I am

I am, I exist, I wake up every day
I’m lost in the mist of my own lonely way
I’ve tried many times
Reached as far as I could
Drawn north and then south
Between bad and then good

I had to pretend it would all be ok
To live in a world where I am just a stray
I’ve cried many times
I am broken inside
Born lonely my heart
In the darkness I hide

After an upsetting yesterday, which I won’t go into, today was so good. My mum was too unwell to celebrate mothers day until now, so finally we got out for a meal. It was a beautiful day and we were all enjoying it..

Out of the blue my brother said he had a ticket to go and see the ladyboys of bankok. I came up with every excuse, but they persuaded me to go. It was amazing and I had the best night I’d had in years. It was the first time I had danced and felt free in years. It a amazing

There must be more than this..

Life has an unlikely way of feeling both underwhelming and overwhelming at the same time. Small tasks and decisions are too much for me, and yet I yearn to be alive. To live.

I want to be alone, and yet the pain of loneliness kills me on a daily basis. Every song, film or television programme.. Every Facebook post, even just sitting in the garden hearing the neighbours together socialising, enjoying barbecues of a warm evening. I’m always on the outside looking on. That is how my entire life has felt.

I’m in this rut, this self created prison. My entire existence is governed by fear, longing and self loathing. I crave to be loved, but I cannot see myself as lovable. I can’t imagine trusting someone enough to allow them an important part of my life, the mere thought of that makes me feel my vulnerability and causes me to retreat.

Even friendship is alien to me. Sure I’ve had friends over the years, but they have only been people I see here and there rather than close friends who would notice if you are unhappy. The ones I ever did get close to abandoned me eventually, and the pain is not something I want to ever risk repeating.

The only two people I’ve ever known would always be there and who truly cared are my mum and dad. Now Dad has cancer and Mum is not in good health and waiting for a hernia operation. I’m scared. No, terrified.

I don’t remember the last warm physical contact I had. My entire being craves to be held in someone’s sheltering arms. I wish someone could break down the walls I have around me and show me that life can be good. Because there must be more than this.

Negative thoughts and me

I go to bed every night thinking I’ve wasted another precious day. I wake up every morning thinking not another fucking day. That’s my routine. I wake up feeling crap, my eyes hurt, my head hurts and I never want to leave my bed. The things I used to enjoy no longer grab me. Nothing does. I don’t know if there’s any fight left in me. The tasks I would have to undertake to ever live a normal life seem insurmountable to me. Overwhelming. To achieve any of them, I would surely need the will to live. But I seem to have mislaid that shit.

I feel sad a lot. I hate myself a lot. And as always that loneliness doesn’t let up. Yet recently I’ve been avoiding any human contact.. I see I’m not helping myself.. But everything just feels so pointless. I haven’t left the house in ages.

On the most part, Dad is doing well. I’ve been avoiding thinking about his illness as much as I can. I’ve been avoiding everything as much as I can.

I hate that I keep hearing Dad on the phone telling people it is terminal. I don’t want to go there, it’s more than I can bear. When the dreadful time comes.. Unless some miracle happens in the near future.. I think I will have to check out too. God knows.

It might be OK if perhaps one thing had worked out in my pathetic life. Career? Friends who truly care? And oh love, the pièce de résistance. The thing I craved my entire life. Love. Not to mention children, who to me could only be a by-product of aforementioned love.

I believe I had a lot of love to give. I believe I might have been a good mother. I believe my life had so much promise once, all of which I wasted.

I long to wake up one day with a spring in my step and a renewed sense of hope. A new zest for living.

One can but dream..