Allow me not to be ‘remotely perfect‘ right now. To not be articulate with my words for I’m certain I don’t have the right words to express exactly what I’m going through. I’ve racked my mind and sort through it of ways to express what I am constantly feeling but I’ve come short of words. Ironic really cause words are always all I ever have.I can’t afford the standards I usually often put for myself whenever I write. I can’t promise I’ll complete this post or that it’ll make any sense or that it’ll mean anything at all. I’m just taking a shot at hoping that whatever I pour out will slightly ease the emptiness & hollow feeling that’s becoming of me. I wish I was numb. I truly do. I wish I wasn’t feeling or itching or urging for the things that are enveloping me right now. I feel wrong, I feel torn & more now detached from reality than ever before… cause this, this shouldn’t be my reality.I’ve read it over and over again but it gives me no comfort to read ‘it’s okay to not be okay’. I don’t want to not be okay. I don’t want to find comfort from accepting that I feel destroyed. I don’t want to feel any comfort anymore in my pain. No words known to me can measure up to what I feel. None can describe how paralyzed I feel & how immobilized my state of mind is.I’ve thought that maybe if I could rip off my hand, I’d have nothing left to hurt. That if I could finally chop it off, it’ll kill the urge to constantly look at my self inflicted scars. Or that maybe if I wrap them up, I’ll no longer have to feel the ridges everytime I graze my palm on my wrist. I’m trying, I’m battling but I can’t promise I’m winning.So to conclude whatever this post is, I’m breathing through surviving. I’m a shell of myself & a lot of the questions I have tried asking myself as to how to get out of this, I have no answers to. I hope it’s no burden to anyone who reads this. It’s heavy, like every other feeling in my life and I would hate to burden anyone else with my being. So I apologize. I apologize that I’m a 🐚 of who I hope to be.

After all this time, I cannot pin point of everything that possibly sets my heart on fire. I’m certain though that it should be something that has my heart racing & my adrenaline pumping. At least that’s what I believe I feel when I’m in that head space where I’m peacefully chaotic and excited over an overwhelming feeling. We all have that something that tips you over ;that has you feeling euphoric.

Music sets my heart on fire.. Cliche’ really but I’ve gotta be normal in some form, right?? So yeah… When you get that jam that hits your soul to the root and it just sorta drowns you in it & virtually brings you into a different mental dimension where it’s just you & the lyrics of the song & the rhythm that just makes you feel like you’re floating… We all probably have geners of music we all feel we relate to and that hits different from the rest. Could be rock, indie music, jazz, opera, hip-hop, soul, country …I for sure can drown in country music & aesthetic soul music.. the latter being where I truly feel like I’m in my truest form of nature. Technically, for those who can’t necessarily pin point what kind of music it is I’m rambling about is in lame man’s language, depressing music. Music that mellows one out and has one completely feeling chill & melancholic. Yes, it’s sad but I can’t help myself. 😅

Not to delve further into any the ‘depressive shit’ in my life ..I know I never talk about my canvas often but I love the feeling or in this case, the high I get from getting new ink. It’s euphoric for me to go through the entire process of feeling it skim through my skin and form a beautiful artistic reminder of something significant to me. But for this year, I chose to take a time off on getting anymore ink, for more or less personal reasons…as I said before, there’s not much that I can say truly sets my soul on fire but I’ve come to learn that it doesn’t have to necessarily be common or good. I’ve spoken before about my affiliation to pain and I know it hardly makes sense to anyone. I wouldn’t necessarily say it’s meant to make sense but it sorta does for me. I don’t wanna have to delve into my reasons for why pain doesn’t always have to be wrong. I’ve survived through it, I believe it’s been a part of me long enough for me to say it’s not easy to detach from. It puts me at a crossroads where it’s not easy to feel. It’s heavy, It weighs on you. Then there’s a similar though different part of me that just is drawn to it. It’s a hard concept to wrap around in one’s mind of how anyone would be drawn to it.

Looking at my past now, I understand in my own twisted way why in it’s own sense it’s appealing and such a drowning feeling. This at all isn’t meant to glorify self harm in any shape or form. That is an entirely different spectrum of pain that isn’t pretty & holds no pride at all….Do I wish I didn’t feel this drawn to it, not really. You can call a consolation that those nitty-gritty aspects of myself are what have built the character & personality I have. It may not be conventional or the norm but as the saying goes, normal sucks.

Tonight I’ll probably be sleeping late cause I’m meant to be studying right now for a paper I have tomorrow but here I am,… not exactly doing that. I’m okay with it though I’m highly anxious about flunking the said paper… Like always, I’m here without a precise reason other than I just glimpsed at a previous post I uploaded a while back and it made me nostalgic about writing. Sadly though, as I have come to realise, I’m most inspired and aesthetically artistic with my words when I’m the most broken & downright shattered… It’s ironic really. Feeling this sense of nostalgia doesn’t only mean I miss just writing… nah, it carries the demons that are my inspiration to being that aesthetic while writing. I’m just a paradox like that. I am fully aware I shouldn’t want to feel like this but.. but.. that’s just how I feel. I want to close up & shatter in the self pity and the depression. It’s just that warm blanket that I just don’t know how to let go of.This sense of nostalgia is so deep rooted in me, I jump at any chance to shut down and wallow in my own pain. It’s crazy how a part of me judges people who are far more deep in their depression, anxiety and any other mental illness. It seems ridiculous when they can’t seem to pick themselves up from their pain & turmoil when it’s probably not their fault that their pain is stuck in their minds and it’s really all they know. I’m a hypocrite to wanna feel that kind of pain when there are others who’d do anything to get out of it, even if it’s just for a day. I’m a self sabotaging hypocrite who doesn’t deserve to have better days, at least not until I truly feel ready to embrace those better days. For now, I keep breaking down the slow & steady effort being made by others to get me to a better place mentally.Self sabotage feels like its in everything I do right now… In the type of music I listen to OR search for. It has to match the mood I constantly want to feel and when I’m finally drowning in my self made pity party, I have the right tune to match. In the books I read, to the posts I view of Instagram or twitter ..there’s just gotta be something to slowly take me away from the sense of normalcy I’ve tried to be conform to. I can’t not stare at the little scars on my wrist that scream louder everyday that I did this.. that I put them there. I shouldn’t want to see anymore of them but I sadly do. I shouldn’t want to have a reason to cut but I twistedly do. What does that say about me… If that I’m not just a hypocritical fuck up of a human being. I wish I could say it is a part of me that is unconscious of my self sabotaging ways but I wouldn’t be writing this if it wasn’t in my conscious mind. Let’s just call a wreck, a wreck… Sometimes the truth is all we have and in this case, me being fucked up is a plain as it can be.I probably should be scared that I’ve gotten to be more aware of my triggers in the last couple months. It’s not at all to imply I’ll purposely put myself in the line of fire just to get burned but I might not make the effort to not get shot. I wish I could blame this ‘lack of effort’ on being tired of fighting my demons and just not having enough armor to fight but that would be a white lie if I may call it that. In such a battle, armour should be your motivation to have better days that are less heavy & scarring; armour is seeing your family not constantly worried you’ll tip over the edge and drown in your pain…I have that armour, I guess I’m just holding it long enough to not necessarily die from the darkness I’m attached to but it doesn’t save me from wanting to feel engulfed in its shadow. I just don’t know how to not want that ache & shatter that has me embracing the darkness and liking it a little bit more than I should.My inspiration for this post was by a beautiful but sad song written by Sasha Sloan…Too Sad too Cry

Is it worth it?? That’s what I’m asking myself right now cause I’m in a bubble that’s pretty different from my normal mental darkness . I’m even scared to say the H word cause I may jinx whatever it is that’s happening right now. For those who may not be following up, the H word is happiness in this case. Not too long ago I wrote about how hard it is for me to understand the concept that is happiness and when exactly one can fully say they are happy with everything that’s going on for them. I’m yet to get there….still have a lot of demons who are allergic to anything remotely good for me, therefore tend to bring out my not so favourite friend who goes by the name Anxiety.

Not to dwell too much so not to fuck it up, I’m at a better place than I usually tend to be. Something has changed that I won’t go into but it’s a significant change that’s been happening for me. I’m so worried that I’m being gullible and naive over it and letting my very betrayable feelings guide me in this case. I don’t sit well with change, of whichever kind. Bad change just sort makes things more aggravated for me. Good change is what I fear most. It tends to have your expectations higher and your judgement easily swayed. It never lasts long ; always just a matter of time before the real darkness makes itself known in whatever good change was happening. So change for me simply doesn’t work out the best . I’m transitioning currently & it’s a wild ride that is exciting, exhilarating and a whole lot more fun than I ever have had on any day. Million dollar question ; Is it worth it?

Someone close to me told me that the world doesn’t know how dark and twisted it gets when I am in my lows mentally. The lengths it takes me to pick myself up from the self induced depression and anxiety I struggle with. That’s why it has me thinking, is this sense of joy & contentment worth it, if at all there stands a chance of me completely falling back to my dark place. Could I be convincing myself that it’s not just a matter of time, that whatever I have going on won’t be my ultimate downfall ?That I may finally have my last straw and loose myself in my own demons if things go wrong at the end. Am I able to pull the plug with my mental state in one complete form or will I be in pieces unrecognizable to even myself?

It scares me. Everything downright scares me shitless. On one hand, I don’t want to not live because I wasn’t strong enough to try and fail or try and win. But I’m also not gonna deceive myself by ignoring the fact that I’m not mentally capable like everyone else. My mind doesn’t function like everyone else’s… Will I need two or three more therapists to get me out of my personal mental hell if I continue giving myself a chance to live without the certainty of the consequences of my actions. I have walls built up so high, you’d think I’m a castle… Is it worth it, peeking out to see if I’ll survive beyond the walls that my mind have convinced me are there to protect me despite being well aware I’m a prisoner instead. It’s a hard risk to take….A very dangerous one too. Asking myself how worth it it is may be the wrong question all together… Maybe what I should be asking is if I can handle it whether I’m in it or not.. ?

I had all this planned out in my head & I had the words spilling out of me a second ago, but now I’m pretty sure all my words are out the window. I should probably start by admitting that I’m one walking confusion. I’m worse than a wave because my ‘tide’ just never seems to hit any less harder at any one moment. I don’t have a calm is what I’m trying to say. In less than a week since I wrote, I feel like I’ve felt everything & it’s breaking down my walls. That, is some scary shit right there. I’ve been told time and again how much my walls don’t protect me but instead they cage me in and imprison me. What most people don’t realize, is that I don’t mind being caged if it means I can shield any sort of ‘ray of sunshine ‘ that’s gonna start of nice & calm and in the long run, it’s gonna scotch me just cause I let myself think I deserved it.

I apologize for my sacarstic metaphoric nature here. To down it down a little, what I’m simply trying to say is that over time, I’ve learned to embrace how diversely fucked up I am. Trying to cut myself some slack by thinking I can change that that’s become my nature, only ever does more harm than good. Humans are scared of change. Probably the one other thing I can say I relate to that proves my humanity isn’t all that different from the rest of the human race. I feel like I’m caught between worlds right now. I’m in a realm of my own and in time, I’ll need to jump out of it. I’m just not certain where to jump to and what it might mean for my bleak mind .

Emotions are deceiving. I can honestly say that is one thing I have come to learn the hard way. They blind you from reason, even if it’s right in front of you. I want to jump where my emotions are telling me that the ride of a lifetime is right ahead & maybe, just maybe, in the midst of the black hole I’ve been falling in for so long, there’s some ray of light. But I’m scared, petrified even . Jumping or in this case free falling with the hope of not feeling any more pain is a risk I’m not sure is worth taking. The outstretched hand that is reaching out for me to just grab onto it has me tempted to pee in my knickers… Then there’s the other jump, that really won’t be much of a jump since it won’t need me to leave my ‘prison’. It assures me that I won’t have to feel pain further than I am accustomed to. It assures me that nothing will change. I’ll be behind bars that will close off any scorching rays or unfulfilled hopes of any light at the end of my hollow black 🕳. It assures me no sense of change, cause it’s exactly what I’m afraid of.

I don’t wanna ever say that I failed cause I never gave hope a shot. I don’t know how long I have before I have to jump or before ‘my walls’ are penetrated (oh that sounded so wrong 😬😂) but I know stalling won’t cut it for me. I could either embrace the change and run the risk of completely loosing my mind at the end, or I could live to wonder whether things would have been different if I did jump. I know that outstretched hand won’t always be there, and as much as it scares me to reach out to it, it’s beginning to scare me more to loose it.

This is getting exhausting. I’m all too familiar with this feeling, it’s soon going to drive me to the blink of death. It’s beginning to physically ache me. From the not so subtle tummy aches, to the sleeping too much. That’s when I know I’m drowning all over again. Just when I was beginning to catch a bearing in my sea of monsters, just right when I was rising above the swarm of hands working extra hard to pull me down. Here I am now ,back to feeling broken. Maybe I was just never put together as I thought. It just needed a little nudge to break me further into tinier pieces .

Allow me to make a confirmation here and now. If I never get to figure out what happiness for me will entail, allow me to walk into death at least peacefully. I rot inside each time this tide chooses to hit me every so often. Eventually ,a girl’s gotta give up and quit trying right?! No longer will the nudges from friends hold me together forever. If I can’t fucking stand on my own, when I’m I ever gonna learn how to walk away from this.

Twenty minutes later….

I wanna say I feel a lot more relieved but it’s just the ache in my chest that’s gone. The demons in my head are having a field day since they succeeded .I gave in to what’s become a part of my sad reality. I gave them my pain & my blood. They seem to only feel a sense of satisfaction when I feel a fraction of physical pain. They are appeased when I trade mental calmness for a few drops of my blood through my hands. I’m weak and I know it. I no longer fight it since its my only solace for now. I wish I could quit having “normalcy streaks ” every so often. It would make it less hard for me when my demons awaken. It would lessen my anxiety a notch enough for me to figure my way around it. The sense of normalcy just becomes a mirage since its so tuned out & blurry when my demons awaken. It’s truly not worth the feeling of a false sense of reality and relief.

I have no apologies anymore to give to anyone for my choices. Only in my cage, would one understand that you gotta do what it takes to survive.Even if it rips you apart .This, this is my survival.


“I’m sorry am at this again; I really am. I wish I knew what exactly is hurting inside but it feels a lot like a soundless cry. I am not depressed…I am not in any emotional turmoil… I’m just numb and hollow. It’s dark where I am right now. Very dark and just downright empty. How I wish I was normal & wasn’t so melodramatic but sadly this is where I am right now . It’s exhausting when nightfall comes. I no longer hear those bad voices inside my head, they are quiet now …isn’t it what I always hoped for??….then why does it feel so lonely now? Why does it feel like I preferred when they whispered to me in my sleep than now when it’s just me .I wish I could speak and say what exactly feels out of place. I wish this was just a temper tantrum and I am in search of some sort of attention.. I would smack myself out of it. Or maybe it just is… I really don’t know anymore.

I wish I had signed myself up for this because then I could sign myself right out. It wouldn’t feel this exhausting to feel this dark and cryptic….to feel like an alien just cause your mind can’t seem to cut you some slack and think like a sane person. I doubt I know complete sanity or what it remotely feels like. Sad how the world can never see how unput together I am. How fucked up I am up here and how empty it is. Quite a pity really…

I’m proud of myself though. I am not in any pain. I don’t want to hurt myself too.. at least not yet anyway. It always doesn’t have to be physically, not trying to pick myself out of this pit of darkness is enough lack of effort to be considered self harm. I don’t feel sad either. I feel nothing. I really do apologize because I wish I could sound less sad and depressing but I was hoping I could push writing this long enough for it to fade away but guess I failed at that too 😟…

Funny how numb is a feeling.. Just a feeling of hollow oblivion. I wish I was stronger. I wish I wasn’t this vulnerable to falling over the edge. I wish my mind was stronger. I wish a lot of things but look how far wishing brought me. I’m a lonely psychotic. I feel the furthest from sane and that is just sadly my truth. Maybe I never really should have been quick to count “my little wins ” …look at how that turned out…

Falling over the edge 😔

Tonight I took a ‘walk’ down memory lane and I read my blog posts from an year ago….I didn’t think they would take that much of a toll on me like they have. Not my best moments but what can I say, life is not all colorfull & dandy, sadly. Even with my little wins, I couldn’t help but have this constant reminder in my head that’s it’s been an year since I experienced my depression. Sad to say that I still regard it as that, as mine .I never really wrapped my head around why I acknowledged & owned it with such vigor and that despite the one year difference, a part of me still does.

Reading the post of my raw emotions then, has really hit home for me. It scares me shitless just thinking about how much turmoil I carried around me back then .It was a darkness that was just too darn dark, even for me. It crippled me and downright stripped me of everything that remotely brought any sense of joy, tranquility, peace and strength. Reading those post a few minutes ago was my last straw in admitting something that has been more or less hovering in my head .The truth of the matter is that, I’m so scared 😔. So scared that I am not too far of the rails to tip off and land back in the same pit I fought my way out of. Call me crazy or just expressing ptsd from it but I will always carry the fear of going off my mental stability rails and loosing myself like I did all over again .

Tonight I got to feel it take a step closer to the face front of mind. I had my first anxiety attack in a while. I could feel the panic rise from deep within and cripple me just like old times .It never hides too far. Depression and anxiety will always feel like a peeping Tom for me. I would be kidding if I said I think or believe that I’m fully mentally cable to endure that again and not come out more scarred than the first time.

I wanna convince myself that all this unhealthy thoughts are steming from it being around the same period last year when I felt like a pile of shit. I wanna chant it like a mantra over and over again that I’m not going to crumble even if it feels as though am sitted on the edge of my pathetic self pity chair. To end this misery of a post, I’m gonna conclude by promising to not allow myself to sink into depression $ anxiety again… I’ve gotta cut myself just enough slack to push through this turmoil. ✌🏾

A weakness in Love 👩‍❤️‍👩

I’ve never been one to show weakness out front to the world.. The most I have revealed myself and torn down my high built walls is on this platform. As I write this, I am for the first time choosing to strip myself of my confidence and let it out that I feel a weakness that has been with me & am not sure if I will ever learn to depart from it. It’s a feeling that has rendered me weak for nearly five years now. I knew I wasn’t invisible to it, I just never thought I would feel it this intensely. Just thinking about it is enough to render my heart beats a little bit fast than usual.

I never signed up to feel this kind of way. I never signed up to love someone who at times didn’t feel worth loving ….but I still did. I hate that it’s not new to you for me to speak about how much turmoil this love has brought me. It’s crazy because it ever seems to me like I feel it dig deeper than before. I’ve seen and felt just a substantial amount of pain just for feeling this kind of love. It’s gotten me so damn scared to let go as well as so petrified to try again. I’ve never really known with this kind of love, but one thing’s for sure, it’s given me a weakness I’m not so sure I like to feel.

Time and time again I have gone in circles about how toxic I’ve felt for just feeling this kind of love. I feel unworthy to even mention the love’s name for fear of the shame it may bring me due to prior cases of having written about them. I hate the constant intrusion of thoughts of them being in my mind just because I can’t seem to quite shake off the weak feeling I get from loving them. It’s been an exhausting kind of love to feel if I’m being truly honest. It’s caused me more pain than I wish to go down memory lane for.

Not too long ago, a thought that I want to consider absurd popped up in my mind …that maybe this twisted connection that was created could have been a soul mate connection. But the little scared girl in me is too weak to let that thought out there just in case I stand a chance of great humiliation for even remotely thinking that my sense of weakness could feel as intensely as I do. “On too many occasions did it feel like loving you and you loving me was a game of tag . In all our time together, I placed the burden on you for me being too scared to acknowledge that I was just scared of being alone. I should have handled that better. But even now despite my light bulb moment, I still feel like I will always fall second to you. I will never be enough when it’s all I ever just wanted to be for you. I have hurt you previously because I needed to build a shield for myself to ease the constant feeling of failure of never being good enough.I am now truly sorry for all those times I strived to make you feel like you had to fight just a little for all of my attention when truly In my heart, all you just needed to do was ask. Call this petty or melodramatic but our relationship was never like any other that resembled ours. It’s what made me feel like we were special…the fact that I had never cared for anyone else before you like I did you. My heart had only ever felt that connected to my mother who was in doubt not a stranger to me but with you, you were in all certainty a stranger to me… And that’s what made you special and loving you became a weakness. Because I learned to love you when my heart was bleeding, torn and felt beyond repair. I squeezed you in a heart built of closed off tears and an immense grief that chokes me till date….and for that, you gained a place in a deserted hole too dark to know the difference between pained grief and being understanding …you built a love that became a weakness for me to you …

As I conclude this mini monologue I just had, I’m not too sure I wanna feel this weak anymore. I’m not certain there is an anymore for’ us ‘…It truly hasn’t been the easiest thing letting go. I thought that if I put enough strength into hating you, it would change how I feel about truly still caring for you.. I don’t wanna put myself up for another feel or sense of loss like I already do now. I just want to be comfortable enough to let go of caring enough to let myself go from having you as a weakness. I need to quit tying myself around you over and over again and finally just slowly and fully let you go. I don’t wish that our story would have been different because then I never would have felt like we were the special duo that we both can agree to have been. I hope that when I don’t feel so weak and so scared, I will be able to cross that bridge enough to be this weak upfront with you.

My demons make me special

I have realized something about myself recently that’s been constantly in my head and I don’t have an actual understanding of whether it’s normal for it to happen as it is to me. I don’t exactly know what I feel anymore concerning a lot of things. Let me rephrase that, I don’t know anymore when it concerns my depression and whether it’s still there or not. Am not exactly your happy champ nor am I sulking in a pool of wallow. I feel a lot more of numbness and i am not sure whether to be worried about it. I know that my depression is still lurking in my mind and it’s toying with my emotions every once in a while. I know for sure it’s there because it’s a constant thought in my mind. I am not exactly phased by the fact that I am slowly growing numb to my emotions and I am not breaking down but instead am just not reacting as I was earlier. Now it feels like am a bystander who just watches their life loose meaning to them and not have the simple life pleasures I wish I could like happiness and joy. But what scares me the most to top it all of, I don’t mind the numbness.

I have also very recently become a cynical person. I like the damage and the aura of pain that’s around me. Not sure what that exactly makes me but I sure do know it’s not a good thing. I am no longer scared of writhing in emotional pain and psychological turmoil. I feel like I am holding on it for some reason. Maybe it’s because it’s the only thing that’s mine and that’s not trying to leave me or abandon me. As crazy as this may sound, I appreciate having something that’s mine and that is not exactly being with me forcefully. It actually seems like it likes sticking around.This is what makes me such a sinister human being and I know it doesn’t portray a good image. If I were to make a headline it would probably sound something along this lines ‘Depressed Mercy holds on to pain despite it breaking her and news flash, she doesn’t mind as much ‘...I will probably receive a lot of judgement from those who will read this because they probably don’t understand why I would not fight to loose my depression and heal.They just don’t understand that healing will mean normalcy, it will mean me loosing what at the moment makes me feel special and wanted. When you have had your fair share of looses, you’d understand why I am holding on to the one thing that’s not looking for a reason to leave me. I am full of shit and now to add icing to the ‘cake’ that’s my messed up mind, all I feel for myself is self pity. I am so full of it it’s ozing off me in torrents. I feel so sorry for myself for the life I am living, for the poor excuse of a person I have become and for the fact that I can’t be good enough to keep someone long enough to love me. Sad isn’t it, that this is what I have been reduced to. Not feeling anything other than self pity. Well I guess when I decided to take it a day at a time, I didn’t exactly realize my life would slowly be turning into a joke right before my eyes. ✌