Well there it is. And it seems like today is the day to give you the thing I wrote, that I didn’t think it was appropriate to show you over Christmas. Today, has been an absolute turd of a day. Yesterday, I was listening to my neighbours scream at each other and then a thud. He’s punched a wall. Call the police now, or wait… Always the same… Should I go knock on the door, at least he knows people care then. What if I ask her next time I see her, what do you want me to do?

This is not my life. The violence (or more properly the constant threat of violence and the gripping) has ended. The tirades, the shouting, the endless put downs, the following, the low level menace, the neglect, the looks of disgust, the fucking with my shit… gone. All gone. I have calm. Apart from the poverty and sleep deprivation life is pretty good.

Was a penny short on the bus, but some one gave me it and the man said it was ok. Got some money for Christmas, bought some shoes, took them back… I can not afford £50 on shoes! What was I thinking? Found some in the same shop, walking shoes, £30 reduced to £10 with a further 20% discount… £8 for shoes!!! Now my feet will be warm and dry. Needed a birth certificate for a CRB check so I can prove I am not a criminal and do my work that I got funding for. The man gives me a little leeway… It  takes two hours there is only 1 hour 45 left…

Making my way across town I realise that I have had 2 shredded wheats and a cuppa, should eat, tea at friends, no, I’ll wait. Tired. Writing polemic emails at 5 in the morning. Fucking government. Bastard Banks Dog damn gender fascists <<< long story. I realise that I have a vibrating ball of anger turning my bile into poison. Why do people have to have music and tvs on through the night.

When I lived on a main road, not even juggernauts would wake me, and now? The drop of a pin is cause for concern. I can not settle. I do not feel safe. My sanctuary is now my prison. I want to sleep. Years ago, I wanted to sleep the long sleep. A few things kept me going, sometimes knowing I’d have to go round again if I topped myself. Sometimes my brother. Sometimes something fortuitous like my dad cleaning out the medicine cabinet.

I looked in the cabinet, it was full of really old tablets, antibiotics, painkillers, iron tablets, some years out of date. Yeah, I thought there is enough there. The next day, it just hit me, this it. I was crying but not sobbing. I felt nothing but a compulsion to annihilate myself. I looked in the cabinet, he had cleaned it out. 6 paracetomol, enough to hurt my liver nothing more. I couldn’t even kill myself properly.

What do you fill the void with? When you make a motivation never to entertain that thought ever again, it feels as if you have lost an option. It is twisted. Grim. When there is nothing to fill the hole, you just have to carry it round with you and you think everyone can see through you. Everyone who looks at you is thinking “This girl is toxic”.

I worked so hard to fill that hole, to become whole. Every now and then I am frightened that I have just plugged it and that it will fall out like a knot in wood and I will be seen for what I truly am. Lacking. Not quite all there. Hollow. Tired, mean, angry, defeated. I have to call on all my strength to remind myself, that is not my life anymore. This is a memory of darker times. You don’t want to kill yourself, you want to kill them so you can get some friggin sleep!

Some days, I would go to bed unable to chant or pray or find solace, full of crushing debilitating self pity… when will this end. When will sun rise. When will summer come. It’s not coming is it. What have I done. What did I do. Why. Eventually, I found a mantra. Something that I could really focus on. It didn’t work. At some point, I must have been pissed and written about it.

I can’t remember writing it. I really can’t. I just came across it, and I laughed and laughed. It is hilarious. I don’t know how old it is (2010 notebook though!) and I have no idea how I intended for it to be read, but it cracks me up.

“People say that it is easy to wish yourself dead.
It’s not true.
I have tried.
And I remain
stubbornly alive.
I made a mantra,
“I pray the lord my soul to take, before I wake”.
It seems he doesn’t want it.

From the first time I conceived of the idea,
to the present day,
killing myself through the power of thought alone appears
unachievable.
This is not the first time people have lied to me.
I have come
to expect it.

‘If’ being the biggest lie of all.
I hit everyone of your ‘if’ targets and I’m still fucking miserable.
You would not expect that of someone like me, but,
I was told if I was good,
good things would happen,
and I would be happy.

Well fuck you Diznee”

Indeed!

Fall back songs…
Protection – Massive Attack
Small Blue Thing – Suzanne Vega
Hyperballad – Bjork

Lyrical hugs when real ones are absent. I am tired but I am not soul tired, tomorrow is another day and friends are one the way. 2.30 am and no music today… good night.

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