Marching to the beat
No sounds, nor voices.
But I hear it.
Dull, nearly inaudible;
But I can hear it.
An evolving tempo:
Deepening the rumble.
Then, before long, something’s-
The world’s ambient noises fade;
All but the deafening percussion.
As it draws on your thoughts,
It grows louder &that’s when:
The beat hastens your breath,
The rumbling offsets your heart,
While amplifying- the need.
Observing the changes,
Your eyes close: darting back &forth,
You see it, no words, just actions;
Your heart quickens; adjusting…
Following the tempo in your mind.
It’s everywhere, it’s everything.
Moving your limbs,
Until there’s nothing left,
But your mind,
The growing tempo,
The liberating movements,
& it’s temporary freedom.
Within these walls, reside five individuals- a gathering of misfits minds: a troubled young soul, a tragically broken heart, a tuckered out body, a tumultuous voice &a tremulous existence.
This collection- handcrafted by pain, live’s its life like a moths to a flame. Living on a collision course with eruption, they’re being corrupted by emotion. Drowned out by a tumultuous voice &roughed up by a tired body, these individuals became soldiers.
These eruptions leave them broken, recovering from, what feels like irreparable damage. They’re setting the ground a flame &these flames… have ignited a war.
FI: Home by TheOnlyFallacy
Tossing &turning, comfort is elusive
Within the confines of her mind.
Aroused suddenly- alarmed;
Distress collects in beads,
Running down her forehead.
Daunted- Her dream fades,
Retreating to her subconscious.
Looking around: her bedroom;
A familiar place, albeit her feelings-
That create a dissociation.
These four walls are just that,
With the veil of home,
Lifting with each passing day,
She has reached a breaking point.
Though consciously unaware of her dream,
Its warning, now a distant memory;
She’s enticed by exhaustion’s whisper.
Silently struggling, within the confines of her mind:
She attempts to remember
The cause of her distress.
Though her mind, like a crossword without the clues,
Exceeds her capabilities in its clouded state.
Dream…or memory repressed,
She begins to drift,
Back into unconsciousness:
A state of suspended animation-
I’m conscious- but something’s wrong; I don’t know where I am…
The cold air unleashed a battalion of goosebumps upon my skin, rousing me from my sleep. The ground is hard, I thought- it feels like concrete against my ear. Gradually allowing my mind to process, I sit up, realizing it’s dark- too dark &quiet; no visible windows, no distinguishing sounds.
Suddenly I’m overwhelmed by panic, I’m starting to feel exposed, like, someone’s in here. It was then something overtook me… not quite a feeling, more a tangible entity, like a hand on my shoulder. It’s touching me- hugging me, I’m saved. For a moment I allow my eyes to close, basking in this feeling of protection.
Temporary, like the pain I’ve felt time &time again- the moment of relief returns to terror. Let go, let go, I thought, as it bonded with me. I screamed. I shook. I fought until my energy was spent.
I gave in.
It was then, it chose to reveal itself. Then as my body slumped, as I accepted my fate; did it reveal its face.
It was me: distorted, misshapen; broken.
Dreams are mysterious things. What do you think it means? #00Dreamer
FI: Roberto Kusterle
Walls- never seemed so interesting
As they appeared that dreary day.
Onlookers stare- but nothing’s there-
Just my mind losing its will.
Alone, I sat pretending
Though pages were left unturned.
Tormented by my crowded mind
I pleaded with life for mercy.
Moving Bodies- such commotion;
Their smiles provoking my motive.
I knew to make my leave,
Before my choice was altered.
My room, where thoughts would fester,
Rooting demons to the soul.
Drawing on my essence while-
Kindling my destruction.
Depression converted to sorrow;
Happiness became morose.
Extinguishing my sense of self,
My ashes smouldered within.
Ruminant thoughts: a flame.
Burning as it reaches the roots.
The pangs tore me asunder,
Setting my spirit ablaze.
Much to my surprise,
The flames burned root instead.
Proving I was stronger,
Than the voices in my head.
Header: Gemma Johnson
Ended my relationship a few days back; overwhelmed by rage. My (now) ex &a friend that I had been staying with for two weeks decided to stage an intervention. Not for drug abuse or alcoholism… but for mental health. If you follow me on twitter, you know that I suffer from a collection of mental…health…dilemmas. But I’m open &upfront about my feelings &as best as I can, my thought processes.
December 20 to January 3, I stayed with the friend, I didn’t trust myself to be alone. I should have admitted myself to a hospital, but I was scared. Never mentioned how I was feeling, thinking that I could do it on my own. Instead what happened was a NYE mistake; lost my relationship, but learned a valuable lesson: I need to do this for myself &on my own. No more co-dependency, no asking for a million opinions; making decision for myself to better myself.
The NYE mistake: I ditched a romantic evening &champagne for drugs and alcohol. I know, I know, it was an easily avoidable mistake, but I misjudged my progress; I thought that if I brought just enough wine for a glass &a half to a party, that I could do both. Unfortunately, I couldn’t squeeze out enough willpower- once the drugs came out. So fast forward two days of me kicking myself only to be ambushed with an intervention.
The basic gist of their arguments were:
- My living environment is poor
- I’m making no effort to advance my life &start my career
- I’m selfish and not thinking about how my actions affect others
- I’m not making progress in my treatment
I think it was the shots at my progress that hurt the most: I barely drink anymore; it increases my impulsive/aggressive behaviour, I rarely see old friends; my major connection to drugs &alcohol, I’m taking my meds &I’m seeing a therapist for crying out loud!- how isn’t that progress?! *Big Sigh*
Thanks for your support/reading, stay strong.
Little Red Riding Hood has always been my favourite Fable; I believe it tells a tale of bravery. A show of a tenacious child &the power of love. I fear generally everything, courtesy of my Anxiety, so the idea that a child- someone often told they’re too…- insert generally inappropriate reason for inadequacy here- it seemed unimaginable &I envied her. As someone who’s struggled personally with this, it makes me ashamed of myself for my differences.
Mental Illness strikes at inappropriate times; &we believe it’s an inconvenience. Whether you are the sufferer: who tried desperately to belong in the world; or a friend who “understands but has never been there,” you should never feel guilty. We aren’t here just to watch the seasons change. We all fall down, to climb back up.
Feeling like what’s the point, just a lot of mixed emotions. *sigh* This could be the last post for a while. The brain fog makes it hard to think.
Sometimes you meet people in life that you connect with; in ways, you never dreamt possible. You feel they understand you -&they do,- in ways unimaginable. But- &there’s always a but- for someone like me: quiet &odd, someone who knows many people but only feels connected to a few, you always have a sense of dread as you wait for that fateful day to come around. The day when you lose another friend to your emotions &feel that much worse about yourself.
I am a carelessly guarded castle. I tried to defend my heart from people to protect myself from the inevitable pangs of pain; the feelings that come with basic human interaction- the thing I’m not so good at- but instead I created a monster. The monster tells me that they wouldn’t like me anyway, that I’m boring, undeserving- a parasite. That my sole purpose is to use them to fill the void in my chest. Which in part, is true, but it is so much more than that. Nevertheless, the monster grows until I need out. So my mind breaks the emergency glass; then what started perhaps as a defends mechanism, becomes volatile. You shut down, no emotions, no feeling: complete numbness. It works for a time, takes the edge off, but it never goes away. Surprise, it’s worse than before you left, it’s grown &it’s too much to fight alone.
Loneliness has been such a trigger for me that it has sent me into downward spirals of anxiety, depression &eventual rash decisions that could have cost me my life. (I’ll leave that for another confession). These last three years: I have lost pieces that may not have been mine to hold forever, but I’ve learned a thing or two about myself, because of them. These people have become: milestones, medals; memories.
Header: The Camera Collection