You might be wondering why this dark topic is now in front of your eyes, well, first of all this is a part in my life that I no longer choose to hide. But I wrote about this before, thought about leaving it there, but it came back to my mind so now I've touched this part of my life once again.
Last night (around 3 am ) I wrote a poem about those darkest days, there is no hopeful ending, because that darkness was my state.
This poem is the battle for life you go through when stuck. Emotionally and fearfully to a situation you feel that you cant get away from.
Self-harm isn't a sign of weakness, of giving up on life.. it's the exact opposite, It's a sign of strength, this is not to glorify the terrifying act, but to open an understanding towards this battle for life, It was the only thing that still helped me feel that I was here, the pain ensured me that I wouldn't disappear.
Fire= Self-harm
Smoke= Tears, sadness, dizziness, shaking, being distant
So, what do people feel that they can not leave? For this there are many answers, mine would be love. A life that was a pre-made plan. A life I had put all my love in and fought for. Also fear of the unknown- myself in a world outside this; who would love this wreck ? This was it, my equation for life, you just have to do whatever you can to make it seem alright. It's like being trapped in your own destiny, and I know how strange that sounds (I mean you decide of the turns in your life dont you?.. but in this mind-state.. that is not the case..) It is like you are slowly being assigned not to breathe, you want to scream, but for love.. you take on the message, piece by piece.
There are those who might look at this wreckles panic and possible marks as a sign of weakness.
There is a constant fear of judgement, that no one would understand.
But not all people are bad.
They will not think you are mad.
If they see the fire they will run towards you,
not away.
If they see the smoke, they will stop to ask if you're okey.
So, dear bystander,
step in, be brave.
Last night (around 3 am ) I wrote a poem about those darkest days, there is no hopeful ending, because that darkness was my state.
This poem is the battle for life you go through when stuck. Emotionally and fearfully to a situation you feel that you cant get away from.
Self-harm isn't a sign of weakness, of giving up on life.. it's the exact opposite, It's a sign of strength, this is not to glorify the terrifying act, but to open an understanding towards this battle for life, It was the only thing that still helped me feel that I was here, the pain ensured me that I wouldn't disappear.
Fire= Self-harm
Smoke= Tears, sadness, dizziness, shaking, being distant
I'm Still Breathing
I know this is my life now, and I guess you can´t see,
that even though I'm in it, I am losing me.
I barely hear my voice,
it's nothing but a distant sound,
echoes of who I used to be.
I wish that I could still see me,
before I disappear,
feel my own presence,
Even though I know you think you see me clear.
But let me tell you,
I am not here.
I try to grasp with every fiber, hit these silent walls.
But I am moving nowhere,
I will have to take more force.
I can barely breathe now,
but I'm still gasping for air,
this life of mine without me,
it's getting more and more severe.
I am at the bottom, throwing rocks,
causing fires that I would then have to stop.
The question is do you see the smoke?
If you did I'm sorry,
I did not mean to bring this to your attention.
It is my battle,
but maybe you should know,
that my life is in danger.
I'm sorry.
This is too much information...
and what if you saw my fires, my panicked eyes and inner reflection.
Would you choose to look away, or tell me,
that I simply want attention.
I wish you would see me,
but not like this.
My roar can be quite freighting,
something you're better off to miss.
But I have to continue,
before I go numb,
I will not fall into silence,
this will not be what I have become.
For as long as I am breathing, I will run.
These silent walls are coming closer,
This is not what I will become.
But my voice is tired,
my legs are sore,
But I will keep on fighting,
and fighting again once more.
I guess I'm the one whos crazy,
and even `Our Love`could concur all.
I just wish that I didn't have to fall.
But the question;`are you okey ?`
could change it all.
If you are out there; Could you please make that call ?
There are those who might look at this wreckles panic and possible marks as a sign of weakness.
There is a constant fear of judgement, that no one would understand.
But not all people are bad.
They will not think you are mad.
If they see the fire they will run towards you,
not away.
If they see the smoke, they will stop to ask if you're okey.
So, dear bystander,
step in, be brave.
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