I don’t really need you

I don’t really need you…

I’ve got my demons to keep me company.

I don’t really need you,

when we go back and forth my madness keeps a hold of me.

I don’t really need you,

I am whole without you but only a piece when you’re with me,

you slice me up with words but you struggle to get beneath me.

And I don’t really need you,

that much.

After all, what people are to me is an accessory,

every person a revenge for what has been done to me.

You remind me of them all,

all the names I’ve been called…

And I don’t really need you,

it’s just a matter of time,

until you crack under pressure and turn me in for a dime.





Every time I look into the mirror,

All my scars light up on fire…

Especially the big one that goes down my spine.

I hate it. But it’s mine.

And the small ones go up like little fireflies…

A representation of an operation when I was four,

and a picture of self-hatred back when I was nine.

All my scars and scratches a long string of unsolved little crimes…

A failed attempt when I was eighteen,

A fragile self-esteem,

a face drowned in tears and faint ‘please, love me.’

They never did…

And each scar in the place of millions of words,

doubts and uncertainty.

A ‘hold me’, but instead I’ll bleed.

And each day they serve as a reminder of I once healed.

And I’ll heal again.

With imaginary love and drug-induced zen.

And even if the pain comes back ten times ten,

I’ll remember to way back when.

This life is a prison, I’m just waiting to die,

for a crime against myself, a 25 to life.





Hello, Pain!

Hello, Pain! Long time no see…

After all these months I thought you forgot about me…

In my chest there’s a hollow, you’re nowhere in sight,

I’ve gotten used to you first thing in the morning and last thing at night.

I see you’ve found your way back, you’re alive and well in me,

We’ve been through so much since I was thirteen…

You’re there when I cry and you’re there when I smile,

You sometimes leave, but you only leave for a while,

Nothing more than a matter of time.

I see you’ve missed me, and I’ve missed you, too,

Come sit at the table, I made dinner for two…

I know you pray on the weak and I’m perfect for you.

Why did you come back? What’s the reason behind it?

Did you catch me slipping or was there a reason provided?

Anyway, it doesn’t matter, just don’t ever leave,

because without you I’m not me and I forget how to breathe,

Just be next to me, sit by my bed,

and tell me the tales in which I am dead.


Scary mental health update

Something weird started going on with me…Since I have been prescribed the medication I was supposedly doing okay-ish. I had some moments, but nothing I couldn’t deal with. I think the pills made it so that I could just get up, get though the day, do my work, smile and that’s it. I was noticing I was faking a lot, I could hold up a conversation, I could laugh but none of it was genuine. Inside I didn’t feel anything anymore, I felt dead inside. Completely hollow. I started feeling like I was keeping to myself more of what I was really feeling. Then I noticed that I was slipping into this slight depression that was always buzzing in the background but I was trying to ignore it because I am taking medication and it should be fine. More and more I started to lose any kind of interest in anything, nothing made me happy or feel anything anymore. Going out somewhere, working out, etc, none of it brought me any joy.

So, right before I’m supposed to go on holiday, I feel it coming on full force and I’m losing it. I lost it. Last thing I know, I’m yelling with a voice that doesn’t even seem human, hitting myself on the head with my fists, I’m crying, I’m screaming, I clawed my face until it bled and I woke up today to find out that I fractured my jaw. What the hell is this? I can’t get out of bed anymore, I can’t eat or brush my hair. What am I supposed to do? I have a job that I value and don’t want to lose and the same time I’m scared for my life because god knows what I could do to myself now, I need help but I can’t risk losing my job.

So, I got all these thoughts in my head that I’m ugly, worthless and that everyone would be better off without me, a sigh of relief they would have. I’m completely broken and the worst part is that my parents have to see this and deal with me and that makes me feel worse. I’m a 25-year-old woman, supposed to be happy and look at me, I’m destroyed.


The broken and the poor

Don’t tell me life is roses and sweet cream on peaches,

Don’t tell me I can just look up to the sky and pick up the pieces,

I’m useless…

I’ve been there, at the darkest hour, head held low in the shower,

Water trickling down my spine, I am there for the pain to devour.

Don’t tell me to put on a smile and pretend I know what game we are in,

You mumble about God and how feeling pain is a sin…

How I am ungrateful and careless, selfish to the core,

I just know there is no cure for the broken and the poor.







Flawed machine

They said, take this,

It will make your problems go away…

I took their word and took the pills without a say.

Fast forward ten years later,

and six pills to hold me up a day,

I still go through pits of fire to keep anxieties at bay.

One pill for the morning, one to help you sleep at night,

I don’t know what I’m holding,

My hands are empty, I could not keep up the fight.

One during the day, one in the afternoon,

It keeps you sane, what do you have to lose?

And if I try to quit, the demons come right back…

Can’t control emotions, too quick to snap.

It’s all a downword spiral, nothing like you’ve ever seen,

All because the brain is a fucked up, flawed machine.






How the wind blows,

When it blows, it does with all its might,

So many hazy mornings,

So many times I thought I’d lost my sight.

They pushed me down with all their force,

They stepped on me, all one hundred feet,

I crawled back up, I had no choice…

One too many lessons learned,

I studied them hard with great devotion,

But it was the same pit of hell that left me burnt

and burnt out with no emotion.

Don’t call me weak because I cry,

Don’t call me naive because I trusted,

and don’t call me stubborn because I try.

How the rain pours,

When it pours, it does with all its might,

But how beautiful it is,

To a heart in pain, a pure delight.

The past shapes us

I always wonder why people who have suffered trauma or have mental illness turn to drugs and alcohol for escape. What is the appeal? I ask myself quite often.

Even though my life has been more or less stable these past few years, I still find myself struggling with thoughts and emotions I cannot control. Lately, I found myself drinking more than I should have. I was on a three-day alcohol binge which left me completely exhausted now, I’m still suffering the consequences, all because I can’t control my thoughts about what happened to me in the past.

Until these last few years, my life has been a complete shit show. I didn’t have any money, I was constantly fighting with family members, my mother was basically ill all the time and out of work because of it. I was a horrid mess, I was constantly depressed to the point where I couldn’t even take a shower, always angry and fighting with everyone, I was being bullied in school, eating disorders, self-harm, suicide attempts, in and out of mental hospitals. Later I got into an abusive relationship, which traumatized me deeply and I haven’t dealt with it until this day.

I’m always ruminating on the past, even though it is not there anymore, I still think about it. It causes great pain. So I drink, or take drugs not as prescribed to deal with the pain.

It’s important to recognize that the past is the past, we are living now, we should enjoy the now and stop thinking about what happened or what could happen.

Hope whoever is reading this has a great day, enjoy the now!

Can’t even cry

I got my three days off work. I thought this is going to be a great time to just cry my eyes out, scream and roll around in tears on the floor. No, I could only manage about 10 minutes of crying and that wasn’t enough for me to get all of it out. How am I supposed to mourn a relationship when I can’t even shed a few tears?

The drugs I’m taking are so strong that they prevent me from even having a good cry when I need it, when the circumstances are such…Two-year relationship ended and I can’t even cry…What is the meaning of this?

So, I’m just waddling around the house hazy, frazzled and disoriented, constantly sucking on my e-cig for some type of comfort.

My phone is now always silent, which perpetuates the haunting feeling of loneliness. I can’t believe I’m alone again, is this feeling enough for me to break and go back to her? I feel like nobody even cares enough, all people can say is to just get over it, don’t cry about it, etc. How are you not supposed to cry about someone you shared two years of your life with? Yes, there were a lot of bad times but there were also good times.

The thought about starting all over again is daunting. Meeting new people some time again, trying to get to know them, all that shebang. I really don’t feel like it anymore, I feel like it’s easier to be alone nowadays, there are less and less adequate people to meet, everything is so different now than it was before. She was the only one that could deal with my mental breakdowns and just me in general, I don’t think I will be able to find someone else like that.

If I can’t be with that person, I’m not going to try and be with anyone else. I live alone and I die alone.



Like a drop of wine on my lips,

Sour, yet intoxicating at the same time.

There is no God for me to go to,

So I sit still by the pain and hope to survive.

I die in pain, I die alone,

I have come from nowhere, and nowhere I go…

My orphaned spirit is left on the rocks,

If there is no one by my side, then let it be so…