My Shadow Is The Only One Who Walks Beside Me... in Chapter 9 : Oil Above Water
- June 23, 2018, 1:22 a.m.
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- Public
I’m not okay right now.
Life is essentially a rope swing that I’ve thrown on and I’m clinging on for dear life because if I let go then I will fall and drown in the abyss below. The darkness that resides there rises at every opportunity to nip at my ankles as I swing between what I have been and where I’m trying to, it does so in order to distract me just enough that I lose my grasp and fall screaming into the belly of this beast that wants to swallow me whole.
There is no trigger anymore. My brain has simply fallen apart like a jigsaw left in the box, and for all the people trying to put it back together so that I can see the bigger picture, there seems to be a piece missing. The war between Ana and Mia came to a silent end and Ana returned victorious to stand upon my shoulders. The strangest thing is that I no longer care, she can stand on my shoulders and tell me no. I’m fed up of fighting all these fucking issues and demons all the goddamn time. I know I need some sort of regular talking therapy, not to try and resolve the past, not to try and sew up the present in some sort of pretty bow with a congratulatory rosette that screams “good effort” as my soul continues to scream inside. I think I need a regular talking therapist to keep me the fuck alive. Of course I’m not going to kill myself. I can’t. I won’t do that to my kids. I refuse to do that to my kids. Ma was never there for me, except occasionally physically, I know what it’s like to not have your Mum about, I know how cutting that is, I know the scars that leaves deep inside. I won’t do that to my kids. They are literally the only thing thing keeping me tethered to this godforesaken life.
I joined a medical trial. A mental health medical trial. They’re looking to see if there’s something in the blood to try and help diagnose Bipolar faster than they currently do. I don’t think I’m Bipolar. It’s never been diagnosed but then again, I don’t think they’ve ever looked, or thought to. I’ve certainly never opened up enough to tell them what’s really going on in my head because then that’s brings in a whole load of shit that end my career before it’s even begun.
Fuck this actual life.
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