Something has been lost

'Fear is a destructive emotion that can hinder your ability to heal, so the more you can reduce your fear and increase your confidence, the better.'

I've heard recently 'too much for young shoulders'. Which, sounds alien when I feel my shoulders feel about 80. You can tell when muscles weak. This year has been all about heartbreak.

I sit in my bed cold sun blaring in, I know this week I need to create my own rehab. With pastry crumbs scattered across the sheets, a pathetic representation some could say only pathetic fallacy, with the emotion in crumbs. They are in bits, just like me.

I stare to the walls, my hands, my face, looking for answers when really they are too obvious to be looking for. Is it reassurance? Is it a belonging? More so, I think it is acceptance. My mum has died. I have lost my rock.

I'm rubbish at pouring drinks, lemonade, beer, wine-they all seems to over flow or spill a little. I can't quite seem to round the top off, there never is a perfect head. 2011 has been volcanic. I've been dormant for some time about it yet only now the lava begins to spill. My glass has overflowed and nothing can keep it inside. Rehab begins with pace.

'Take care', 'look after yourself', 'don't take life too seriously'. Can someone click their fingers and do this please? I know that is no option, and if anything I have learned in my 22 years is that we all need pace to learn from. I wouldn't be who I am this second If I had clicked my fingers and all be gone. That would make me a shell, hollow.

There is an overwhelming state. Finally though, I am by self and fear seems to be less obvious lately. I think I have become a constant stream, my heart begs for the waterfalls in Wales and to go back to that day where returning home would greet me with mum. Her curly hair, blue dressing gown around her and dog by her side. I remember her movements, her sounds, he voice. It feels like a sting to the eyes thinking about it, but at least now I am in a safe place to think about it, the finger in the canal wall has come out. It has all splurged.

We can keep thinking about the practicalities of things, who could blame us-it seems to make our existence, exist. Though, in this pace I know full well my practical side has got the better of me. I cannot fight any longer, i'm drawn out and a scribble. I'm ready to get it all out now, the pain, to feel exhausted, drained. I want to scream and kick and kill and punch and throw and run until something knocks me flat on the floor. But. Heartbreak gets in the way. I feel too worthless to even speak sometimes. I'm stunted by this pain. My rock has gone. My beautiful mum and others.

I can only seek solace in myself now. I mean, who else will do it for me? If someone could turn some light bulb on so I would cry, please let it drain me. I have to think the saddest thoughts for it to come out, fear stunts me. I feel invisible and lifeless though I know I have all the colour to show them all. I want it to come back. I need it. Self can't be trapped for much longer.