Don’t, please….

She’s talking to angels, she’s counting the stars. She’s making a wish on passing cars. She’s dancing with strangers, she’s falling apart.

I painted this when words failed me. When words become superfluous and emotions are all that show. Raw, hurting emotions just waiting to burst out. Caged and stuffed into a small container, like a shaken bottle of pop.

 

Don’t send me away, I promise I’ll improve, please. Please, I’m not that messed up, I’m not that bad. Please don’t send me away to some facility. I don’t want to leave school either. What’s wrong, am I not making enough progress for you?

Am I getting too much of a burden?

Am I getting in everyone’s way?

What’s wrong, why am I not getting better?

Is this not enough?

Am I trouble and too much to handle that you need me to think about a higher level care? I promise I’ll work harder, I’ll push through, I’ll force myself. Please don’t send me away. Please….

Lets go back to the start

She refused to cave in. she ignored the signs.

She ignored the tingling behind her nose, she ignored the hot tears waiting to just fall off. She just continued to look out the window and stare at the stars, yearning for their freedom and beauty. A couple sniffles here and there, but in her mind she passed it off as a cold. He turns the corner and cuts the engine, filling the car with unbearable silence.

He sighs a worrisome sigh and turns to her, his hand cupping her cheek. She looks up, knowing that she’s finally managed to cage her beast and not cry. He lifts his hand, takes off her glasses and with the back of his index knuckle he gently swipes her right eye.

Such a small motion.

Such a tiny movement.

Whether it was to check for tears or whether it was to wipe her tear, she would never know now. But with that one tiny gesture, he let loose a waterfall of emotions and tears. With that one small movement, he breaks down her defenses.

An Image of Depression

Youre strapped to a chair, but in your hands is a ball of light. At this point, its easier to bear the anger and frustration that courses through your veins from being held down on a chair.

Suddenly that light is snatched away from you and instead of just anger, now theres panic and grief. The ball is meters away from you. Even as you reach towards it, theres no way to grab it again. It shines upon nothing, all the darkness around it swallows up the light.

No matter how much you grunt, scream, thrash, sweat, pour, cry, hurt, there seems to be no way of getting out of the restrains to reach the ball. When you turn around you see others also in restraints and they fight and grunt as much as you do, but unlike you, they all manage to get up and reach to the ball and walk away.

You know that if they can reach the ball, so can you. But no matter how hard it is, no matter how hard you fight, theres just no way of reaching the light. So you give up and just sit there. Your shirt soaked in blood sweat and tears. You just sit there, exhausted, looking longingly at the ball. And then someone comes up to you and says “dude, youre not even fighting to get the ball, how on earth do you expect to get it?”

So you look at him with your tired eyes, too exhausted to even defend yourself.

Because there can be no true despair without a bit of hope.

Dont you dare tell us we’re not fighting. Our struggles are inside, not outside. We dont talk about it because its not like your problems of “oh no, wheres my homework?” Dont you dare judge us. Because dont you DARE blame us. Because we fight. All the bloody time. Just because you dont see our internal struggle doesnt mean it doesnt bloody exist!

Cold Embrace

It’s no surprise. I won’t be here tomorrow
I can’t believe that I stayed ’til today

 

All I wanted was for you to know. Everything I do I give my heart and soul.

It’s getting harder to keep fighting. I can feel the fight slowly leave me. Remind me who I am. Remind me what I’m fighting for. Remind me why I’m holding on. Convince me that it’s worth it. 

Ambiguity

It’s not big, it’s not obvious, but it grows and grows on you until its weight is too much to bear and you crumble below it. The black hole that you carry on your shoulders – it cant be put down.

I see a beautiful sunset and all i want to do is to cry. I start to wonder when i can ever feel the happiness, so carefree, so alive, so breathless, so amazing.

(c) SolaceinSubconscious

 

Find Me Now

Painted this in the middle of my study session. It goes out to all of you.

To those who cry themselves to calm down for no reason whatsoever.

To those who take a blade to make a mark.

To those whose blood flow just isn’t enough.

To those who have the inexplicable urge to throw everything up.

To those who hyperventilate in panic attacks.

To those who just can’t seem to do anything.

To those who just need everything to stop.

To those who don’t know how to wake up in the morning.

To those who don’t know how to sleep at night.

To those who have disturbing nightmares at night.

To those who struggle every single step of the way.

To those who sit in the closet and rock away the demons.

To those who cuddle under the blanket too scared to get out of bed.

To those who waste away in front of the telly because there’s no thought process in the brain.

To those who feel impeccably alone. You’re not alone.

Doubts

I drew this. It was quite cathartic. I’m in that phase again. Where I doubt everything. Maybe it was my bad scores that pushed me over this time. Maybe it’s just me. I don’t know. I’m doubting everything now. I’m doubting that I really want to recover. I’m doubting that I’m going to ever recover. I”m doubting that I’ll ever be normal. No, I’m never gna be normal – you all know that… Crying spells and everything is coming down towards me again. This time I don’t cut. No, I’m smarter than scars now. It’s black and green and blue. It wont last, it’s not as painful. But it seems to help. Or maybe I’m the one needing help. Help. Please. I’m losing it.

A StandStill Moment

Where do you look? Where do you run? Where do you hide? Where do you go?

The air conditioner is blowing gently,

the post-its and tissues are swaying from the gentle breeze.

my desk lamp continues to shine it’s brilliant white light,

there are papers scattered around my table.

my books stacked in one big pile,

a notebook and pen lies close to me.

my notebook has a little tear on it’s edge,

my pen is chipped off on it’s tip.

the things you notice only when you’re quiet, The things that you think about only when you’re alone. The things that haunt you. They come back in the worst possible time, they come back in the terrible-est moments and they come back unsuspectingly. When I just thought I was going through it and going to be okay, it reminds me that once more, I’m not. I’m frankly quite embarrassed to say that I saw in my bath tub, submerged in hot water and just cried. I sat there sobbing and sobbing for no reason what so ever.  Have you cried for no reason? It hurts because the moment you start thinking that you’re better, you’re reminded that you aren’t.

All of a sudden, your train of thought that you had no idea you were straining to control burst into this chaotic mess worse than the Grand Central Station at peak hour. Suddenly the ability to follow a thought vanishes. And suddenly you’re trapped in a dark room and the brain chatter dies immediately. The silence is so loud that it pounds in your ears. Your emotions fleet away from you and lock themselves up in a box. But with one wave, everything returns back and crowds your head, overwhelms you. and suddenly it’s so overwhelming that tears pour out uncontrollably.

And you ask yourself: When does it ever stop?

A Lot Of Times…

A lot of times I find myself not willing to even participate in class.

A lot of times I find myself wishing I had just slept in and not come to class.

A lot of times I wished I understood what the professor is saying.

A lot of times I wonder what did the uni see in my resumé that made them think I’m worth being in this prestigeous public uni.

A lot of times I wonder what I am doing.

A lot of times I wonder what life would be like if I had no depression or eating disorders or other shits.

A lot of times I don’t want to socialise at all.

A lot of times I just ride on my bike with no destination just to try and clear my head.

A lot of times I get so lost in my thoughts that I don’t know what I’m thinking.

A lot of times I stuff myself with food.

A lot of times I refuse to eat.

A lot of times I had to swallow down hot tears.

A lot of times I’m sick of life.

But a lot of times I think of the small things that pushed me to continue with life, knowing that IF I had already made it this far, I can continue with recovery and  become a better person.

A lot of times, I rely on faith to put one step in front of the other to keep walking.

What’s the Point?

This picture was taken with my Canon60D back in Singapore. It was super serene and tranquil. I felt like my shutter sound had cracked it’s serenity for a brief moment. I miss this, I miss being able to be alone. I miss the peacefulness that I use to possess even in the midst of acquaintances and friends….

Tell me, tell me I’m not the only one who doesn’t want friends. I don’t. I know this sounds ridiculous but I’m really sick of having to make new friends. Don’t judge me. My parents are breathing down my neck because I refuse to go to any social activities. Hell, I got callbacks from an a Capella group audition but ultimately didn’t make it in. What other confirmation can I get? I’m so sick of having to repeat myself over and over again. I’M PERFECTLY FINE BEING BY MYSELF.

I don’t care if I go to the arcade and play by myself. I don’t care if I eat lunch by myself. I don’t care if I lie and read a book on the quad lawn by myself. I don’t care if I go to the library by myself. I don’t care if I have to go home by myself. I don’t care if i have to spend friday nights alone. I don’t care if I have no particular plans on a weekday.  I DON’T FREAKING CARE. In fact, I’d say I rather enjoy it!

I’ve gone through so many different stories. I can’t. I just can’t. I don’t want to have to do that. Yes, I had friends before, but they grew up with me. It’s different. I don’t want to repeat history – the backstabbing, the lies, the fake smiles, the judging. I’M DONE.