Mental Illness

176.

This is how you and I will go. Making a mistake, and living the days regretting such choices. I am a useless princess, a girl only able to watch the kingdom suffer. Why must I always be weak for glittering things? Stupid fool (not even your charming smile will save you now).

Humpty Dumpty, the sinister shell of a man sitting on the high wall. I’ve brought your lost sword, so why won’t you let my people go? You’ve cracked their minds and hearts, a mental affliction to madden my soul.

Once upon a time, this land is a place free from all harm. Even now, however, we both know that all the kings’ men and horses couldn’t put you together again. You, son of the depraved, first to destroy your mind and now with brute strength, have you broken others. My hands cannot keep my people’s minds from shattering.

How dare you come, how dare you say that you are only trying to make me understand. If being a monster is what it takes, I will turn away from your eyes (though they shine a bewitching green…).

I don’t believe that you’re innocent just because you’ve got a screw loose in your head.

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173.

You have taught what it means to comfort a soul, how raw and impossible it is to embrace, but to do it anyway because of love.

Call to me in the darkness just to hear something real, keep the line alive even if you can barely breathe. Though the clouds shade the night sky it’s not as though you no longer exist.

Your sadness to me is magnetic, the way the moon has a pull on the tides of earth.

Tell me — am I unbearably cruel to lean into your pain, just to know you’re still here?

Washing arms that bleed from cuts self-inflicted, to navigate spoonfuls of food so that you would have the stomach to at least try. Come, align your fidgety fingertips with mine so that with the other we can count the number of blue cars whizzing past the street, just because it’s your favourite colour, just because it’ll keep you next to me, just so you can anchor yourself in control.

The tears streaming down cheeks say that you can feel, this by far better than the days you won’t even turn at the sound of your name. I will hold you, desperately so when your life is going off the rails, give me a rope and I promise to never let you sink into a quiet nothing. My heartbeat is a lullaby that is yours to keep, if yours is all but breaking into a hollowness that cannot be filled.

So please keep your shadow beside me. If you haven’t realised it yet, remember to stay safe — because I like being alive at the same time as you.

147.

“My father didn’t cry, but he said that seeing me on the floor like that was the most horrible thing that’s ever happened to him. Then he described how he’d made these tourniquets using some torn-up sheets from my bed and held me until the paramedics got there. He said he kept telling me how much he loved me, over and over, in case hearing it helped me stay alive.”

— Michael Thomas Ford’s Suicide Notes (p67)

125.

IMG_4859

A mental health awareness project much loved by yours truly, sufficient to include it on this paperless space.

Notice the circle, the perpetuation of repetition, madness and insanity, a downward spiral into unending ideas that would not satisfy.

In this city, its life thrives on prejudiced mentalities.

Crumple the list, a useless try at finding reason within these scattered words.

We and me, a constant battle of wills, the other invisible people in the mind are just as real.

Sea of hands clambering for control of the main body.

The crosshatched thought cloud, a small voice hoping for a heart that would love despite odds.

Yet words hurt like a knife and so, wilt from the inside.

The gun explodes against his head.

Strings desperate, give me a lead to reach the person who has gone.

It’s time to take off the rose-coloured glasses, won’t you open your eyes.

This origami crane I fold, a thousand I would to make a wish for you.

A collage made to gather voices, to speak up for mental illnesses as tangible.

119.

This place, a home it cannot be. Lie on the floor, watch cloaked figures drip toxic smiles from the ceiling. Roll a ball, have it defy the laws of gravity and ascend continually. Cracked lines continue from the windowsill. There is a lock but no key. There are spaces with no door in between. In my going I need not move my feet. Just forget to breathe.

House of cards, make one and let it crumple. Dust gathers even in a vacuum. Handsome one, they call me, ask what goes on in my head. Etched palms and peeling lips keep them all away.

Where do the others go when only one can take control?

How can someone out there know the weight of holding on to more?

Free fall into glass ceilings, let them break forever. Destruction is music to deaf ears. Bite marks on pillows, changing writing, codes abundant. Keep the enemies guessing. Black hole spiralling and stealing all that can be.

Strip down and see. Flesh charred with ink. Which world and who to be angered less, to chase fleeting shadows.

111.

You step out in my attentive suit

Pillows, pills and bills block your way

I find tear-stained sheets

Who were you at 3AM?

 

There you go in the evenfall

Lined artwork bleeding

Kitchen glass breaking

Bright eyes seeking

The sound of a throat constricting

Suspire and oxygen melting

Someone who is no longer here.

 

Many people do you meet:

The boy keeping a stash

The girl laughing too hard

The man feeding his meal to the cat

The woman sharpening the knife

In the library, the bridge under, the computer screen

Each knowing the smiles meant goodbye.

100.

He said, you’re not like other children

The disappointment of a father evident

Hiding the tears of a sobbing wife

Shunning leers from prying neighbours

 

He said, you’re not like other children

Depending on the boy’s mood

He cries profusely into pillows

He makes mad crayon sketches across the wall

 

He said, you’re not like other children

Finding symbols in things unmeant

Hearing what others cannot

Seeing all the colours in invisible light

Feeling the cracks on the floor

 

He said, you’re not like other children

Insistently speaking to a twin who is not there

Drawing friends with no eyes

Watching trapped bugs melt in spider webs when others would choose to play with dogs and cats.