Unawnserd Questions

The roses are dying, screaming for light

The violets are crying, done fighting the cold night.

I look at you, and promise im just fine,

when under my shirt im bleeding in straight lines.

The razor blade in my pocket is gleaming with pride,

While im concealing the fact, that I’m dying inside.

Everyday I am consumed, eaten alive

by the securities I suppress, deep inside.

Scars, forever decorating my skin,

on the outside and yet deep within.

Days go past – years go by

My emotions still hidden, help, I want to die.

Maybe the best place for me is locked in chains,

for my mind is far past insane.

Should I follow my brain or my heart?

Should I stay, or should I depart?

it’s so very hard to decide,

should I stop, or continue my suicide.

I tell myself not to be afraid,

after all its only a little, shiny blade

.

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crimson

And as she pulls up her sleeve,

removes the braclets,

reveals her skin

the jagged, ugly scars littered from within,

These scars represent a millions uncried tears.

She cant say anything, nothing at all

so adverts her eyes and concentrates, staring at the floor.

two words suppressed, “im sorry”.

And shes not sure who to

herself, her friends or her poor bleeding skin

but this girl,

shes falling apart, shes apologizing for what she hates.

herself.

What a juxtoposition I know!

Stephan Chobosky once wrote “I am both happy and sad and wandering how that can be”. Well recently as you can probably tell from my varied blog posts, I have been up and down more than a well used Yo Yo, but you know what, that’s okay. In my opinion you have to look at happiness as a journey and not a destination, the world would be a pretty weird (or even weirder) place if everyone was always happy.

As weird as this sounds, and I don’t know about you, but on occasions I even don’t mind tearing up; I think there is a stage were so much “stuff”  (in other words bullshit) happening, the only logical option is for you just let the tears cleanse it all away.

I spent today doing nothing overly exciting just shopping for university when I had an epiphany, that you have to look at were you started, and compare it to were you are now; and hey, you know what, you might not quite be there. But as long as you keep on going and believe you can get there you will (trust me if I can, anyone can).

Five years ago, I was a pretty messed up kid who just got everything a little bit wrong (and I don’t mean the wrong hairstyle), I was that one who, went for the older guys, partook in activity such as drugs when I shouldn’t have, exclusions, you name any teenage drama and I’m sure we can tick it off, (It is fair to say I had more issues than vogue). Now im going to the university of my dreams, I got good A level results, and am on the right track, admittedly I am not quite there yet, but I have come such a long way. Without reflection on it, we rarely think of our lives in this analytical way, but its something I can only recommend indulging in.

The sad aspect is only small, it’s not really sadness either more of a niggling insecurity and anxiousness surrounding leaving everything I know behind and starting over, but I think everybody would find that a little bit daunting and overwhelming. And at some point you have to accept that we are who we are for a lot of reasons, some we might never know.

the third person in my relationships – Bipolar

That annoying feeling when there is a third person who just wont leave your relationship, come on we have all been there; well safe to say mine is not the jealous ex, but the disorder which both controls and dictates my life – Bipolar.

I have a hard time trying to navigate my emotions ( and I don’t just mean that time of the month) that consequently makes forming sustainable and healthy relationships so impossible, that building a zoo on the middle of Mars is more likely.

The problem is you can pretty much guarantee one of two modes, firstly the overexcited ‘oh my god lets do everything now, coffee look here’s coffee I want some more coffee do you, lets go bungee jumping, followed by skiing and then follow it of by reading all of Maya Angelou’s poetry in one night?’ (okay so guys I cant blame you for that one). Secondly theirs the even less appealing, lets stay in bed for fourteen hours, shut down and maybe if I don’t talk, and I mean not a word, stay in absolute silence all of this will go away and I might just finally dissapear.

Hyper-mania is terrifying because your the only one who is unable to see how bad you really are ( say what!? you cant go off and sleep with random strangers on a night out despite knowing them for a whole 5 minutes, what about walking along a line roofs with your eyes closed).

I read a brilliant car metaphor on a young mans blog and honestly the only way I can describe it is , its “like going at 100 miles per hour down a 20” however I would also add with no breaks or stops. It is hard to find someone who is prepared to go at that speed and in turn, stay around to hold that same girl, only covered in blood and scars, let alone ever commit to loving her.

Breaking up with my shrink and my meds

Break ups are hard and often uncomfortable but sometimes totally necessary. So recently I sent that text saying I’m sorry but this just isn’t working out, its not me its you, however not to my boyfriend but my therapist; you see we had what can only be described as a complex and secret relationship (you know what they say secrecy adds to the excitement). But I decided enough was enough, this could, granted be one of the worst life decisions I have ever made (I have always said that i shouldn’t be able to make my own decisions) and send me plummeting into a deep depression, but hey whats life without a little risk, right?

I decided that I was going to be riding solo a few weeks ago, bearing in mind I was not in truth wholly sober when I pressed the send button to that text, and fair enough to say I was wandering if the pounding sensation in my head was pure, unrefrained regret or, just a sever case of hangover; I am going to conclude with the latter, as even walking down the alcohol aisle makes me feel hungover.

Although as many relationships go, mine and my therapists was lets use the adjective turbulent, he would say stop being crazy, and I would do something even more insane, but it was still difficult. This is someone who had been a huge part of my support network, who I had when I was possibly in such a dark and terrifying space he almost knew me better than I knew myself, but I did it. Not with courage I will admit I mean sending a text come on really!! its almost as bad as getting your friend to breakup with him for you. But it was a step into the unknown and a new direction, and I must admit it felt liberating I guess, as it always does, to be lost in the right direction.