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What a Boring Old Shame

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The alarm clock cannot defend itself,

My heavy hand scraping at its face,

Rolling over to flick the snooze button,

I grumble with distaste.

Dreaming that I’m Queen of England,

Sitting high upon my throne,

Throwing orders at my servants,

Drinking cream tea with a scone.

 Suddenly church bells are shrieking!

 And I’m falling from my seat,

Crumbs and tea flying everywhere,

 As I scramble to my feet.

Abruptly my eyes ping open,

Where am I!? I exclaim,

Waking up under my bed sheets,

What a boring old shame!

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Patient Mental

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“Have you ever confused a dream with life? Or stolen something when you have the cash? Have you ever been blue? Or thought your train moving while sitting still? “  (Girl Interrupted)

The structure of my entire personality is  built using the identity, ideology, and the wishes of others. I feel like a parasite, leaching from the personalities of those i know.  Everyday I wake up, look in the mirror to  and watch myself drift slowly down into the abyss of nothingness. There is no personality inside this being, there is nothing but a stone cold void. Its like i’ve never really exsisted.

Life has become a hectic journey of nauseating ups and terrifying downs, and there is no way of opting out .  The medication I have been prescribed has thrown me into this dazed version of a life where all I can do is react, never act. The world is in slow motion and i’m simply surviving as a sample of a soul, made to look like a human being.

There are days when I dont want to breathe, to feed my being. I want nothing. To be blank. Away from me. Dont talk to me. Dont be nice to me. Dont make me like you. It makes it worse. To live a life of hatred for who I am. Nothing changes. Dont look at me. Dont ask me questions. Dont listen to me. Stop. Finish me, end me, erase me.

Living with this mental illness is one gigantic struggle. I see the light at the end of the tunnel,  for it to vanish. Sudden glimpses of what its like to be ‘normal’ but they never last. Its like climbing a mountain with the summit just out of reach, only to get lost in the clouds. To  then be found at the bottom again with an empty bottle of pills or a squirting artery.

Living an exsistance of feeling small, worthless, stupid, inferior. I hate myself, I truly detest every inch of myself. It can be incredibly hard to believe that I am loved by those close to me. I find myself questioning their motives. Simply because, why would anyone love this!? I’m certain that I am a pathetic excuse of a human being.

I have been been laying here for hours, plagued by insomnia. Now the sun is up and I can hear people in their cars going to work, going about their normal lives.  I have become to despise sunrise because I should be living out there in the real world. But i’m a crazy insomniac who is not trusted to leave the house as i’m apparently a ‘threat to myself and others’. What am I doing? I’m off work. Why? Whats going on?  I want more than anything to go back to work and start living again. I want to re-take the  A-levels that my illness took away from me.  I’m certain my Psychiatrist does not believe me. Maybe he should be here when i’m beating the walls.

S

A few extracts from my journal with a few new thoughts.
 

Protected: Frankly.

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