Not quite holding things together

Dad came round for breakfast. I was making him a bacon sandwich. I lit the wrong hob and melted my toaster, as apposed to cooking the bacon. Dad made himself a bacon sandwich, and one for me, and complained that he could have had a bacon sandwich at home if he was going to make it himself. Didn’t eat much of my bacon sandwich. Feel sick.

My brain has slowed right down. I’m pretty sure I've had a nervous breakdown. I am so tired. Exhausted. But I want to stay awake. I want to get better. I just thought I saw a black shadow in the window. Washing machine is doing my head in. I need quiet. At least I’ve finally put the washing on though stormy outside. How can I feel so scared when I have 2 locks on my door, a lock on the front door? I need to close and lock all the windows. I don’t even like to walk around my home incase I cause a disturbance or got noticed. I want a cup of tea. Keep forgetting how to make one. Will have to boil the kettle and stand next to it.

Made a cup of tea.

Just spilt it down my freshly laundered, fluffy, clean dressing gown. What is the point in washing? We’re only going to get dirty again.

Have Bert and Ernie for company. Its nice how they seem to love me so much. They get me. Wonder how friends are getting on camping. Still gutted I couldn’t go. Not because I wish I was there, because I don’t, but just to prove myself and everyone wrong. Not that they need proving wrong, or that I should even give a shit as much as I do. I can function normally.
Except I can’t. I’m trying, but I cant. And I want to be able to.
But the truth is, I am glad im not with them, I am happier in my flat. Tucked away, hidden.

Tucked away, hidden.

 Warm. Safe. Dressing gown and slippers at 4pm. Cup of tea. Trying to keep my eyes open and type without so many spelling mistakes (this wouldn’t make much sense at all without spell check by the way, not that it probably does much anyway). 

Need computer by bed. Body aches. Need to lie down. Want to stay awake otherwise how am I ever going to write this blog! Must set up computer by bed. Annoying virtual words in my head. The voice of my keyboard. Can’t get it out.

Going for a lie down.

Got up again. Body exhausted. My brain and her brain just numb, but the torment between the two of us restless, agonizing. Both trapped inside me. My voice is too small. My body is too big. It doesn’t interact with my head. Or hers. My words scroll down like the credits at the end of a film. I watch them. I hear them. I believe them. where am I in all of this?

Screaming

She bites her lip and takes a deep breath, the ache of an empty pain traveling up her chest, she closes her eyes wincing to herself, then looks up at the sky, silent tears sliding down her cheeks.

She knows her problem, and she knows what she needs to do, but she doesn’t want to, she wants to believe, and she wants to show them she can keep going, but she cant.

She looks down at her body and curses, why the fuck would god make her like that? She was ugly, she didn’t know why he bothered, and she would always be hurt, no matter what he did, she would never forgive herself for the crap she had done. And she would never believe anyone when they said they loved her. It was bullshit and she knew it.

She kicked a piece of ice, feeling the pain grip her heart and squeeze, the pain became rage it felt ready to burst out. The rage took control of her body, her guts were being shredded, her arms were electric, and her whole body trembled with anguish and pain.

She knows bno-one could love her and it rips her apart, she knew it all along. in the beginning she knew they didn’t mean it, and yet she couldn’t give it up, the idea that someone could love her, it was refreshing, amazing, and most defiantly enchanting. But now that the feelings had her for so long, she couldn’t, and she wouldn’t be blind anymore.

The tears came back, flooding her face and blurring her vision, the tears stung her eyes, and rage was bursting from every unblocked poor. She kicked the curb, breaking three toes, but she didn’t notice. she stormed down an old ally filled with graffiti and broken glass, she took off her boots and flung them up onto a rickety fire escape and walked barefooted over the broken glass, stomping and dragging her feet till they were a bloody mess. she felt the heat rise through her as the warm red blood pooled around her feet. She went to a broken window and hit her head against the sharp spikes of glass still there, and then her head was silent. There was no more craving for pain, there were no more perverted thoughts, but only a tired body and cold feet, and she collapsed. She woke up later, went home and cleared herself up, and carried on as if nothing had happened.