Unloved

It hurts when they ask do you want us to call your parents or do your parents know that you are here. I doubt they would even care. They always say to me snap out of it, pull yourself together be strong. Whilst the doctors are all struggling to determine what is wrong with me, because it is such “a complex array of mental health issues”. Everyone else is concerned. Everyone else can see that I am falling apart. Why do you not take me seriously?

I watch all the other people with their parents, spouses, friends and I wonder where I went wrong. I tried to be kind to people. I wanted to be loved. I wanted people to look out for me. I learnt that I look out for myself. I suppose that it why they say it is emotional instability. Maybe that is why I do not want to be me. I tried, but failed. Now I will try harder. Begin again.

The emotions come back and I always try to dial, send the occasional text. I do not want to cause anyone any pain. It is unbearable. I know that. No one will lose me. I will still be here. My words are every part of me, anyone would want to keep. The mood swings and the glares, I would not even be friends with that. I am constantly reminded about the words. I will always keep the words. They are vulnerably honest. How can you not read it? Believe it. That is the real problem. No one ever believes me. I feel small, silent, unnoticed. Why should what I say matter?

It does. It always does. Opinions. Conversations. Thoughts. That is my definition of expression. That right there is beauty.

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I Miss You

I find myself wishing you were here

Or I was there more often now.

We would have such a deep chat

For hours, because I feel like

You get me. I miss you without

Understanding how or why

And often I feel an emptiness.

I think maybe you would relate

To this feeling, maybe you would

Want to talk for hours with me too.

I honestly do not know but I wanted

To tell you that I miss you.

For Mother:

You called about the dent in my car.

Never mind the one in my brain.

Never mind that I have switched off.

Never mind that I was not calling to

Tell you what had happened.

I was really calling to tell you that

I miss you. That is why the small talk.

I want to listen to the sound of your

Voice, no matter what you are saying.

I called because I need you.

I called because I am hurting.

I called because the only way I know

To be close to you and hear your voice

Is by talking about what happened.

I cannot explain what is going on inside.

You will never understand, so I tell you

About the day to day happenings.

You tell me yours and I listen

Wishing the words you were saying

Were different. Wishing for more.

I wish I could crawl scared into your

Arms and you would hold me.

You would put me back together,

But instead, I tell you about

The dent put in my car yesterday.

How does it feel?

I have this really special friend. She always asks the question ‘how does it feel?’ when I am telling her something. Whether it be a story or a statement or a rambling of information, she always asks how do you feel about it. I did not know how important this was. I did not realise that the whole world could stop for a second. The story and the actions all freeze as I stop to think about the meaning. As I try to discover how it is that I feel. I pause to reflect. Sometimes I am ok, sometimes I am mad or sad. Every time, she focuses in on my feelings even though she knows the people and places of the story. It becomes less gossip and more therapy. Every friendship should be like that. Caring about the other person’s feelings rather than the in between day  to day actions. After all, we remember how we felt above all else. I remember the first time I felt love, sadness, disaster, joy all so clearly. It is so important. Even when it feels like you cannot put words to the feeling because it is too deep or powerful, you feel like you cannot do it justice. It is so important to try, to reflect. I think that everyone should be more aware of how people are feeling. That is why I am so expressive with my emotions. That is why I say exactly how I feel to people. If I am scared or hurt or happy or grateful, you should know about it. We are not mind readers and I appreciate that. I do not get angry if someone does not understand. I explain. I connect with people. Then you find that you can talk to absolutely anyone and life becomes even more enjoyable.

Sister

I am sorry we do not talk

And connect as I would like.

You know me well

And that scares me.

We lived together many years

And I saw in you someone

Who is so different

After experiencing the same.

When I want to talk to you,

I never do and sometimes

You make me so angry.

It is only because

I am missing you.

I want a bond and a love

That I am unsure we

Could ever achieve,

But I would like to try

If you would.

Intimacy

The way intimacy works in my head is so bizarre. You can have my head or my body. I will never give you both. I wish I could, but if I open up and show you my soul, I am far too vulnerable to give you anything else. I usually fall for someone, in the heat of passion and then afterwards I will push them away. I will not speak to them. I am stunted. It all just becomes too hard. I do not want them to know me and then never want me again. So I will not talk.

No one has held me in so long that I am starting to forget what it feels like. I do not know what I crave. I think that maybe it will break me and hurt a lot, especially if it is the right person. It is not the touch I crave, but the way that someone could actually care about me and love me. That is all I need. When I think about the times that I have been with friends, I have often been comfortable. Not at all scared. Protected.

People do not know what to expect from me. I am not your typical case. I am not the expectation you built up in your head. I cannot sleep with you all that easily. Most of the time, I will not want to. I want, more than anything, to be heard. I want to be seen, known and appreciated for me. If I know that you are not the one, then unfortunately I become selective with what I can give you.I cannot give my all. Maybe it is unfair. Often, I have no explanations. It is on me, not you.

I am sorry that this is what the damage did to me. I am working on it. It is not fair on me either. I do not want anyone too close. I cannot be touched. I am so fearful. Perhaps I do not even need to apologise, but it is harder than you think. I often do not know what else to say. I am sorry that I just cannot and have no explanations for you. I will however be grateful if you stick by me through the mayhem whilst I am figuring it out. I am not a user. I will give back. It just takes time.