” I dream of a world in which mental illnesses are publicly approached no differently than physical illnesses, where we can discuss our struggles and day-to-day realities without being silenced or judged with stigma.” from the blog of But She’s Crazy..
tick tock tick tock, waiting for time to tick to night, to bring the shadows back across my face, to end another day. i showered today, a big feat, i sat on the shower stall floor, cried because i was a slut, a whore, loose, unconscionable, provocative, amoral, baseless, trust-less. i tried to cry the words out of my head, cried till the water became my tears, because the words would not leave, they circled, clawing back to shred pieces from my soul, carions mocking my weakness, barbs hitting so loudly they echoed off the walls. i showered, still dirty, and here i lie, analyzing the imperfections in the wall, still living with the regret of words unspoken, of having so much to say, watching the vultures circle and pick them from the sky.
drifting back, conjuring the scene, the pounding in my head, fighting for control while the words kept coming, breaking me, eyes piercing, words so urgent, tearing and building my guilt. Pushing so hard, the imaginary wall hard against my back, the walls closing before my eyes, everything swimming, pressure racketing, triggers flipping like breakers tripping, i try so hard to forget everything, block the noise, the voice, the pleading, LEAVE ME ALONE, please don’t push me so hard, it hurts, and i split, split into two, drift into separate sides of the room, watching myself calmly, disassociated, i escaped. like a child with captor- in my safe place, you can do what you want, im not in her, you can have her, she’s not me anymore, take Amanda. Breathe, watch the scene unfold, guilt mixed in my throat because i can only hide in my corner of my mind and watch. found my release, no knives, turned my back, turned her off, watched unseeing till all was done, then i picked her up, walked her out, and held her while she cried. life goes on vida, bury it, hide it, it wasn’t you, what words can explain the pain, what we do to escape the pain that sears through our mind like a burning poker. bury it, look forward to the light, find your forgiveness, and put the smile back on.
but escape i did not, trapped now in a new prison of recriminations. laughing at me. howling. howling through my veins, wasting me. there’s a hole in my soul, it’s here in my face, please hold my hand.
Oh, I really should have known
By the time you drove me home
By the vagueness in your eyes
Your casual good-byes
By the chill in your embrace
The expression on your face
That told me
Maybe You might have some advice to give… to the whore