Cherry Danish
Sometimes when I wake up, things hardly seem real. Sometimes I can look at myself, but I cannot believe that it is me. I look at the reflection staring back at me, but it doesn't match how I see myself; who I see myself as. Is it all just an optical illusion? Possibility swims around me, suffocating me.
Cool early morning winter light pools on the floor as the haunting, yet stimulating opening cords to Sigur Ros' Svefn G Englar plays. The cords caress my skin. I can feel the music moving beneath my skin. I want to pull it out of me. It feels alien, yet so good.
It's come to my attention that I've never been afraid of hurting or of pain. What I've been afraid of is the humiliation that comes along with it. I never wanted to accept when things were falling apart. I spent so many minutes, so many hours, so many days, so many weeks, so many months, so many years holding onto my phone, always waiting for him. In the same way that I waited for her. I want to wall off the emotional pain that I feel with a physical pain that I can handle. I wanted us to be one so that I wouldn't have to feel the pain alone.
I love the look and feel of the scars. They make up so many different parts of me, and I just don't mean physically. They're symbols of strength, my will to die, my passions, my faults, my failures, my freedoms and my successes. I feel the fire inside my chest. I feel the ice in my veins. I'm hyper-conscious of everything. Memories flood me, pinning me to the bed while the torture plays out before my aching eyes. The memories may fade but the wounds inflicted upon my body never will. I can't change my landscape any more than I already have.
I can't remember how I looked before I began the journey of tattooing myself. Patches of bare skin feel alien and wrong. They scream out to be covered in words and images. I want to fight the repulsiveness of this body. I want to feel whole to some degree. I want to create a living thing of beauty; something so far away from the way that I see and feel about myself.
----
I roll over onto my side, dull-white light caressing my skin. I just want to breathe in my favourite high. I close my eyes again and I'm falling backwards through time. I'm falling back to a different place. I'm thrown to the ground. It's damp Earth. It feels like I'm in some sort of forest. It's amazing some of the things I can do with my mind. I drink in the decadence of my surroundings. The cool and calm is everything that I want. I want to lay under open sky and just let my mind run away from me. Step outside this meat prison and see what it means to be alive. I want to know what it means to move unburdened by emotions and sensations that I don't want to fill me. I don't know how to revoke consent. Did I ever give consent? Logically, I know that this is an illness, but it feels like so much more.
Dreams are my only escape. I need them to fend off the feelings of suffocation. I don't want to drown anymore, but it's beginning to feel like I have no other options. I'm beginning to wholly accept there is nothing that I can be done to save me.
Shadows that dance on the walls terrify me. They laugh and jeer, their sharp teeth and nails fight against the confines of the light. They want to escape their prisons and sink all that they have into me. I used to believe there was nothing better than to be alone, but after all the time that I've spent this way, I've come to see that it's the safest way to be. Keep everything and everyone at an arm's distance, that way I can take preemptive steps to not be hurt again. All that I've ever loved has brought me unimaginable pain. It's deepened the hollowness inside and worsened the bouts of depression. Things that are supposed to bring the most joy and laughter to a life have brought me nothing but pure heartache and despair.
The shadow's laughter runs through my ears, driving me to claw at my skin. I don't want to feel this way anymore. I want everything to get away from me. I scream, letting it all out. The silence that rings around me is haunting. It feels as if there is something waiting to come for me. I'm starting to become unglued. I lay completely naked and vulnerable until the rising sun. If the monsters want to take me, my only request is that they take me home.
I love the look and feel of the scars. They make up so many different parts of me, and I just don't mean physically. They're symbols of strength, my will to die, my passions, my faults, my failures, my freedoms and my successes. I feel the fire inside my chest. I feel the ice in my veins. I'm hyper-conscious of everything. Memories flood me, pinning me to the bed while the torture plays out before my aching eyes. The memories may fade but the wounds inflicted upon my body never will. I can't change my landscape any more than I already have.
I can't remember how I looked before I began the journey of tattooing myself. Patches of bare skin feel alien and wrong. They scream out to be covered in words and images. I want to fight the repulsiveness of this body. I want to feel whole to some degree. I want to create a living thing of beauty; something so far away from the way that I see and feel about myself.
----
I roll over onto my side, dull-white light caressing my skin. I just want to breathe in my favourite high. I close my eyes again and I'm falling backwards through time. I'm falling back to a different place. I'm thrown to the ground. It's damp Earth. It feels like I'm in some sort of forest. It's amazing some of the things I can do with my mind. I drink in the decadence of my surroundings. The cool and calm is everything that I want. I want to lay under open sky and just let my mind run away from me. Step outside this meat prison and see what it means to be alive. I want to know what it means to move unburdened by emotions and sensations that I don't want to fill me. I don't know how to revoke consent. Did I ever give consent? Logically, I know that this is an illness, but it feels like so much more.
Shadows that dance on the walls terrify me. They laugh and jeer, their sharp teeth and nails fight against the confines of the light. They want to escape their prisons and sink all that they have into me. I used to believe there was nothing better than to be alone, but after all the time that I've spent this way, I've come to see that it's the safest way to be. Keep everything and everyone at an arm's distance, that way I can take preemptive steps to not be hurt again. All that I've ever loved has brought me unimaginable pain. It's deepened the hollowness inside and worsened the bouts of depression. Things that are supposed to bring the most joy and laughter to a life have brought me nothing but pure heartache and despair.
The shadow's laughter runs through my ears, driving me to claw at my skin. I don't want to feel this way anymore. I want everything to get away from me. I scream, letting it all out. The silence that rings around me is haunting. It feels as if there is something waiting to come for me. I'm starting to become unglued. I lay completely naked and vulnerable until the rising sun. If the monsters want to take me, my only request is that they take me home.
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