothing left to hide

And I think I am a void

I think I’m black and all consuming

And if you look inside

You’ll see I’m not quite human

I’m wired a little wrong

All this time

Folding secrets like paper cranes

But they are tearing at my insides

And I am more than little frayed

And I can’t connect

I try

But I just can’t connect

I’m trapped under ice

It doesn’t take 50 minutes to say,

cold, tired and nothing

So I’ll fill in the space

With conclusions I’ve made

But nothing can unravel


I can’t break through the ice

And everything outside

Is beautiful

It’s really beautiful

But I can’t be a part of it

And I walked around the house

Empty hollows between my bones

And I think

I’m the kind who is best alone

So no one sees the echo

When I fall

When I cave in

When no one is looking

That will the time

That I find a way to end it

I think to myself

I’ve written a future

And I know where it is going

And every time I try to get off the path

I can’t shake the knowing

Cause I’m the kind

who will give in

I am so tired of pain

I chase a numbness

And illusions of being sane

By patching together

Broken pieces

I’m trying to be a person

Safe with you

I said she’s like the sea

Something about her calms me

I should have known then

I should have known

Cause I’ve always loved the ocean

And drowning is how I’d choose to go

Well is this drowning?

 Feeling weightless

Waves surround me

She is safety

maybe thats why its such a surprise to me

I swore I’d never fall again

I was so content to be alone

But now I’m craving

I saw nobody in my future

Gave up on needing saving

But this is not saving

It is healing

She is soft

Butterfly kisses

And warm tears

She is safe

She is a home

I can imagine in her arms

She gives so much love

I might just want her to lay the kisses

On me like she promises

But I know that’s just how she loves

I’m just a friend

She loves somebody else

It’s ok

She told me my lips look soft

And now when she calls me love

I may just feel it curl around my heart like an embrace

I want to go back, stay longer

Look at her longer

Realise sooner

I could be safe with her

My heart could be safe with her

I wonder if one day that will be true

If its not, if a few words are all I get

Last night I said I love you

You with universes inside

You with poetry in your words

And meaning in everything

You who is only genuine

Who is soft, who is clumsy

Who is beautiful


You who I’d trust with my heart

If you’d take it

But I won’t ask that yet

Maybe not at all


Do i over complicate

over compensate

over think?

Am i making this worse

dragging you down

we’ll sink

And everything in me

is saying i should leave

cause nothing is better off

with me

But you’re telling me to stay

and i promised i would

I promised i would

But you say

why are you still like this ?

and if i knew

I could fix it

But i don’t

I don’t think

i’m even something

you should try and fix






06112018 (the posts i never pressed publish on)

Today i sat down in my weekly therapy session, the familiar feeling of shame coiling in my gut, shame that  I need this, shame that I can’t cope with it on my own, shame to be asking for help, when this can’t be helped.

But here i am, 5 sessions in, and it’s taken me two weeks to pluck up the courage to sit in that chair again, she asked me how i was….I don’t know.

“Up and down.” I said. The minute dragged passed. “It’s been hard.” I said. another minute passed, i’m telling myself i should just say it, say something,  “I’ve been bursting into tears a lot,” I admit staring out the window, at the floor, anywhere other than her, “It’s weird, i don’t cry, like i never cry, it’s not an easy way of of expression  for me, but lately, i just cry at the oddest moments, and then it stops, and I’m numb again.” its a grey day, the outside world was dulled, and muted, seeming to pass slower than usual. “Normally i understand why i’m feeling something but lately i can’t balance everything, it’s all or nothing I’m either numb, or i’m overwhelmed. and i can’t get it back.”

“How long?”

“I mean probably before, but since the last session, it’s been worse.”

“And when was the last time you felt like this?”

“often, but not for this long, not since January, February,  it is never usually this consistent for this long.”

“Can you say what you feel.”

Moment passed, and i stutter, trying to get the words out, because they’ve been in me for weeks, and i still can’t wrap my mind around it. “I just really, really hate myself. and i keep looking for things i like, or something, because i always hate myself, so i make a list of things i’m proud of, but lately, there’s nothing, there’s not a single thing i like, I hate myself, i hate who i am, what i am, everything.”

Beat, and i expect the sky to fall down, for teh people who love me to dive in and list out all the reason i’m wrong for feeling this. but instead she just looks at me.

“That’s a really strong feeling isn’t it?”

“Its consuming.”

“And what does it sound like?”


“What does it look like?”


“is there anything else to it?”

I paused. “I could say it’s a dark version of me, or something, but it’s not, it’s me, as i am. It’s me sitting here right now, it’s even me when i’m smiling and laughing and look OK. Its exactly like me.”




I hate myself

I hate my body

I hate my skin

I hate every single thing within

I hate myself

I hate my words

I hate my voice

I hate every single little choice

I hate myself

I hate my soul

I hate my heart

I hate that I am tearing myself apart

I hate me

I hate me

I really really hate myself

And I can’t think of anything else