Tag Archives: pain

Another Friday

Nausea, exhaustion, pain. I’m tired of feeling this way, of fighting each day & night these terrible thoughts. I hate this body – not only because it’s disgusting, but because it constantly hurts. What is it like to go through your days without each step, each breath you take, each slight move hurting? I can’t even try to imagine that; it must be soothing.


I’m not an artist.

I paint pictures on my body
in black, blue and red.
Permanent reminders
of memories long gone and dead.

This paintbrush in my hand
is all that I really need
And tonight I cannot help
but give in, concede.

I wish my story was
a happy one to tell,
but why should I kid myself?
I’ll always be rotting in hell.

What if?

Every day is a battle, and every day seems to be getting harder and harder to get through. I know it’s because my mood is currently diving all the way down to hell, and I know that there have been days that were easier, that weren’t as bad, but when I spend my nights watching self-destructive memories flash in front of my eyes and my days questioning if I should eat something, if I should get out of bed, if I should continue my life or not, then it’s just a bit difficult to remind myself of the positive aspects of my life and of easier times.

I wish I could tell my mind to just put a sock in it. I wish I could tell it to think about my best friends, my very much beloved boyfriend, about the little things that make me laugh like bad jokes and videos/pictures of kittens and puppies (and all the sweet baby animals out there), but it’s just, unfortunately, not an option all the time. Things that trigger me, even if it’s just the smallest situation, seem to be getting the best of me each time, and it doesn’t matter how often I count from 1 to 10, or how much I try to control my breathing and bite my lips to keep the screaming, the pain inside; I just always seem to be standing on the edge of a cliff, swaying back and forth, threatening to fall.

They say that it gets easier. I agree. It can get easier, it does get easier, but the issue is that out of nowhere it can get horribly worse again, and if you aren’t prepared for that, if you haven’t quite learnt how to fly instead of fall, it just fucking sucks. I want to believe and hope and fight, but my God, currently? Currently I’m hopeless. Currently I’m standing in front of the mirror, hating every inch of this body, wondering how it’s possible that I’m loved. Currently I’m hearing every single voice inside of my head yelling curses at me, hitting me from each side. And my God, they say that fire cannot kill a dragon, yet what if all this time I’ve seen myself as a dragon, I’ve been nothing but a puppet in a cruel play; what if the only purpose I have is to wait till the curtain closes and my puppet masters decide to cut the strings in order to choke me with them? What if, what if, what if?

What if I’m just too tired, too old, too broken to go on?


coloured in black and blue,
this body is no longer
a piece of art. The frame
ought to be burnt,
too broken
to be fixed.

Follow @othertypist.


Words of remorse
yet the damage is
done. It’s easy to
eat one’s words, but be careful to not

Follow me on Twitter.


I will burn
you until
ashes are all
there is left.
I will scatter you
all over
this city, so
you can finally see
what it’s like to

4 o’clock

It’s 4 o’clock in the morning and my heart is beating too fast; I feel like I’m drowning.

It’s 4 o’clock in the morning and I’m trying to reach out, but my arms and legs feel as heavy as stones; my voice is swallowed by the darkness surrounding me.

It’s 4 o’clock in the morning and I’m still awake, crying as though letting go of tears will help me letting go of this pain.

It’s 4 o’clock in the morning.
I’m here, but where are you?