For me memories are like ghosts that haunt the perimeters of my conscious mind, often making me feel ill at ease when I don’t even know why. The more upsetting memories are like demons that torment me from the depths of my unconscious mind, bringing up flashes of painful experiences when I’m least prepared for it and my defences are down. Both want to fill me with self doubt and self hatred and sap every ounce of confidence I once might have had, to leave me an utterly shattered and blithering wreck in the shambles that my life has become. And yet the more I fight the more damage they do, I can’t fucking win! But memories aren’t real are they; merely impressions of times, and places and people long gone that flash and flicker like a silent movie before your eyes and all you’re left with are the ongoing ramifications, consequences and regrets. But what is much more immediate is the guilt, anger and numbing sense of loss that constantly aches in the back of your head and fills you with a dark emptiness. Well I don’t want to remember anymore, or feel the emotional pangs that come with those memories! I have this unshakable feeling I’m already meant to be dead and every moment I’m forced to stay alive is like a stab in the chamber of my heart, and sometimes I can feel myself screaming out in quiet despair at being trapped by circumstance in a life I don’t want to live. Because all I want now is to fall headlong into the vast, fathomless and unending sea of nothingness that lies beyond the veil of death patiently waiting to swallow each and every one of us up forever. For I grew tired of this life many years ago and all I now want is for the pain to stop, I just want to fade away.
But then that is exactly the price you pay when forming close bonds of friendship and complex interpersonal relationships; a sense of obligation to put others before you, and a loss of personal control over your own life. For the fact is when you take friends, lovers or pets into your life in a sense you are willingly giving up a certain degree of self determinacy over the choices you might make because whether we want to admit it or not everything we do affects the ones we choose to love and care for. The person I live with often says he can’t understand me because I’m weird and emotionally unpredictable, and this is true. But what he doesn’t know because I won’t tell him is that every single day I’m struggling with an issue that goes to the very core of our friendship and that can’t be resolved no matter which way I come at it, and believe me I desperately need to solve this but just can’t. Basically this is all about him for he’s the only friend in my entire life who’s ever stood by me, as with everyone else we’ve drifted apart for one reason or another… and that really creates an awkward dilemma. If I choose to stay alive he’s screwed because I’ll resent him till the day I die, but if I do choose to kill myself he’s still screwed because he’ll be left more alone than ever before. Yes in some ways things have gotten better for me as I haven’t been hospitalised once in over a year and I’ve even given up smoking, I think both are pretty big achievements! I’m also spending more time enjoying my interests, passions and hobbies… but it isn’t enough. Our dear old dogs are getting on in years now, and when they go my main reason for staying alive will be gone. I had my 39th Birthday just over a month ago and it was a big deal for me because I’d never wanted to or even planned to reach the age of 40, yet it now looks more likely than ever that I’m going to. I guess it’s just another instance of me having no say in, right to choose my own fate or control over my own life which is extremely galling. Anyways I probably won’t post on here again until the time comes I feel I can’t take anymore, and decide to carry out the deed come what may. Whenever that will be.
Yours Bitterly, Shelly.
8 comments
Awww you guys are meanies, no one commented…
Shelly, your writing is so beautiful and fluid! Very complex and intense, but so passionate!
Congrats on not being hospitalized and quitting smoking! You’re right- those are really great achievements! You should be proud!
Happy extremely belated birthday! 🙂
Hope things go well for you and your partner.
He isn’t my partner, just a gay man I’ve lived with a long time cuz I’m to fucked up to function in this society otherwise. But thanks!!! ^_^
They stand there unmoved by winter’s breath
They watch unblinkered by summer’s sun
They stare through year’s unwinding path
And turn dreams into soured grapes
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Unseen eyes within unformed faces
Frozen in history, departed in time
Unhindered by the moments turn ( oe moments turning )
They cast out mantles of unended dread
Locking, holding and holding more
Until the present is in the past
Dragged into that bloody morass
And moving no more
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Never the first breath, never a new
Always the last breath and it is that they hold true
They stand there, no longer conscious,
Pounding, beating, tearing at terrified flesh
Until enfeebled, soaked in I die again … yesterday, yesterday and never tomorrow
A past that imprisons
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And yet it is not they that see
It is not they that speak
It is only I that look back
Through shadows made real by fear
Through paths made deep by memory
It is I that hold them in my gaze and will not let go
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The above speaks to the impact that the past can have on the present. The tragedy, that we, ourselves, empower the past and in doing so polute not only the ‘now’ but also through the ‘now’, the future.
While the poem rings sadly true for me, I want to but can’t let go…
I wrote the poem five or six years ago and like almost all my poetry had no idea where it was going until it got there. The final lines I find the most intriguing, I admit that it is not they that see me but I who hold onto them. I don’t know why I do it, though I suspect that somewhere deep in me, there is a reason, I don’t want to hold on but I do. I am told that we can not change the past but we can change our relationship with it. I don’t know, I fear that the past has become too much part of me, there is a sadistic pleasure derived from torturing oneself, perhaps a legitimate punishment and somehow and for some reason I do think I should be punished. Hate it but somehow it appears that I have become it, if that makes any sense.
May I ask how old you are cracked, if you don’t mind that is? =)