Headstands in the hallway

A sip of coffee to kick start it all, like a new deep breath.

I get chest pains, a lot. It's because I forget to breathe. Last night I slept the best I have in about four weeks. A deep dream-esque fulfillment of visions too quirky to say out loud-I could write about them, though I'm sure certain names could not be mentioned for those that appeared in it. Twisted.

It feels like there is hot acid over my heart, like my lungs have collapsed and pipes have become way too thin. My body this week has felt weak and I don't like it hate it. Strains I cause myself from toss turning sleep patterns, and functions my body has got worse at. It's all because of stress.

Everyday becomes about food and what I must consume to function. What I must eat to feel normal, have energy, look the right size so the next day I don't inflate two sizes bigger and look pregnant, feel pregnant. To feel uglier. Avoid the comfort eating to fill the void. To at least, stay sane.

A week filled of relationship mess. I hear of friends, who drink every night just to continue and we all laugh. It's not a laughing matter really, especially when I saw mum drink a bottle every night and hide it down the side of the sofa, just in case the doorbell rang. 'I was so embarrassed' she once said to me. She knew it wasn't right too, and to have her beg me to go to the shop when she was too ill to drive-it was the last straw for daughter.

I saw the one that broke me. You could say I broke him too. Our constant drives at each other, striving for perfection in one another-though really we knew it never existed between us. Perfection never exists when there are two people, three, in love. And then to have that other life rubbed in my face again, to attempt to shut me up and reduce the challenge. Go Fuck Yourself. That was low. I wish I yelled louder at the time. It still makes me feel sick, that three way threat and anxious disappearings. A relationship far too unhealthy, every second spent wondering when it was going to end, that was the certainty over anything. He went. Gone. How could anyone understand if even I don't, when it's happening to me?

If in a relationship, you know you're not happy if your mind wonders to someone else. Fact. Fucking around, a filtering process. An excuse to avoid commitment because commitment is too scary, once you put some much importance and emotion into one person. Of course it screws you over. We all just need more courage. More balls. Attitude.

I've never been that kind of girl to believe in people being 'the one'. Until last year. It sounds ridiculous I know, considering I don't believe that there is one person and one person out there for us only. But what I do believe is, when there is someone that just makes sense, over everything. It's human nature, we seek people out, companionship, adventure. I still battle with this 'alone' self and ignorable passion to explore other people, learn from conversations and socialise to the extent. There's always a moment when you just have to sit down, sit back in a room by yourself, to catch up with you. Down time. I have to have it everyday just to try and block out everything else. Traveling-bus journeys are very important to me. Moments in the morning, getting ready, sitting in bed reading blogs, writing and catching up on tv shows. If anyone were to take that from me, they'd be gone.

I imagine a room filled, people amongst us in a sea of swayed sweat, thumping music and chemicals raised high flowing through blood. I know I have a rage, burried like my skin is a sand pit and I've lost my tools. I can't quite construct, so I'll remain on the surface, still and steady. Deep down it's all boiling, and the moment described above in a wish scenario would be met with a sudden charge, tackle to the floor and smack to the face. 'How dare you, HOW DARE YOU!'. I remember hearing those swirled words over voicemail, fear my door to be knocked down over rage of rejection. It's fucking ugly, between us. The turmoil, I still haven't quite ran from and let go. Seeing you doesn't just affect me for a day, but a week. It's my choice, and I'm on the defense path, trying to at least get my grip this time-and someone new involved is suffering, extensively.

I've spent many moments this week on my own. Whether it ranges from 1 hour on the bus 'alone', or at home laid in bed, keeping warm and awake in my wider white room. I'm not used to this kind of space, I really like it. I think the anger is going to fuel many more wonderful things, it's like an energy after all which says 'fuck you, i'm getting on with things' kind of attitude, applicable to many past events.

I've worked out the kind of affection I receive from elsewhere, makes me cringe, because after all, what I'm provided with isn't wrong, what's wrong is how I can't seem to accept it. I feel like I don't deserve it. The one person who doesn't give that kind of affection, that kind of care it represents for someone, is the self. I beat myself up way too much. Food, drink, shouldn't do this because of that... I know why I get grouchy when things are quiet through the week-I'm only hiding from what I can't face-the constant struggle of second guessing whether things are 'just right', just 'perfect'. It's that kind of disease I have when, If things aren't just right, you want to flip. How dare I endure anything else which isn't quite right. A high intensive impatience to the world. To myself. To friends. Frustration seeing friends making the wrong decisions. Family making the wrong decisions. I have no control over it. It's something I need to accept and learn, matters out of my hands aren't necessary going to affect my overall happiness. I suppose it's something you develop when there's you, and your shell of a world crashes one after another in front of you in one year. It's fucking pitiful and I want to spit it out.

Everyday is a battle, it seems I'm through the worst based on test results and how most days differ to three months ago. It's hard to cope when other peoples lives around you, aren't quite just. But that is life, isn't it. The most important thing is to get the grip on keeping on going. I still think, If I knew I were to die tomorrow it would all mean NOTHING. It's why I follow Alice's blog so intensively. The wake up call we all need when we whinge on about all sorts of bullshit. I regularly read back texts from mum, she was so angry over my misery, I'd just been diagnosed with severe depression and the one person I needed to understand it, couldn't, because she was dying. It makes sense now, why. So why hang on to all this? Why still the need to process? It's quite clear a lot still hasn't been processed, though I quite tired by the back and forth of appointments, and the one person I should talk to about mum-well, it's kind of changed lately and again it doesn't feel safe to talk to that person.

I don't admit this often, if ever.

I'm very hurt. Still. And it's so hard. I still don't think you have quite learned from your impact on me and I still haven't sensed properly from you, that there's been any suffering quite like mine. 'why do you always want to be right'. I don't even know what I'm looking for, but when someone always seems to just get on with things and appear the 'indestructible', it makes you quite in-human and I wish you wouldn't always hide. Because truthfully, that's always been the uglier side of you. I think you know there's more work to do. It's almost like you've been lying to me the whole time, to keep me keen. To prevent further damage. Just admit what you want. Who is better. What they have over me.


It's all a riddle. I'm a silly deer in the headlights.