Stop. Start.


30 Minutes.
Day One.

Have you ever felt so low that you get dizzy?
Just standing up is a huge effort… Damn, even breathing is painful because your chest weighs that much.
Bursts of anger surge through you with no fore warning. They just appear, destroying whatever was in front of you. All logic retreats into the darkness that is all around you.

They disappear just as fast as they come, finished before you understand what is happening to you and you’re left with a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach. You’ve messed up again. You’ve broken it… You’ve hurt him.
And then the pounding resounds in your head, your vision turns blurry, all strenght long gone and all is left is you, a quivering mass of pain, all hope of being normal drained from your being…

Not every moment is this bad.
There’s worse too.
And better.

I was fine five hours ago. I was kissing my boyfriend good bye for work and dancing around with my dog. Sounds wonderful, I know. My life is wonderful, or it would be, if I were normal.

It’s mostly when I’m not occupying my mind that it takes over, but how do I keep busy when my body is failing me?
Every day I spend various hours on the computer looking for interesting jobs, courses, then when they call me to ask me for an interview I shy back, my mind is a web of excuses, terrified of leaving the house it can say anything. I envy its imagination. Yes, I refer to my own mind as another being. I stopped calling it mine when I realized I had no control over it.

“It’s just a bad month, just a hard time at the moment… You’ll be fine.”

Oh, it’s a wonderful world for the ignorant.

I wonder how long they could spend in my skin? Would they claw their way out? End it? Would they drink more? Sleep? Would they turn to drugs? Or could they handle it? Is it just me that can’t do this? Maybe it’s easy and I just can’t find the angle to make it right… It’s a photo that I’m unable to find the right light to capture, a recipe that just needs to be perfected. I can’t even control the flow of my thoughts. I’ve dragged the keyboard onto my lap as sitting correctly is too much for me right now. I can’t even look at the screen as the words waver and flash, is it the daily pain that makes me feel this way or is it this that makes me feel this pain as to be acknoledged?

It used to be just mental, I’d be sad, tired, but I’d sleep and it would all feel better for a few days. Now the pain is everywhere. My whole body is in tension, constantly, whilst I sleep, whilst I live every single day the pain is there. I can hardly talk these days as my throat is so tense, I can’t sing, I can’t scream… My mind is taking me prisioner and I am helpless as it does so.

I always find a reason not to end it, not to give up but sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it.
I love him so much, my puppy, my pets but I find it so hard sometimes to convince myself that he speaks the truth when he tells me he needs me and no matter how dark the dark days are with me, the light ones are worth it.
I don’t leave for the fear of the pain that I could cause others, but what about me?
What about me?
I’m so tired.
I need help.

And I have no idea where to turn.

Fuck you 30 minutes of writing. You’ve just made this a whole lotta not better.
Let’s see how tommorrow goes…

October 2016

It was beautiful while it lasted.

When it’s been some of the hardest months of your life and you’ve been a complete dick to the person you love and you wake up and he’s still there.

I woke up this morning to hear him singing to the puppy about having breakfast, even though he’d only slept 5h, I fell back to sleep smiling to be woken up with flowers and that huge smile of his, just because he likes to see me happy.

I can’t begin to express how grateful I am to have him in my life, holding my reluctant hand through anxiety attacks and depression, holding me to sleep and not walking away when I lose control.

I’ve lost so many people in my life because of anxiety and depression, because I was ashamed to admit I had a problem, because I was afraid of being judged, of being called insane when hiding it was making me exactly that.
I really wish people understood what depression means. It’s not a bad day, it’s not that something happened, its not a way to call attention to yourself, it’s definitely not a joke, it’s a dark cloud that envelops you, tells you to sleep and not to talk to anyone. It’s losing control of your feelings and yourself. It makes outside seem like your enemy and your body ache as if you’ve been beaten up, you forget what hope is, it seems never ending. It makes you run away from open arms when all you want is a hug. Your nightmares don’t stop when you open your eyes. There are good days and bad days, you can smile right through it whilst you crumble inside, everyone lives it differently and not everyone survives it, because you know deep down that even when this cloud has passed, another will come, you don’t know when but you know it will. It’s something that makes me rethink the idea of having children as I don’t want them to have to live through my attacks because I know there will be days, weeks, where I won’t be able to face them, their needs, their little faces will become my enemies.

Please don’t take depression lightly those who don’t suffer it an those that do, please seek help and survive. It’s worth it, try to remember that even when it screams at you that it’s a lie. It’s not, there will always be someone that cares, be brave, be strong, reach out. Find us, we are here. The survivors.

I don’t think I’ve ever asked for anyone to share a post but please please PLEASE, if you’ve read this and have felt this way or know someone that has, share it, you really don’t know, who could need it the most might be the person you least expect and believe me, knowing you’re not alone can save your life.

Amazing as it sounds, it’s true, I promise.




“WOMEN NEED MEN”… To Understand.

En mí rinconcito de escribir solo suelo desahogar, pero hoy quiero tratar de explicarles algo sobre un tema que suele parecerle a muchos un tema incómodo: La violación.
Incluso voy a tener la valentía de compartir mi experiencia personal como ejemplo, cosa que nunca he hecho, con la esperanza de que así entiendan mejor.

Hace años fui la víctima de una violación.

No fue un extraño, no llevaba falda, no iba bebida y aun así ocurrió. Fue mi pareja, el chico que “me amaba” y sabiendo la confianza que deposité en él, me destrozó como persona.

Tras años enterrando la experiencia tuve que afrontarla y aun ahora, años después sigue envenenado mi vida personal. Me cambió. Ya no se puede volver atrás, no se puede borrar ese acto, pero pueden aprender a ayudar con estas situaciones, a las personas como yo, que han vivido algo así, porque lo sepan o no, lo más seguro es que la mayoría (por no decir todas) de las mujeres que conozcas han vivido algo así o similar.

Hoy en día y desde entonces he tenido la suerte de tener solo parejas muy considerados y comprensibles pero por supuesto, hay momentos incómodos, hay ataques de ansiedad, hay falta de libido y estas cosas pueden romper una relación, quieras o no. Cansa.

Ahora, para explicar a todas las personas que conviven con alguien que ha sobrevivido una experiencia así, sea hombre o mujer, como nos sentimos a veces les haré unos ejemplos, quizás así pueden entenderlo mejor, porque sé que es confuso todo, sé que es difícil, créeme, a nosotros también nos fastidia no ser como éramos antes, también nos duele y somos conscientes de que nuestra experiencia cambia vidas, tanto la nuestra como la de ustedes.

Yo día a día me encuentro en situaciones que me incomodan. Soy y siempre he sido una mujer muy independiente y tener miedo de caminar sola, de estar cerca de gente fuera sin control (bebida, droga), de conocer gente nueva, de ser cariñosa etc, no es natural para mí. Todos somos diferentes pero esto para mi es relativamente nuevo y cosa que me cabrea.

A veces alguien a quien quiero me toca y me alejo como si me hubieran quemado, me pueden intentar abrazar y me quedo de piedra, me saludan por la calle y mi contestación no es la misma que antes. Hay empleos que no puedo tener, hay amistades que he tenido que dejar ir, parejas que no han podido con ello… TE CAMBIA TODO.

Muchas personas dicen que apoyan a las víctimas de violación, violencia, etc pero luego te sueltan estas perlas (ojo, digo mayoría porque luego hay personas más comprensivas que tu puto psicólogo):

“Joder pero fue hace tiempo, que lo supere ya”

“Sólo te estoy acariciando…” (y ella/él no quiere)

“Pero se acostaba con todos”

“Soy tu novio, tengo DERECHOS”

“Se lo buscaba”

“Me daría pena pero es que llevaba puesto…”

“¿Si es su marido/pareja como va a ser violación? Que tontería!”

“Es que iba súper borracha”

“Pero soy tu pareja”

“Sólo quería abrazarte”


Aquí hay solo unas cuantas frases que me han dicho o he leído sobre otras personas y sus experiencias.

Voy a enfrentarme a ellos por zona:

ROPA, yo llevaba pijama, otras llevan vaqueros y camiseta enorme, otras vestido, otras bikini.


Ejemplo: Tu amiga tiene derecho de ir en braga por el piso si quiere, si te incomoda se lo dices, no la violas.


Si tú tienes derecho de beber la cantidad que te dé la gana y meterte la sustancia que elijas, ELLA TAMBÍEN. PUNTO.

¿Está borracha? Se amable, métela en un taxi, acompáñala a la puerta de su casa, llama sus amigas/os,  NO SE LE HACE NADA SIN QUE ELLA DE PERMISO ESTANDO CONSCIENTE DE SUS ACTOS. SIN PERMISO NO HAY DERECHOS.
Este punto en concreto es difícil porque la línea es muy fina a veces, todos hemos hecho cosas estúpidas estando borrachos pero hay una GRAN diferencia entre sexo de acuerdo con ambas personas y que una persona este inconsciente y se aprovechen.


A MUCHAS MUJERES TAMBIÉN NOS GUSTA EL SEXO. Y al igual que los hombres podemos acostarnos con quienes nos dé la gana.
Da igual si una víctima era virgen o era una persona muy sexual, sigue siendo violación. Cuando uno quiere sexo, se puede, cuando no quiere, NO SE TIENE. Es bastante fácil si lo miran así, ¿verdad?
ACTOS SEXUALES -> CUANDO DOS (o más) PERSONAS QUIEREN, NO SOLO UNA PARTE. (¿Tú quieres, la otra persona no? Usa la mano.)


Esta parte es una que no se le suele dedicar palabras, no es algo de que se habla tanto, no se considera lo difícil que es convivir con una superviviente de la violencia/violación.
Esta parte es muy importante para mí porque es lo que más me choca día a día, que no llegan a comprender esta parte me mata.

PRIMERO, antes que nada, LAS PERSONAS NO SOMOS OBJETOS, NO TENEMOS DUEÑOS Y NO TENÉIS DERECHO NADIE SOBRE NADIE (al menos que sea sexo sado que allí ya es otra cosa mariposa…) Así que aquí queda muerta la frase de “SOY TU PAREJA Y TENGO DERECHOS”.


Ahora para las demás frases que tengan que ver con este apartado, para hacerlo más fácil de entender, les voy a poner un ejemplo:
Imagínense que hace unos años estabais tú y otra persona jugando con fuegos artificiales. Te encantaban los fuegos artificiales y lo pasabas genial. Era lo que más te gustaba de una época de festejo pero esta vez jugando tu amigo no tuvo cuidado, no hacía caso cuando le dijiste que era peligroso y causó un accidente y tú saliste herido. Perdiste una pierna, un brazo, la audición, algo importante para tu estilo de vida.

Te cambió la vida, algo que antes adorabas, ahora le tienes miedo, pánico incluso.

Ahora imagina que otro amigo, no tiene por qué ser el mismo, quizás es tu mejor amigo y le tienes muchísima confianza, pero imagina que estuviera haciendo algo parecido cerca de ti. Que sientas ese calor de las chispas, te arde la herida antigua, tu corazón late demasiado de prisa… No te haría gracia, ¿cierto?
Quizás otras veces lo puedas soportar  e incluso lo disfrutes pero habrá veces que te recuerde demasiado a lo que te pasó y no querrás estar tan cerca a esos fuegos que antes adorabas.
Da igual que tu amigo diga que sea “una broma”, eso no cambiaría el hecho de que te ha dado un susto y te hizo estar incómodo.
Si te enfadas, te hará sentir estúpido, infantil, por tener miedo a algo lógico, o te sentirías mal al ver que tu amigo se enfada porque “tú te has tomado a mal su broma”, te hace sentir que tú eres culpable, hagas lo que hagas. Luego piensas en eso y no lo puedes olvidar porque no es la primera vez que te hacen esas cosas y poco a poco daña la amistad, daña tu imagen de ti mismo. Te acabas preguntando si tienen razón sobre ti… Si solo exagerabas y deberías seguirle la broma… Acabas suprimiendo tus miedos para hacer feliz a otros… Y acabas perdiéndote por no perderles a ellos.

Ahora aplícalo a nosotras.

A veces una caricia, un beso, un abrazo, sean inocentes o no, nos puede parecer una amenaza, puede ser algo que nos alarme o simplemente no querríamos en ese momento.
Y si tú insistes sería como sí ese amigo tuyo que está jugando con fuegos artificiales se echara a correr detrás de ti con uno encendido en la mano, torturándote, asustándote.
Sería cruel, ¿a que sí?
No lo verías correcto, ni justo, al menos que fueras un auténtico hijo de puta, que espero que entre mis amistades no haya.

Ahora piensa en lo que haces, contempla esas frases que usas con tu pareja, tu amigx, tu compañerx de trabajo y piensen, pónganse en la situación de otra persona.

No puedo hablar por otras personas aquí pero constantemente me encuentro pensando en las cosas que “causo yo” y la culpabilidad que cargo por ello es horroroso. Me siento culpable por decir que no, por ser arisca, por alejarme, por arruinar noches de fiesta por mi miedo, mil cosas. Cuando no debería ser así.


ES MÍ CUERPO, MÍ VIDA, MIS DECISIONES. Y no es no, aunque no le guste a alguien, aunque después de todo esto sigan sin entender, seguirá así. No siempre será NO.

¿Y si pudiéramos evitar todo estos casos?

Siempre habrá monstruos en el mundo, es cierto, pero TÚ no tienes por qué contribuir al horror. No nos juzguen, aprendan a tener compasión sin excepciones, sin “pero…”.


Y con eso les dejo.

…And it’s Not Even Halloween Yet.

I can feel it coming.

You’d think it’s better knowing somethings going to happen before it does… You’d think so.

But what about when it’s something you’re helpless to avoid?

Something that will destroy you..?

Would you want to know?

It hit me this morning.

It hit hard.

It’s like a storm, first comes the calm, that gentle cold breeze that makes you pull your coat in a little tighter, like the last day of autumn, you feel tired, it’s your minds monday state, words hit harder, you can feel pain just a little more, hardly enough to tell the diference unless you’re a pro like me…

Then the pounding starts… Your body feels heavy as if you were carrying lead in your skin, dreamless sleep ceases to exist and you awake as if you’ve travelled instead of sleeping, being pulled through time zones with no place to rest your head. Your eyes now have a purplish tint around them, the blue turns grey, people start to look at you funny, asking if you’re ill, if it’s contagious…You apply double makeup to hide it and make them happy to work with you again (how simple) but you know that tomorrow there’ll be no saving yourself from the black eyes that could have been made by angry fists yet are only there as a reminder from your body that it’s nearly time and there’s no going back now, as if there ever was, as if saving yourself from it was ever an option.

You tell yourself it’s a migraine, nothing more, the dizziness will pass, the pain will move on to another part of your body, there’s no mercy here.
Cry, there’s no one that can help you.

Today the anger starts to set in, yesterday it was just irritation, your anxiety on edge but it you could handle it, today full blown fury is there, just under the skin, hidden inbetween your bunched up muscles, tight with stress… Your whole body is wired and exhausted at the same time. Like a snowball effect, once started on a roll it will create a disaster you have no strength to clean up. It will destroy you, again.

Today’s delight was crippling pain creeping in from the toes to the hips as you try to walk home. You try to tell yourself it’s okay, you know this pain, just walk slow, stop every 5  steps, stretch, yeah, that should help… 5 steps… Stop and repeat… The burning sensation pulling you to the ground, people start to stare as you hobble home, feet making  slapping sound as your feet refuse to bend and cooperate.

The pressure’s too much, you’re about to blow, your partner is powerless and takes his anger out on the dog, withdrawing into his world which makes your heart ache, it’s  all your fault… Or is it? He doesn’t help, or does he? Do you trust him? Is he driving me mad or am I already there? You can no longer trust your insticts, you can’t distinguish between his faults and yours, there’s only anger, a burning fire blinding you, making you forget how much you love eachother, how much you care… What’s real? Is anything?

You rest your legs and swollen feet and your back suddenly decides it doesn’t want to lie down, the neck sending shooting pain through her head making it impossible to relax…

You can’t even tell her friends anymore as they just say they are excuses and they slowly disappear and along with them, your support. They don’t understand how much you wish it was that simple. They don’t know how much you needed them, to keep you aflote, to help you survive when your body is hellbent in destroying you.

The doctors fob you off with tablets and insults “you’re just fat, it’s just hormones…” and your mind is breaking. Go away, find courage, go back, leave again, more broken than the last time…

Every day gets longer and harder…

And still she fights, even knowing that she’s in the descent now, the black dog has nearly arrived. It feels like it should be raining yet there’s the sun, blinding her and forcing her to pull away from the window. The cruelty of being a prisoner in your own body.

It’s here again… It’s only been weeks since you started feeling like a person again yet it’s back to claim more of you, how much more do you have left to give? How long until you can call it a day and not be blamed..? How much more does the world expect you to do with no help, like a school project, is it half done, have you been tested enough? Have you passed..? You feel broken, knowing less now than you did when it all started…

All I know is it hurts. Everything hurts, every day.

And now you know too.

I know my enemy. I know when it’s coming and still I’m unarmed, I’m unable to save myself. Oh I know my enemy, my enemy is me.


To Stay Or To Flee..?

When does love stop being enough to glue us together? When did love become so evil? So hurtful? So strong…

Binded with the phrase “I love you”, when does it become more than a burden than a virtue?
He dropped a seed of doubt in my mind and watered it with his stupid lies… Now he blames me for the poisonous plant that has flowered and wound its way through me when it’s his baby and he is the only one that can trim and rid me of it…
Sometimes I feel he enjoys seeing me errupt, he enjoys hiding his flaws in me, feeling innocent… Sometimes I feel he uses me to erase his sins for I am the true sinner.

Knowing my mind tricks me, knowing the complications he promised to accept me, promise me it’s worth it, yet… Every fight he shouts it’s me, every flaw is mine. Taking advantage of my cracks he slowly drips the self loath into them, his quiet words so loud to my ears, telling me it’s all me, it’s my fault…

To what extent is it true?

I am destroying you or are you destroying me?

When did this stop being love..? Or is it still? I can’t make it out anymore, it blurs through the tears that are constantly on the verge of escaping my eyes.

We smile and tell our story, embellishments making people wish it were their own but behind closed doors the days pass and my self loath builds, my anger creeps towards him for preferring hobbies to me… Staring into that mobile screen where he used to stare into my eyes… Lips attatched to that blunt instead of my skin. Yet it’s me… I get angry for no reason, I blame him for the rain, the wind he says, when he doesn’t realise that I blame him for the butterflies in my chest, the love in my eyes.

My fragile heart, tangled with a broken body was not ready for a love like this… The most exquisite poison that is him, my goodnight lullaby. Hugging him whilst he sleeps deeply, peacefully and I cry as he left me alone yet again. Alone with only my thoughts to acompany me, the worst company… And still I hug him before sleeping at dawn, even when I’m angry, I hug him, how couldn’t I?
Even when he breaks me, I love him.


My mind screams… I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t face another fight. Convinced it’s me now, I am the monster, I push him away, with the simplest words he’s gone, it’s not hard, he doesn’t try to fix anything, he’s far too proud… I mean all too little although later he insists it’s not true… But actions speak louder than our fights and each fight ends with my pride disolving whilst his stands strong.

RUN. Don’t say sorry anymore.

Break the dirty plates that never got cleaned, burn the house that echoes of fights and slamming doors, free the ghosts and run…

Run, you are the problem there’s no solution to, run before you end up dead.
Run, until you forget you hate yourself, until you’re too exhausted to remember your own name and can take another. Run until you blow away, run until you’re gone… Run…

The Crush.

Most cases of rape that can be found on the popular news channels are about strangers that randomly pick the victim, drug her, attack her and even murder her. It’s a fact that 1 out of 5 women have been sexually abused before their 20th birthday. But they don’t talk so much about all those cases of it being your best friend that does it, your husband, boyfriend, colleague…Family cases are brought up but; is it more about the shock factor, the horror factor than the actual news?
Do they publish it just to make you worry about wearing that skirt you bought last week, to make you think twice about being the independent woman that you are and walking home alone, living alone, to make you hold your child’s hand just that little bit tighter and trust a little bit less…Or do they actually give a damn?
Out of my circle of feminine friends, I admit this to be a small one as I tend to find myself more comfortable in the company of men (ironic considering…), maybe only one or two out of all the women I have had the pleasure of being close friends with have never admitted to have been violated in one way or another. Note the tiny number in that sentence and bear in mind that they could have suffered an event like the others but prefer not to tell the tale. That means, let’s say I have 12 female friends for example, 8 of them have been abused or raped, two have been victims of attempted rape or abuse and the other two we make no assumptions about what or what not has happened.

The part that makes my stomach drop, no matter how many times a similar story is told to me through tears, is that these people, the ones that have taken these women’s dignity, their privacy, their right to say no, the ones that have soiled that body that society already makes so damn hard to love “just the way we are”, making it impossible to ever see it the same way again, those people, are nearly always someone so close to them, you’d never suspect it. Why question that she’s quiet around a co-worker all of a sudden? They probably had a problem at work, what about her boyfriend? Maybe the love has fizzled… A husband? Money troubles!
There shall always be a reason she could be quiet, subdued.
But those people love her, right? They care for her, right?
She thought that too and that’s the devastation, right there.
How can you ever trust a person again when the person you’ve trusted the most is the one to crush you in the most intimate way…


There’s always going to be someone worse off than you but that isn’t a reason to belittle your pain or quiet down your story, you too are a survivor and that’s something to be proud of, not ashamed.


I really don’t know how much longer I can do this.

I used to brush it off, it was just a bad moment, it would pass.
That’s what people must think when they shout in the snow covered mountains… Just a moment of insanity and an avalanche was born, they suffocated.
I’m suffocating now, with forced normality, forced calm.

The world seems to grate a lot harder on me than on others, I used to think I was strong, I’m not anymore.
Like a rock turned to sand over time by the gentle caress of waves, their dancing foam slowly washing away everything that made me, me, just like the rock, I can’t recognize myself in this sand I’ve become.
Made of glass and bone, swept along, unable to be what I was destined to, waking up is painful now, just knowing I have a whole new day ahead of me, I can’t face it.
I’ve alienated all of those around me, been called crazy, a monster, maybe they’re right, I don’t know anymore, I don’t know me.

They tell me I’m hurting them but they don’t want me to leave yet it hurts so much to stay.
Is is more selfish of me to want to leave or of them to want to force me to stay?

I can hardly breathe, I wish I wasn’t anymore. I wish it would just stop, go dark and the pain would turn into numbness, unaware, I’d be free and freedom sounds like the loveliest thing.

The pacive part of me is turning to active, each time there are less reasons to stay, more to go. All I do is hurt people, wouldn’t it be better to hurt them in one go and then them never suffer me again?
Surely it would be preferable to a lifetime of annoyance, leaning my weight on them.
Surely they know nothing when they ask me to stay, why say it’s for them when they earlier said I only hurt them?

Do they only want me to stay to liberate themselves of guilt? The “I could have helped her, I should have…” the “whys” and “what ifs…” for the rest of their lives…?

I’ve began to think that way, each time more and more.

I have so much to give you world but my time is running out, I can feel it.

I feel myself slipping, my hands reaching for the medicine drawer, each time I care less the dosis I take, I only waver thinking of the consecuences if I fail.

How absurd is it that for trying and failing to take your own life you will be sentenced to jail… ? Your body in shreds along with your mind and all they think of is punishing you, instead of trying to give you help long ago needed. The world is fucked up, surely it isn’t just me that feels it, that can’t stand it… I can’t be alone but no matter how much I scream out, it seems to be in vain, for loving ears turn deaf to things they aren’t ready to deal with.

My throat is sore for begging, I don’t want to do this, I want help, I’ve spent years od my short life asking for it, screaming for it, how can nobody listen?

It terrifies me to contemplate the amount of people that have felt this way, lost in the system, ignored by the world for not being like them, silenced by the air that gave them life. All my life I’ve wanted to help them and now I can’t even help myself.

I beg of you, if you really love me, if anyone really cares,
take my hand, take me to a doctor, someone who will listen, I’ll go, I have a story to tell, I need to tell or surely it will kill me.

I won’t fight you, you claim to want me to stay, we’re on the same side, I’m fighting  for this too.

I always thought I could save myself but how can I save myself from…me?

I’m losing a battle that will determine the outcome of a war, don’t let me lose.

Please, somebody hear me.

Welcome to The Runaway Cafe.

Day two.


She sat on the couch, quietly gripping her coffee mug.
She heard a noise, or was it the silence that was deafening her? Making a drop of water seem like a thunder clap, the solitude was suffocating, yet she was the one that had cancelled all her plans… Again. Outside the sun was shining, too bright for her blue eyes and sad soul. No-one would believe it was nearly November.

She lived five minutes from the beach, a beautiful white beach that stretched for kilometers… She craved the feeling of sand beneath her feet, between her toes, her hair crazy in the wind, waves washing away her shadows…
But… That meant going out.
Out there.
Her soul sank with the realisation of what that meant, and she hadn’t even touched the water yet.

She could do it.
Biting her lip she took a deep breathe and unfolded her legs from under her. They trembled slightly as she got up, her head spinning. It’s hard to believe how something so simple can be so hard.

She peeled off her t-shirt and strolled to the shower, letting the cool water cascade down her body, at that moment everything seemed better than it was, always a waterbaby, it was her favourite place in the house.

She sighed and reached for her towel. You can do this! She thought to herself, pushing herself to the wardrobe to search for something to wear.
Finally after searching she found what she was looking for. The biggest t-shirt she had. Pulling it over her head she reached for her shorts and stopped.
No… She was fine… Wasn’t she..?
Her heart started beating like that of a hummingbird, her body suddenly jumpy and sweating… She could hardly swallow for the ball in her chest.
Her head pounding she slid to the floor, taking deep breaths, she could do this today. She wanted to go to the beach, so why why why did she feel this way? Why did this always happen?!
Tears sprung to her eyes, once again her body was giving in against her minds tricks.

She couldn’t find the strength to make her legs work.
The room that five minutes ago was filled with a beautiful afternoon light, a breeze running through the house, suddenly felt menacing. It started to close in around her. The light taunted her, the breeze had gone. The light was no longer beautiful but burning, scorching her pale skin, she could feel her skin screaming for mercy, her heart beating faster… Faster. The comfortable tee she had pulled on was strangling her, restricting her breathing… Too hot… It’s too hot. She could hardly breathe, her eyes swimming in and out of focus…
The soft material was scratching at her, pain striking all over like needles, she gasped and tried fruitlessly to release herself from her material prison…
And in a flash the fury arrived, like a lightning bolt through her body, the control of her limbs lost to her, her knuckles struck wood and bruised instantly, the pain only making her angrier.
-You’re WEAK, this was STUPID. YOU ARE STUPID! What a stupid idea! The beach? Yeah, right. Why would anyone want you there? They’d just stare at such a weirdo. Her mind snarled at her, the flow of insults spinning around her head.
Yanking the tee over her head she made herself into a ball in a dark corner, hating everybody she could hear in the street. How dare they pass by here laughing? Taunting her suffering?

And just like that the anger dissapated. Gone before she could control it, control herself… And in its place was the darkness it fed off… Her insides a hollow, cold, echoey place where the black dog that had her soul lived.

She reached for the door to help herself up but couldn’t even raise her hand anymore…
And so she gave in, the tears rolling down her coloured cheeks, her eyes grey, the blue bled out. What was the point in trying? She wondered how long it would be until she would see herself again, until he let her go, and for how long this time..? Surely this couldn’t last forever… Could it?

They say after the darkest hour comes dawn…

So there she sat, hugging her knees to her chest, in the corner of her beautiful room, waiting for her sunrise.

Derrame del-por Pasado-Presente.

Esta noche me pesa. Me sofoca y necesito dormir pero el sueño me evade. Oigo mi corazón cayendo en picado. Sus trozos finos como la arena blanca de una playa desierta, su sonido delicado como cristal al chocar lo que espero ser el fondo, casi melódico en su agonía. Como la agonía puede quitarme el aliento tras tanto tiempo jamás entenderé. Mi garganta cerrada como si alguien apoyara sobre ella evitando que mis lágrimas se desbordan, obligándolas a quedarse donde están, hundiendo mi mirada haciendo todo borroso. Siento que estoy debajo del mar, ahogandome completamente rodeada de aire. Nada da vueltas, todo esta demasiado quieto para mi corazón que late como si echara a correr. Paralizada sólo me queda mirar de frente, respirar y esperar que mi subconsciente tenga piedad de mi y me deje ser envuelta por la dulce, caliente oscuridad del inconsciente. Poder levantarme mañana con una sonrisa como si esta noche fuera una simple pesadilla, olvidada al abrir los ojos y no este peso constante que aprieta mi pecho amenazando con acabar conmigo.
Lo que más temo y más quiero es olvidarte.

Close to home.

Too close.

It’s been so long since I’ve been on this site, no computer and no strength to tell the truth.

I lost so much last year and the wins feel small against it all. They feel forgettable and that terrifies me. I don’t want to forget those tiny things that made me smile, made me push on…

Im determined to make up for that feeling this year, making it one impossible to forget, whatever happens let it be with a bang!

I came on to this page tonight to flood away these shakes I’m plagued with after watching a film with a plot revolving around a teenager being raped and seeing her rapist every day without anybody else knowing the truth. I felt sick but couldn’t stop… That person who destroyed who she was and made the person she became, everyone loving him and her swallowing down bile when seeing his face… It’s been years since it happened yet here I am, shaking as if it was yesterday. Her face and her feelings could have been mine, hers was a casual school mate, mine was my best friend, my boyfriend, the person who swore loved me the most and had me in the palm of his hand. He has who I was forever… That beautiful soul of mine will forever hold those scars and I can only whisper in hope that one day it won’t be this way… Something will change. It has got better but I will never get that girl back and he doesn’t deserve to keep her. One day I will find a way to set her free.  Tell the world to watch her shine… One day that girl will smile again.