Grenade under her tongue

Monday, 3 March 2014

The problem when you are afflicted by several things at once is that you're never quite sure which is the culprit of how you're currently coping or as the case may be not coping.  The lines blur between what is normal and that which is not until you have to ask yourself are you okay?  Or more often than not, how not okay are you.

It’s not the words that 
I need to share
It’s the silences
that I wish you could hear.

The world is flat and grey.  A thick impressionable grey that begs to be reached through, smudged or drawn upon yet you can't even touch it.

The emptiness is overwhelming, it's not around you, it's within you.  Sometimes you exist stupefied within it as it spreads like some vacant barren expanse that you're never quite sure if you're on the precipice of waiting to fall into it or else simply in the midst of it, lost.  Other times it's those million shivering holes, vicious and paralysing.  Carniverous and invisible.

 & I can’t remember if I’m the holes
or the remains.

It's hard to explain why you don't do that which needs doing, the laundry has been ready to put away for days, the pots ready to put away too and they're right in front of you yet you're exhausted mentally because you got dressed today.  You brushed your hair. You may have even had a bath in the last few days. You're remembering to provide answers, of a sort, when spoken to.   You're lazy, they say so you obviously don't give a shit and to an extent they're right.  It's not that you don't care it's that you can't.  You have lost the capacity to care about everyday things.  There's no room to think about them when your thoughts are consumed by breathing in and breathing out.

You're overeating, again.  It's not even like you're hungry.  You don't need this food, hell you don't even want it.  Yet you're eating it.  It's like a compulsion.  You're not even sure why, is it some physical attempt to fill that void inside?  Is it just another form of self destruction, to become the hideous that you feel.

You can't control this.

You lie in bed for hours in agonising silence as you feel yourself suffocate from the inside out.  What is that noise?  That strangulated noise?  Then you realise.  It's you.  It's been so long since you cried, the sound is alien and you can't breath.

You're angry.  You're distraught. You're empty.

Your apathy is deconstructing life around you, demolishing it bit by bit.  It's no dramatic explosion it's mere crumbling through neglect.  There's a handgrenade in your mouth, you're tonguing the pin, it's all the things you can't say.  the things that would blow apart your world.

& I can’t decide the greater evil
The inability to feel
 Or the possibility of feeling
I’m terrified by the allure of
Loaded thoughts
As words poise unspoken
With the potential to blow
My world
I’m afraid to ask myself questions
In case I discover how to answer them
Everything feels wrong
I am a hand grenade
And the pin is decaying

What would happen if your life was reduced to rubble?  Sometimes you're tempted to pull the pin, just to feel something.  To destroy everything.

Some days I’m desperate for something violently radical to happen, just to check i’m still here.  Underneath all this. That somewhere somebody sees me.  Maybe in time, they’ll hear me.  
I’d introduce myself but I don’t know who I am.

Then there's a small break, a mere crack in the clouds and you're clambering to it on all fours attempting to drink the light in hungry gasps.  For this short time you're breathing. .  You're feeling in colours and thinking in shapes.  Everything is so vivid and bright as you stare at the most inconsequential things in exquisite awe.  There's a fluidity in your movements, an unstoppable stream of words that need to be spoken.  It's like the world's in some subtle dance against your body willing it to move as you see revelations in the clouds.  The energy is electric, you need to go here, go there, do this, so that and you're laughing.....the sensation of laughter is ripping apart your veins in it's insanity.  It feels good. You're laughing in air to empty hungry lungs.  It's like the kiss of sunlight on dead flesh, you just want to feel this for a bit longer, just a little while just a ...

It's gone again.

I'm gone again.

Trying to breath out without
breathing in
the grey turns to black
if you swallow
it swallows right back.


  1. Thanks for sharing this really honest post about how crippling depression can be. #sharefrida

  2. Beautifully written, I've struggled in so many ways over the years and wish I could write and explain it as eloquently as you do xx

  3. Such an honest post. Thanks for sharing it

  4. What an amazingly powerful post x

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