Demons

I tried to kill my demons in different ways. I drank them to sleep. I cut them out of my skin. I drowned them out with loud music. I silenced them with words I read. Nothing helped. This demons are pestering little buggers. They will not leave. Once in a while their voices are quiet. But never for long. They like to torment me. Do you want to know what they say?

  • You’re ugly and fat
  • No one likes you
  • You want too much of everyone. No wonder they all run.
  • Untalented
  • Shut up, no one cares
  • Why should they?
  • Stop whining
  • You will never be good enough
  • You deserve this
  • Suck it up

This is just a sample, but these fuckers (“you swear too much”) never give up. There are days when I shrug it off, flip them off and go my own way. But doubt – man, doubt is a powerful thing. Once the seed is planted every good thing happening that very moment turns into something rotten. Why should anyone want to spend time with me? I should leave these people and their lives alone. And by spending time with me, I seldom mean real face to face encounters. Truth is, I dread meeting people. I hate to pick out clothes and shoes and do something with my hair. No matter what I am wearing, I am afraid too be judged. And after the judgment comes the rejection. At least that’s how my mind works. And I can’t handle rejection. I frightens me. It makes room for doubt. (Even the smallest and most unintentional form of of rejection does.) For the longest time, I thought I was alone in this. Maybe I was naive or something, but I couldn’t grasp the idea that other people are suffering too. I mean, apart from me, everyone is perfect. Their lives are perfect. It’s horse shit, of course, I know that. But that is not how my mind works. The grass is always greener on the other side. That’s my mind. Not seeing a tree while standing in a forest. That’s my mind too. And I hate to look vulnerable. I am already eccentric enough as it is. I keep my coffee in the fridge.

After I wrote that last sentence, a demon reared its head again. Why do you write stuff like this? No one will read it. You don’t matter. No one cares. Maybe that is true. Maybe no one cares, but maybe it makes people feel less alone. We all have our battles. Some days I wish I were a normal person. Some days I wish my mind wouldn’t play these tricks on me. Some days I wish I could see what other people see when they look at me. But it never happens. I have to deal with this. And I do it mostly on my own. I cannot find the words to speak about it. I cannot stand the look of pity in the people’s eyes who know. I cannot be a public failure. I cannot let them see… But I am here… Failing at life in plain sight. Failing. But also succeeding. And I have the scars to prove it. I have thousands of poems to prove it. I have laughing lines around my eyes to prove it. I am not failing every day. Some days, I am succeeding. Some days the demons are quiet. Those are the good days. They happen too. For no reason. Because I am learning that things happen for no reason. If I could only think less. Or maybe, keep thinking the same amount, but with more thoughts in favour of myself.

Because, truth be told, despite being trapped in a tunnel with only slight rays of light, I am an awesome woman. Maybe not awesome, but worthy. Worthy of time, understanding, and care.

Thank you

Random_20180530

Another night and I can’t sleep. Taking the phone in one’s hand in this situation is like adding the last nail to the coffin. I should know better by now, but I don’t. And I also don’t know what’s keeping me awake these days. I am tired, so so tired. Yet I can’t sleep. And I am not even busy thinking or over-thinking.

I will try to count sheep to go back to sleep. 🙂

Quote

to write anything, just let the words and ideas, the half remembered half forgotten images, tumble on the sheets of paper

~ Dylan Thomas

Paradise

In his arms was her paradise.

*

I have this sentence in my head for a while now. But I can’t seem to do something with it. No poetry, no flash fiction. I will find a way…

Alien

Alien
Can’t swim
Can’t fly
Can’t fight it.

What looks effortless to them
Is a slow death for him.

Night
Dark
Alone

What looks effortless to them
Is his slow death.

Drown
Fall
Surrender

What looks effortless to them
Lets him desintegrate.

Alien

Gone

I was most productive and creative while you walked next to me on my journey. You were that whisper that inspired me, the dream that haunted me. You were the determination that kept me going. And when you decided it was best for us to be apart, you became the essence of every poem I ever wrote. Your memory is fading and your voice is silent. My misery is less tormenting and my emotions less pronounced. Your soul is not entwined with mine anymore. Gone is my productive and creative streak.

A thousand lies

The more I think, the less I am

The more I love, the less I feel

The more I write, the less I know.

Whisper. Run. Slow.

All the flowers wilted

All the words lost their meaning

All the lives will fade.

Whisper. Run. Too late.

Nights turn into days

Friends turn into lovers

And we stop to remember.

Whisper. Run. Burning ember.

Throwback link

Throwback Link

I am happy. When I am happy, I am most often not inspired to write. My need to write often comes from a dark(er) place, hence the short writing notes lately and no new poetry at all. One of these days I will learn to channel the happiness and let it float into my writing.

I am sharing the above link, because it is still valid and quite coherent – for my standards. As you will notice, it has no likes and no comments, it was not tagged – that’s the reason for that. Feel free to explore the blog, there is a lot of content that has no tags but is worth your while.

I hope you are happy too.

Cathy

I thought about Jamie today with a smile. He used to be my best friend. This song always reminds me of him. (Jamie passed away in 2015)