Cactus & Balloon.

Have you ever felt ripped into two?

Literally, your body burning as if the skin were being torn.
I am both cactus and balloon.
I am both scared and brave.
I am both suicidal and full of life.
I am strong but weak.
Dizzy but standing strong.

I am terrified of loving but brave enough to run into a dog fight to save my dog from any harm, god forbid a single hair on his body is hurt and my fury shall be unleashed.
I want to live but that voice in my head whispering that death is my only option is a lot louder than that silence where laughter once lived.
I am strong enough to fight that voice but the tablets that help me are grinding me down, daily breaking my edges and crumbling me with every pain, every side effect weighing me down.
I stand but I’m not sure how, my world is spinning, like a child on a merry go round, there is no way to stop it, the faces blurring, my stomach clenching, holding on to the little food I give to my body…

I am both cactus and balloon…
I crave his arms but push them away, I crave to be their loved one, part of a family yet these thorns keep them away… Keep me away.
I try to cut them but I’m too weak to finish the job, they are too strong… I cut enough to be hugged but then I turn my back for a second and I’ve cut them, I feel the blood dripping from my barbs…
I am a cactus and happiness is a balloon, I am surrounded by balloons, doomed forever to watch from a distance and not touch for fear of exploding them.

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It’s Broken, I don’t want to play.

“I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m just not very good at this keeping in contact with people stuff…”

That’s the line, that’s the phrase that has broken me today. If it were a friend I could understand, I am also terrible at contact for the same reason, our upbringing showed us we didn’t need family, to the point that we now don’t understand it, yet we crave it.
He’s not good at communication but has a partner for as long as he’s been missing from my life. Mum has dad, my sister has her family, my grandma has her other grandchildren, my other side of the family I don’t think ever really accepted I existed.

I slipped through the cracks.

Who am I? Was I meant to be? You swore you wanted a boy & a girl… The girl being invisible…? Maybe it was just a childish dream that once true you regret, like getting a dog when you are an avid traveller…  It’s just cruel.

As time went on the phone calls grew further apart, the letters less, the christmas and birthday cards non existant… Did I cease to exist and somebody forgot to tell me?
I can’t completely blame them, mine ceased to exist to… But how to you reach out when moving your fingers over paper could burn them with the pain you feel? When you can’t lie like the rest, can’t smile and put on a show…? Should I smile as I tell you how much I want to slit my wrists? Let you laugh back as the blood drips, still not taking me seriously..?

I feel like a ghost, maybe I am one, that’s why I connect with so little people… Only those with the don. My mum sure looks through me as I pour my heart out. I wonder what happened to her, what made her so cold… Mechanical hugs that automatically count down the miliseconds and ring a buzzer to let go and his smile, the one practiced on clients is flashed at me as I leave, lucky me, such a wonderful family they say, they are wonderful people I say, smiling softly, my mind finishing the phrase, count your lucky stars they weren’t your parents…

Now don’t get my wrong, the guilt as I write this is burning my lungs, my breathing getting harder with every word, will I suffocate on the truth? My truth, as it is nobody elses, nobody else lived through it, nobody has seen anything, nothing every happened, I was always a “strange child”. Difficult, argumentative, told she wasn’t liked by her own mother… Told by her father that she didn’t deserve any friends, that she was a horrible person, whilst he smiled that sarcastic grin and another piece of that child died.

The weight on my shoulders, the word family the heaviest of all. It breaks me as it rains down on me, ever December alone, every birthday they forget, every day that passes is like a drop of water on the branch of a tree, the weight unnoticeable until all of sudden it’s too much and the branch bends… Sometimes it breaks…

If I died would they notice?

I truly ask myself this, this is a completely serious question in my mind? Would they take time off work to mourn me, to ask themselves who left them, would they remember who I am?

Who Am I, I asked her… Her lip trembled, she replied the same answers as a stranger would… This woman that birthed me… The one that promised to try harder and hasn’t called since.
I could feel the relief as she backed away in the car park, her sigh of finally releasing me again after not even a whole 24 hours together…

It’s not her fault, it’s nobodies. And I am nobody.

Would me dying finally bring them all together, create the family I’ve always wanted? Irony sweet irony.

They want to be close to their grandaughter… They ignored their children but want to make it right with her. You’re leaving it too late, you need to try harder, if you thought that the love you gave us will be enough, she won’t even feel the dust of it.
My childhood was a gentle breeze of something that felt like care mixed with the sour smell of abandonment, of busy parents and sad children.

They tried their best, they thought money would be important, time was just a word.
Years of working to the bone to survive, their pain etched on her face as she explained her half, as I listened, understanding every word, caring, her pain from this huge misunderstanding, my whole life a misunderstanding. Her eyes glazed as I told her I was raped by a boyfriend, I could see her mind working, wondering if I was lying, if I had misjudged it, not an inch of pain, no feeling of anger. Her mother instinct dormant since I can remember. My dream mother bear, the protection I craved cracking, my last hope of understanding her slipping away with the tears on my face, my emotions drying alongside them on the sheets. What was I to feel now?

I want a reclamation form, I want a redo, I want someone to explain to me how this can happen and nobody notice.

And finally we have arrived, once again to Platform 24 at Suicide Central, thank you for riding again miss Lucy, we hope you enjoy your timeless ticket, we recommend staying in memory lane for an extra special painful night and eat at the regret diner so you throw up later from crying into your milkshake of emotions.

Tomorrow is another day.

Stop being dramatic, I’ll be here, I have a train to catch. Now wave and smile as if you actually cared, even wave as if you’ll really miss me, that’s it.

Now my view is here, in public, where your image is more important than your daughter, the shame, oh the shame, oh the guilt… Oh the pain, oh those glances, it will all begin but I’m not scared anymore. Your wrath may burn but my skin are scales and the worst that can happen is that I die and I still end up winning so let the fire begin, let the pain reign, let it crackle and destroy the bridges, let happen what must.
Don’t say I didn’t try, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

It’s time.

“When you feel suicidal, the only rule is that you come to your next sesion with me and try and make sense of it with me, if it can’t be fixed, throw yourself off the ledge, if it can be fixed, we will, but you have to wait, promise me.”

Damn me and those stupid promises that I keep.
Must be because nobody ever kept one with me that they mean so much when they are just simple words. Just simple words… Blown away by the air.

But I promise Carlos.

 

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To all the people who agree with this post:
20882895_1960612827557975_4488751665222036085_nI have been fighting suicide for as long as I can remember and at one point these posts worked, the guilt worked. Now it just plain pisses me the fuck off.

What about the people who can’t afford help? Government help at least here in Spain is awful, their professionals push you further over the edge after months or years of waiting for help, that is absolutely crushing. Private professionals cost a lot of money most of us can’t afford, sometimes even if you can afford them, it just doesn’t work for you, everyone is different. Now what about the ones who’s family don’t give a shit and don’t make time for them even when they cry out for help, what about the people who’s friends aren’t there on those dark nights because they are busy or have their own shit? Or people that have nobody? And the ones that can’t work because their illness has got that bad so they are just stuck there hanging with no money? Are you going to pay their bills? Are you going to be there for them every single god damn time they need help? Because I haven’t found anyone strong enough yet to deal with what I live with. I live on meds that give me side affects that you would never wish to have to be able to lead a “half normal life” which doesn’t even fucking reach that level and my physical pain is stuff out of nightmares. Living every day in physical and mental pain on your own dealing with this on top of normal daily stress as people don’t take you seriously and still expect everything from you and you say we are selfish for wanting out?
Fuck that, you are the selfish ones for wanting us to stay, to endure this in hope that woweeee we can have one good day out of a month, one week maybe sometimes is an okay one, just so you can feel good and say “I saved them from suicide”, no, you forced them to live a life that you would never want for yourself and have no idea how shit that feels. We are here not to hurt you but in the process we get burned constantly for being a burden and being “hard work” or “complicated”, but if we leave we are cowards, we are selfish, we are cruel.

Now for the people that are now obviously going to say people die everyday from illnesses and want to live, I’m so sorry, we want to live too but unlike a broken leg, unlike a head injury, a car accident because you drunk drove, unlike a stab wound when you decided to pick a fight, we don’t get helped in the ER, we get told to go away, we get forgotten, we get made fun of and made into memes and turned into someone labeled as lazy and told to “snap out of it”. Snap out of that broken leg dude, it’s just a bone, come on, you can crawl… You’d never say that. Ever. Yet we get told that every single freaking day.

Fuck that, I’m so sorry about people that get taken before their time but also people should have the right to decide when they want to die without judgement. You can put an animal down in dignity because it’s “humane” but humans get locked away and drugged and abused de trying to do what they have decided is best, not just for themselves but for the people around them.
Fuck that, people that commit suicide are not selfish, we can’t expect you guys to be here for us, to spend your whole lives taking care of us and we are freeing you of that as WE NEED THAT and nobody can give it to us. It’s not fair on us and it’s not fair on you.

So if your friend is seriously suicidal, not just a phase, but has been through the doctors appointments, has tried their freaking hardest and still wants to do it, respect them and enjoy every moment by their side.

You don’t feel their pain, you can’t hear those voices, don’t judge.

Countdown.

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.

30minutes.
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.

Stop. Start.

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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…