Gentle cool light holds me and I hold it.
We can be so supportive of each other now, symbiotic.
You can be a crutch and a confessional catalyst for my catharsis,
You can be a listening ear in the dead-time night,
You can be glorious opportunity to throw my words out into the canal and receive them back, so quick, so elegant.
You, the same machine that crushed me with your thousand emails of things I hadn’t done,
You were my labouring into heavy nights of swimming lights and streams of bitter words I didn’t feel proud of,
You were a reminder of my failing to connect, but even then, when my facebook was a social minefield and my emails were a never-willingly-visited place,
You’d let me watch your screen and fade to black, “Are you still watching?” You’d ask.
Of course I am, you absolute foolish rectangle.
Thank goodness home gave me a place to call sanctuary, some toast to melt into, when I was frailer and more nervous than I am now, and when water could wash me away.
A place to build my layers and spread my branches skyward in the courtyard.
It was hard not to take on the opinions of others and let them weave into my psyche,
I did succumb, not willingly but they crept in and my flesh grew around them and they were enmeshed inside for a while.
It took my own gumption to replace them with gold thread and unlearn ideas and beliefs about my worth and about my reasons for suffering, and my body works tirelessly each day to protect and grow the cells I’m made of.
I’ve been particularly unwell recently, I had a really bad cold/ fluey symptoms on top of my usual issues you know and it sort of stripped me of the little things I can usually have the option of doing because I was just laid in bed sweating yknow.
I felt isolated and bored as well as sick, and it just rubbed the bad feelings around and they sunk in further for a few days, to the point where I could feel that I was physically improving in terms of my illness but still couldn’t get up properly because of the characteristic heaviness of my mental health issues.
I felt like all the calories of energy I had were being used on the heart-beating basics as dramatic as it sounds, and in feeling bitterly unhappy and lost.
I guess I’m trying to figure out how I came out of it, the visible wilting of my mum (brought on largely because of my wilting) led to me gathering the energy from somewhere to put some clothes on and let her drive me to the supermarket to get some earphones. While there, I bought myself a My Little Pony colouring book as well and some new gel pens, ha.
I don’t watch My Little Pony, but I find them quite adorable and full of friendship and sweetness and I like colouring them in because it makes the hours go past gently, especially when I can do little else.
Also, a friend of mine – I lived with him at uni, we had a sort of inside joke about them that developed into them just reminding me of laughing and someone giving a shit I suppose, and that’s a nice restful way to feel. 🙂
I sew myself together with silky ribbons,
I embroider my outside and in,
I deserve sequins and pretty buttons, so I sing in the bath,
Because it’s soothing
Because I like my singing voice
Because I enjoy the melody and the feeling of creation.
I’ve been in a bad mood in some really beautiful places.
The scene inside unshakeable.
When I write things from memory – Fresh
It weighs on me, to remember how I so regularly felt,
Straight from my real memory, I lose that step of distance between me and it.
Rather than me reading what I wrote then, and copying it down all studious,
I’m there in the awful moment where trauma put it’s foot down.