“You must go on adventures to find out where you really belong.”
—
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Just doing some light reading on mental illness and art.
There is nothing like the comforting presence of sorrow washing over each follicle. There is no better feeling than becoming utterly lost in my own darkness. These moments I cherish. I roll them in my mouth like hard candy. Contemplating the taste. Feeling the soft wet sweetness around my mouth before my jaw opens and shuts. Rapidly like a trap. And I clench down. Hard. Replacing sadness with annoyance and irritation. Claws clamoring to get out from behind my dark eyes. I purse my lips and teeth clamp down as if to imitate. A secondary thought. I pry my teeth apart. My hard sugar changing shape once again and this time it’s pain. My body attempts to stay together as my mind tries to tear it apart. A soreness enters my jaw and lulls me into relaxing sleep.
I used to be a cutter…
And by used to, I mean yesterday.
Yesterday I cut.
A relapse in therapy. In life. In my mind. It’s hard to remind yourself to stay focused. To stay in tune. To control the symptoms of a diagnosis not wanted.
I am not the diagnosis.
I am not the diagnosis.
I am a being; made of symptoms and unhealthy coping mechanisms. I am on my way to change these… but the problem with unhealthy coping mechanisms is that they work.
They work fast and they work intensely. The sharp knife is blessed as is the broken mirror. The scissors. I see all of the sharpest edges and fantasize about their tugging across my skin.
Sure. They tell you to meditate. They tell you to surf the emotion. They say it won’t actually drown you.. but my body doesn’t get it..
It lays there. Choking. Gasping for air. For life. My body may not be drowning, but it reacts like it is. The chaos hits again and again like a storm on the ocean. I can’t control it… so I try to save it.
I used to be a cutter.
But today I am clinging on to a life raft hoping it will save me.
I miss being kissed…
Like the way I miss air when I’ve dove down too far and my lungs are warning me that I might not be able to break the waters surface.
I miss the feeling of gasping…
Like when I can finally take those breaths that fill my lungs with air and my heart with warmth bringing life into every blood vessel.
But most of all
I miss the feeling of love…
Like when the water softens and instead of being a weight to push against becomes tender fingers across my skin. Rocking me to its maternal rhythm.
My life is less tumultuous without your storms to cloud my thinking
1111reasonswhyilove