heart or no heart
Desdemona
20/06/2018 at 3.51pm
I can feel my mental pain evolve into physical pain. My stomach aches, my mind vibrates with discomfort and my eyes ache from the light around me. I want to hibernate in a dark room and sleep myself to recovery. I wait every single day to wake up feeling a little better like some sort of illness.
No one properly understands an ultimate outsider. My body and my head are trying to make me completely unapproachable.
No one properly understands an ultimate outsider. My body and my head are trying to make me completely unapproachable.
I don't like to hear my voice on recording, it sounds very un-feminine. A lot of things about me are not feminine, and I feel like it makes me ugly as a girl. I don't get along with other girls, I feel like they don't understand me, my sense of humour or have a similar way of thinking to me. And I wonder if many people can understand me or if I'm just an outcast of the world. I crave validation and love and reassurance but then I feel like I'm not worthy of it.
HEART OR NO HEART
I don't have a heart, I don't have any internal organs.
My body limps around, from door to door light as a feather
I find the corridors of hospitals comforting, the smells of cleaning fluids
The one place where I feel I could be helped, on the inside
As though a surgery would fix me through and through
There is a seed of hope in the hospital rooms,
That I deliver myself into someone else's analysis,
To see if they would discover something that is slowly killing my spirit
But its not in my body
It's in my head, my head, my head
And no surgery can repair it, it's all my own doing
So it's on me, I have to be the surgeon in this life
Unqualified, using the tools to harm myself instead of help
I don't trust myself, but I trust the hope of something bigger than me,
I have a heart and lungs and a heavy soul,
I drag it around from door to door, imprinting my footsteps in the path
Help, help her, her soul is too big for her body and it thinks its already dead
This head could not be full of life, it acts like it wants to perish
And so my soul catapaults itself to heaven, only to return back like an elastic.
My mania towards heaven, my depression towards hell
Impending sorrow is always inevitable but stability is unattainable
Taxing feelings, taxing therapy, emotionally bankrupt, psychologically blind
Autopsy on my heart, black blood pours into your exposed hands
A qualified surgeon, performing on the dead
Skillset gone to waste on time-thieved flesh
Studied to save, destined to lose
In my heart I have a lot of passion, a need for validation and acceptance. I think all people do crave acceptance in their own personal way, but my way is very dark and all-consuming. I wrap my whole existence inside a bundle of what people think of me, and whether they like me drives me to live. If nobody cared for me, or even expressed any feelings towards me, I'd feel like a blank piece of paper until they address me in a certain way that tells me how I should act around them. I feel like an actor without a script in a Broadway production, filled with anxiety and oblivious to everybody watching me.
I don't know too much about my inner core, other than the fact it could be blank. And I'm just one blank human being looking for strong and determined people to write all over me, to breathe some life into an otherwise tragic and lifeless soul.
And then, on the complete opposite side of my page, is wild colours and uncontrollable desire for the positive things in life, confident enough to make a positive impact that is caged away by my fear. I think I could be a better person and make some sort of a difference if I was less afraid of writing my own life script instead of people writing it for me. I crave direction and instruction from someone who seems more able-minded than myself. That's why I'm attracted to the stubborn and dark nature of Capricorns. My first love was with a Capricorn, and still is, he guides me like I'm disabled, because it is me who has made myself crippled - not him. I sit and wait like I can't walk or am testing how far my patience runs before it unfurls into despair and bitterness. I force my own attitudes onto myself that I beg people closest around me to tell me aren't true.
Why do I do this? Why is it that I place myself in such a low position on the earth's surface, ruling out anything lovely as a possibility of attainment? I think the answer to this question is very cliche, and very true. My childhood was led by my mother's 'others-before-you' attitude, this rarely applied to her, only to what it seemed to be other family members. This was shown through things like waiting for everybody in public transport to leave before we left, always placing myself at the bottom of the barrel with everything. The bullying I experienced at a young age for being an imaginitive sort of kid who was different to most of the others was something in a way, traumatic.
I dislike to use the word 'traumatic', because I feel like that word should be reserved for those who have been left completely altered in their psyche from some terrifying experience like veterans of war. But it did traumatise me. I was scared, I was left with an altered state of mind, one that was originally golden and healthy with full of fantasies about dragons, mythical creatures and faraway lands in hidden forests to feeling like the earth was turning grey and all the trees were rotting around me. I felt decay in every sense of the world, I felt it in my heart and soul with such intensity that when I would be in a fit of tears and gasping for air to fill the vast emptiness inside me, I'd sink into my bed like I was pouring the dirt over my coffin to settle me into my resting place - because within the truth of truths I had, I was convinced my heart could take no more and would simply refuse to beat.
Studied to save, destined to lose
In my heart I have a lot of passion, a need for validation and acceptance. I think all people do crave acceptance in their own personal way, but my way is very dark and all-consuming. I wrap my whole existence inside a bundle of what people think of me, and whether they like me drives me to live. If nobody cared for me, or even expressed any feelings towards me, I'd feel like a blank piece of paper until they address me in a certain way that tells me how I should act around them. I feel like an actor without a script in a Broadway production, filled with anxiety and oblivious to everybody watching me.
I don't know too much about my inner core, other than the fact it could be blank. And I'm just one blank human being looking for strong and determined people to write all over me, to breathe some life into an otherwise tragic and lifeless soul.
And then, on the complete opposite side of my page, is wild colours and uncontrollable desire for the positive things in life, confident enough to make a positive impact that is caged away by my fear. I think I could be a better person and make some sort of a difference if I was less afraid of writing my own life script instead of people writing it for me. I crave direction and instruction from someone who seems more able-minded than myself. That's why I'm attracted to the stubborn and dark nature of Capricorns. My first love was with a Capricorn, and still is, he guides me like I'm disabled, because it is me who has made myself crippled - not him. I sit and wait like I can't walk or am testing how far my patience runs before it unfurls into despair and bitterness. I force my own attitudes onto myself that I beg people closest around me to tell me aren't true.
Why do I do this? Why is it that I place myself in such a low position on the earth's surface, ruling out anything lovely as a possibility of attainment? I think the answer to this question is very cliche, and very true. My childhood was led by my mother's 'others-before-you' attitude, this rarely applied to her, only to what it seemed to be other family members. This was shown through things like waiting for everybody in public transport to leave before we left, always placing myself at the bottom of the barrel with everything. The bullying I experienced at a young age for being an imaginitive sort of kid who was different to most of the others was something in a way, traumatic.
I dislike to use the word 'traumatic', because I feel like that word should be reserved for those who have been left completely altered in their psyche from some terrifying experience like veterans of war. But it did traumatise me. I was scared, I was left with an altered state of mind, one that was originally golden and healthy with full of fantasies about dragons, mythical creatures and faraway lands in hidden forests to feeling like the earth was turning grey and all the trees were rotting around me. I felt decay in every sense of the world, I felt it in my heart and soul with such intensity that when I would be in a fit of tears and gasping for air to fill the vast emptiness inside me, I'd sink into my bed like I was pouring the dirt over my coffin to settle me into my resting place - because within the truth of truths I had, I was convinced my heart could take no more and would simply refuse to beat.
For my youngest years on this earth I know I was introduced to a world that was very unforgiving of differences and I really struggled to identify with the people who followed that virtue. I tried to remain semi-different, and cling on to the remaining shards of an imaginative spirit, but even the slightest glimmers of that trait seemed to attract these unforgiving people like sharks to blood.
Eventually, I was sick of being the prey. I fell into the trap of just tossing away the last remnants of imagination and creativity that I had tried so hard to protect. I think this moment in my transition from child to young adult was a painful experience to grieve the loss of my imagination and those who led me to discard it.
Eventually, I was sick of being the prey. I fell into the trap of just tossing away the last remnants of imagination and creativity that I had tried so hard to protect. I think this moment in my transition from child to young adult was a painful experience to grieve the loss of my imagination and those who led me to discard it.
Childhood ends when you learn to restrain the things within you that make you cherish the day. And in doing that, I became as miserable as the unforgiving people around me and I never realised until I became one of them how miserable they truly were.
These people had no concept of the therapy in reading and drawing and making a fool of yourself to feel a sense of freedom in a caged-up world. They didn't allow themselves to feel it. I am in the process now of digging through a painful mountain full of the dead shards of myself trying to rediscover my imagination and creativity, and get cut on the memories they are buried beneath. To think that I forced myself to throw these great attributes I had away, seems painful to even think about. If I had just held on to those things, they would have given me purpose and a drive. Because now, I've made myself so blank.
I don't want to be blank anymore, I don't ever want to be blank again. I don't want to ever fall in love for somebody else because I can feel the soft heart within them beat at the same pace as my own with a heavy cross to bear. I feel all these things, I fall in love so easily with everyone and every thing. And it's now my responsibility to break this cycle of me being crippled to the point of imagining a day in time where I could take my own life.
These people had no concept of the therapy in reading and drawing and making a fool of yourself to feel a sense of freedom in a caged-up world. They didn't allow themselves to feel it. I am in the process now of digging through a painful mountain full of the dead shards of myself trying to rediscover my imagination and creativity, and get cut on the memories they are buried beneath. To think that I forced myself to throw these great attributes I had away, seems painful to even think about. If I had just held on to those things, they would have given me purpose and a drive. Because now, I've made myself so blank.
I don't want to be blank anymore, I don't ever want to be blank again. I don't want to ever fall in love for somebody else because I can feel the soft heart within them beat at the same pace as my own with a heavy cross to bear. I feel all these things, I fall in love so easily with everyone and every thing. And it's now my responsibility to break this cycle of me being crippled to the point of imagining a day in time where I could take my own life.
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