I hear the silence. I try to fill it but the words went away. So instead I'll post something from, my personal journal that pretty much sums it up.
I’ve not written for a while and yet it was not intentional. What to write with when the words, they went away? These fingers twitched and this heart stuttered, yet you can’t talk in punctuation. You need the words.
I feel irrevocably broken. It’s no clean snap nor delicate fracture. It’s pieces. Mainly bits.
I can’t control this.
Yet it’s controlling me.
I’m swinging violently through moods that cycle rapidly.
There’s the incandescent rage, it’s burning my veins and giving my breaths teeth. My eyes are looking through lens’ made with malice and my thoughts are dripping with vitriol; thick and bitter. I find myself wanting to break things, to destroy everything with my hands and teeth. I want to make life bleed. I’m snapping at everyone, my poor babies have a monster for a mum. My tolerance levels are reaching none existent. I’m a lit fuse that can’t be extinguished. I’m on fire. I’m burning. I’ll burn you.
Until I’m falling. Like a stone. Plummeting.
It’s dark, so fucking dark. I can’t see you. I can’t see me.
There is no me.
It starts with explosive distress. The white noise is screaming. The black dog; he’s howling. I watch it shred my remains into ribbons and the ribbons, they fray.
Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop.
Everything is black and red. Why won’t this noise stop?
The somewhat inane ramblings of a semi-crunchy 30-something stay at home mum based in the NW of the UK. Mum of Thing One (10yrs), Thing Two (8yrs) and The Dude (5yrs) & Moomin (Born Aug 2014). Wife of the long suffering Husband.
In search of the meaning of life, sanity and Gin.
Breastfeeding | Co-sleeping | Babywearing | Mental Health | M.E | Left-wing