Just try to live, for you, for me, for us all…
There’s a place.
There’s a place I long for.
Somewhere with a chaotic sequence.
A place filled with strong, mighty water.
When the flashbacks and painful memories come seeping through, always without a warning, always catching you unawares, at the most inappropriate times, sometimes, I long to be at the bottom of the ocean.
I don’t want to die. No.
I just want to lay there for some minutes, or hours, or even days, or just,
if time could freeze and let me stay as long as I want to.
It’s my safe space.
Sometimes I long to lay beneath a waterfall
I don’t want to die. No.
I just want to feel that water blast on me, with such energy and speed,
I imagine myself being there, taking it all in and being still, allowing the roaring beast hit me, but not dying. I dream about it, I think about it,
It’s my safe space.
I have a place here, a hidden beach, it’s enclosed and not many people even know it’s there.
A mere mockery of my imagination but it’s real and it’s physical.
I’ve been there.
I’ve been there with people. During the day and at night.
But when I go back to it, in my imagination, I’m the only one there and I love it.
I love that in that space and moment, only I get to feel and experience the peace it gives, that, it’s all mine.
In my imaginary world, I hear the sound of the waves, the great splash of water on sand, and just for a moment, I crave to be that sand.
I crave to be washed by that mighty wave.
I crave to be blasted by that large amount of water.
But I don’t want to be taken back to sea with it.
I want to just be stuck there on the seashore.
Lying there, immovable.
And I wish time could freeze for me to stay as long as I want to.
Sometimes I wish I could fly.
I envy the birds.
Each time they fly past,
I crave to be them.
I wish I could fly,
I would fly so high and just lay on the clouds.
And I want time to be still at that moment,
So I could lay there as much as I want.
When I feel traces of it coming — the sadness, the depressive feelings, the tears you can’t control and you can’t explain, my body tries to tell me, it’s a whisper, but I ignore it.
I begin to panic because, I know it’s there, I know it’s coming. I occasionally move my head upwards to try to hold the tears and carry on with my day wearing a smile.
Ain’t nobody gon see you cry…
No one should.
No one could.
No one would.
They can’t understand. The constant zoning out, the highs and the lows, and the allure to remain there. They don’t live through or with it.
The scariest and saddest part is the realization that you may never get rid of it, that feeling, that emptiness you feel, and that scares you even more.
I crave for a hug that I don’t have to ask for, but I don’t want it, I’m not a hugger.
I crave for companionship, but I don’t want it, I get bored easily.
I crave for intimacy, but what does that even mean?
I know what it is,
I know what it is I suffer,
I know my disease, yet I can’t do any bloody thing about it.
I don’t know if it’s the powerlessness or the guilt or the helplessness or shame,
I just know that there’s an emptiness within.
And as much as I really try to fill that void with reckless actions and stupid decisions or whatever,
The truth is as plain as it is simple, I need help,
We all just need help.
You only have to be brave and strong enough to ask for it.
I know you do want to forget it ever happened, but it will only keep screaming louder, at such high tones, to get your attention until you finally acknowledge it.
Get help, speak up, and call a damn therapist.
I’m sorry, I wasn’t screaming.
Please see a therapist…for your sake, and mine.
