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BlueRoses's picture

17:01

on June 21, 2019 - 5:09pm

Another relapse and my hands are cold. My body can't keep up with my brain and when I type my fingers are out of sync.
They ache, i hit the wrong keys. Its so slow its painful. I'm so slow its painful.

I don't know how it happened this time. One moment i was happy, crying happy tears with my reflection because I felt like i was finally looking at myself. Like i could finally see something real.

And then I wasn't.
And now I'm not.

BlueRoses's picture

14:30

on June 14, 2019 - 2:41pm

We're stranded in Merced and the dull ache in my chest hurts like theres a crack their, splitting a little deeper. I'm beginning to wonder what will come seeping out when I break.

C is sitting two seats down, he feels too far away. Like a distance is set between us because he can't understand my melancholy. Every now and then i get the fear again. Like someday I'll wake up and all the love will have drained from me, I'll be too tired, too hollow and when I look at him he won't look the same and I won't recognise him, and when that happens I won't recognise myself and I won't like myself.

BlueRoses's picture

00:11

on January 7, 2019 - 4:20pm

I missed 11:11, tragic.
C says its his favourite time of day because it makes him think of me.
Usually I make 11:11 wishes for the patients I work with, stupid things like hoping they get a good nights sleep or they have a happy delusion, not a sad one. Sometimes I just wish they'd get some peace.
When I was a teenager I just used to wish I could be thin, or that boys would like me, or that I could be pretty, and I used to set an alarm so I'd never miss 11:11. It was like this weird routine I just couldn't falter on. You know, just in case something happened.

I wish on everything, dandy lion

BlueRoses's picture

12:34

on January 6, 2019 - 4:47am

I like it here, it's quiet.
I like being able to write away my train of thought knowing that someone will see it, but not too many someones. A handful of someone's might read this. Might.

I like being able to say I'm struggling again without the fear that anyone I know is going to hear me. It makes it that little bit easier you know, to start thinking about it again.
I don't think I'm ready to start thinking about it again, not just yet. Maybe in a week or two, maybe in February. At the moment I think I'd just like to say it here, in the quiet, where my voice can just linger a little while.

BlueRoses's picture

21:46

on January 4, 2019 - 1:51pm

Heaven // Talking Heads

In the luggage rack of a packed out tube train carriage we opposed each other. Losing ourselves to lethargy and the long journey home, our smirks were the sleepy kind. Our attempts at entertainment halfhearted, childish. You caught my foot with your foot, tried to knock me off balance. I pulled faces, mouthed insults in slow motion, picked at the rubber lining of someone elses suitcase and flicked it at you, trying to hold your attention.
If only I'd realised I didn't need to try.

We were waiting an hour before we got a seat but when we did I chose the song we shared,

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Friday June 21, 2019 
| Posted by: BlueRoses

Another relapse and my hands are cold. My body can't keep up with my brain and when I type my fingers are out of sync.
They ache, i hit the wrong keys. Its so slow its painful. I'm so slow its painful.

I don't know how it happened this time. One moment i was happy, crying happy tears with my reflection because I felt like i was finally looking at myself. Like i could finally see something real.

And then I wasn't.
And now I'm not.

Friday June 14, 2019 
| Posted by: BlueRoses

We're stranded in Merced and the dull ache in my chest hurts like theres a crack their, splitting a little deeper. I'm beginning to wonder what will come seeping out when I break.

C is sitting two seats down, he feels too far away. Like a distance is set between us because he can't understand my melancholy. Every now and then i get the fear again. Like someday I'll wake up and all the love will have drained from me, I'll be too tired, too hollow and when I look at him he won't look the same and I won't recognise him, and when that happens I won't recognise myself and I won't like myself. Still, sometimes he doesn't resemble the C i fell in love with and I probably don't resemble the me he fell in love with and it hurts. Because the feelings haven't faded and I don't ever want them to, and I can't imagine a me with no love left in her. And yet the fear lingers and it hurts my heart. This low, strange ache, like I've missed the top step in the dark of my midnight hallway, felt as though for a second the whole world had fallen away beneath ny feet, only to feel the carpet moments later, and all that's really happened is I've shocked myself, knocked the air from my lungs. And of course the air always comes flooding back, no matter how difficult it feels to breath in.

I know its not a worry I need to harbour and I know its a needless anxiety, but every now and then it takes over and paralyses me, and all the life drains from me. Its depression I'm sure, because its not just love for him which drains, its not even love but the connection, and not just a connection with him but with everyone and the entire world. I feel like I've fallen one step out of sync, everything is happened around me and to me but I've no control over any of it and no time to respond and I can't seem to feel anything about anyone. Everyone is suddenly different, distant, and I'm this shell, I'm this hollow, theres nothing where my heart should be, and nothing where my lungs should be, and when I want to move my legs and walk around they feel like they belong to someone else.

Monday January 07, 2019 
| Posted by: BlueRoses

I missed 11:11, tragic.
C says its his favourite time of day because it makes him think of me.
Usually I make 11:11 wishes for the patients I work with, stupid things like hoping they get a good nights sleep or they have a happy delusion, not a sad one. Sometimes I just wish they'd get some peace.
When I was a teenager I just used to wish I could be thin, or that boys would like me, or that I could be pretty, and I used to set an alarm so I'd never miss 11:11. It was like this weird routine I just couldn't falter on. You know, just in case something happened.

I wish on everything, dandy lion clocks, stars, birthday candles. Literally anything you can make a wish on, I'll make a wish.

I'm not even that superstitious. I just have this childish desire for kismet or some higher power to just provide for me, just once. Its like my version of a god I suppose. I don't pray for things to get better, I just sorta wish for them to.

Anyway, when I was a teenager and I wished to be skinny I already was, and when I wanted to be pretty, I already was, and when I wanted boys to like me they already did, I just lacked the self confidence to realise it. So what I really should have been wishing for was that, a little self esteem.
And last night I caught myself wishing for that again, to be skinny, so maybe tomorrow morning, come 11:11 I'll eat a bowl of fucking cereal and just wish for a less dysmorphic set of eyes.

Idefk anymore.

Sunday January 06, 2019 
| Posted by: BlueRoses

I like it here, it's quiet.
I like being able to write away my train of thought knowing that someone will see it, but not too many someones. A handful of someone's might read this. Might.

I like being able to say I'm struggling again without the fear that anyone I know is going to hear me. It makes it that little bit easier you know, to start thinking about it again.
I don't think I'm ready to start thinking about it again, not just yet. Maybe in a week or two, maybe in February. At the moment I think I'd just like to say it here, in the quiet, where my voice can just linger a little while. I can sigh and I won't be disturbing anyone.

I'm on my lunch break at work, theres a lad and his girlfriend sitting opposite eachother on the table across from me. Theyre talking quietly but mostly I can only hear the aircon. Its louder than usual, its not really helping.

I work quite closely with the lad opposite me, and this week at work I've heard the words which have slipped from his mouth slip from the tongues of some of the others too. And as much as it thrills me to hear them say it, "she never eats here," I don't really want anyone to find out. Its a strange half way desire. I want them to notice, I want them to say things like that, I want them to think about it, be drawn in. But I don't want them to work me out.
I want them to shrug it off.

And lets face it, its not the kind of thing people just shrug off. Its not a halfway thing to do, so you don't get a halfway response.

So today I ate. I ate a piece of homemade gingerbread my dad wrapped up for me three mornings ago. And I ate it slowly despite not feeling hungry, and I made sure he saw me eating it.
And now I feel like I've lost control. I feel like I've thrown everything away, that I've ruined everything. I wasn't supposed to eat until dinner.

Now I won't feel dizzy, I won't feel light, I won't get an adrenaline rush and thats panicking me. SO MUCH.
My heads racing, overtaking my heart.
Now that I've eaten I'm craving all sorts. I want everything I see. Even food I don't like smells divine.

And its terrifying because I only slipped back into the routine for a week but I'm already this lost to it.

Still, I suppose I've said it now. That means something.

Friday January 04, 2019 
| Posted by: BlueRoses

Heaven // Talking Heads

In the luggage rack of a packed out tube train carriage we opposed each other. Losing ourselves to lethargy and the long journey home, our smirks were the sleepy kind. Our attempts at entertainment halfhearted, childish. You caught my foot with your foot, tried to knock me off balance. I pulled faces, mouthed insults in slow motion, picked at the rubber lining of someone elses suitcase and flicked it at you, trying to hold your attention.
If only I'd realised I didn't need to try.

We were waiting an hour before we got a seat but when we did I chose the song we shared, and I chose this.

And so now that its late at night and I'm alone again, and the only part of all day we have shared together was a text at 2:15 talking about work, I'm struggling to get it unstuck from my head.

https://soundcloud.com/megridgway/heaven

x

Sunday August 19, 2018 
| Posted by: BlueRoses

I love someone dearly and it hurts a little bit more every day.

When we met it was love at the center of a heatwave, dust on your dressing table, dust in your freshly folded clothes. It used to catch in the creases by his eyes when he laughed.
We used to wander home drunk at night, stumble down northern cobblestone paths, through Liverpool, Manchester, Nottingham. We used to stumble home down by Camden Loch and he would laugh because I didn't know left from right.
We used to stay up too late, our eyes would sting and the sun would rise slowly before either of us could fall asleep. I used to stay up late for him, he used to stay up late for me.

We spent hours wishing for rain, hiding from the sunlight under the shade of a tree or scaffolding on the high street. I used to sigh and talk about soup and jeans and jumpers. And not feeling so suffocated all of the time.
We spent hours wishing for rain and then it came.
June became July and as July sunk, simmering into August and the storms settled down, he stayed in London and I moved back down south.

And now when I don't see him it hurts. Because I always tried not to become reliant on someone, and I always tried not to find happiness in other people, but to love him is to accept that without him home doesnt feel like home, and without him the days feel wasted and I feel wasted like im wasting away.

And it seems so ironic that I wasted so much time with other people, doing other things, that by the time I was ready to meet him, I was forced to leave him behind.