I wrote this 'poem', this stream of consciousness, a long time ago it seems. Everything was dark then and I couldn't see a way out of my spiral into a carousel of destructive thinking. However, I'm still here. I'm different, stronger for the experience. I wish I could learn the lesson without the reality of living that lesson, but that's life isn't it! I'm proof that no matter how far you've fallen there is always a way back up.
Flicking through
The endless faces
Hopeful false flashing smiles
Painfully stretched
Beneath unsmiling hollow eyes
I search for a familiar face
Or something that faintly resembles
Even one tiny aspect of her
Something that sparks in me
A brief instance of familiarity
A feeling of hope, of a future
All is returned, bounced back in a fly blown mottled mirror
Are the same people looking for lost loves?
Kidding themselves they’ve moved on
Grown apart, grown up?
Desperately searching for a familiar face that they burned in a photograph long ago?
A face that they secretly hope to see again?
Even if it’s in the far distant future
And anyway, what would you say
If by some miracle you met?
Fumbled mumbled platitudes of
You’re looking well, and how’s your mum?
All the while, inside screaming
Did you miss me?
Do you hate me?
Are you single, happy, married
Can we start again?
Fooling yourself that you’re a different person,
And looking at some recent selfie you think I’ve aged well
Like a fine wine or an old cheese?
And in the words of Eliot I grow old, I grow old, I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled’
Recent pictures show you indeed
That you’ve become old, comfy cushioned shoes and expanding elastic waistbands
Replacing the super skinny jeans
You once poured yourself into, even when you should have known better
Trying to hold back the waistline as well as the years,
Knowing deep down it would never have worked
Never been seen as right and proper
By others who couldn’t understand
The intensity of our love
The sheer abandon of two people grasping at that act to perhaps hide old wounds, old lovers, old memories.
I continue to take pictures
A pictorial journal of my journey
From noose to my supposed rebirth
Where everything becomes clearer
Where the wrinkles deepen and the
Chin sags, wonderfully hidden beneath a beard that I secretly hate
Where I look out into the world
Smiling wide and composed
But inside I’m dust, empty and waiting to be filled with hope
My hair is thinning
Joints are aching
I can’t even open a jar of marmalade or jam without my fingers screaming Stop
Was I too old for her from the beginning?
Did I always feel that I was just a toy
A thing to use and throw away
When I’d been wrung dry
Squeezed out
Then discarded
An old horse, falling at the final fence
And then simply shot
Or did I self sabotage?
At last I had found a woman to love
Forever, so I thought.
Did I deserve this unknown feeling
This strange awareness that
After years of searching, of broken people
Broken homes
That when I looked upon her sleeping beside me
I felt such happiness
Such contentment
That it made my very soul hurt
And my smile
That no one else could see
Stretched from ear to ear
As I listened to her gently breathing
The warm air brushing my throat
I would wake early in the morning
To just watch her
To wonder why she loved me
Why she chose me?
Did she see my weakness
Did she see my strength, well hidden
Was she in love with me
Or just an idea?
Did she have any idea of how much
She meant to me
That if I’d been well and not off
On one of my tortuous self inflicted
Journeys into darkness
That I would have moved heaven and hell to stay, to be loved
And love in return
I look at my life and there are many regrets
People that have been unfortunate enough to love me
To receive cold comfort
And wonder what the fuck did they do wrong?
That they could have changed me, moulded me, make it all better
When unknowing to both of us
I was damaged long ago
And didn’t realise until
Hanging from a rope
That I had reached bottom
That I could sink no lower
Than taking my own life
And for what?
Lost love, lost opportunities and
A life wasted when the possibilities
Should have been limitless
I’m kidding myself, I’m lying
When I say I’m better
That the drugs are working
And that all that soulless self help shit
Presented with a monotone moroseness
That actually sends you deeper into yourself
Is wasted, pointless,
Merely ticking another box
How then? I hear you ask Are you still here?
How have you managed to get past the knotted noose
The anxiety, the panic attacks
The crushing low self esteem
The depression
The loneliness
The unanswered questions?
I’ve had to fight hard
I’ve done some tough stuff in the past
But recovering, changing the very essence of you, so you can continue
To breathe, to live laugh love again
Is the toughest battle of all
And it’s a battle that is fought in solitude, you face the ranks of devils on your own
With a packet of pills and a zoom meeting or two
You look upon the hordes of memories, of experiences as they stream past you, scratching and biting
Some grabbing hold of your hair
Wild red eyes boring into your soul
Pleading, threatening, cajoling, to be kept alive, to let them rest awhile
In your head
After all, they’ve been your friends
For such a long time
And as you say farewell
And tear their knotted cruel hands from your hair
You wonder what will fill the void that they leave behind
Am I not those memories, those false harbingers of constant doubt
My lifelong comrades thrown out
What is left?
Who the fuck am I without those stick thin demons poking and pulling
At my soul every second of every minute
I’m trying to quickly fill the sudden uneasy emptiness
With joy
Trying to be a new me,
Or the old me,
The me that should have been
Before the something happened
Before I lost hope
And retreated into an inferior me
Where I could be happy in
Accepting the barest minimum
Never being overly happy or sad
Accepting disappointment or triumph
With the same lacklustre look.
What is the new real old me?
I’m funny
I’m empathetic
I’m caring
I’m generous
I want to be loved
I want to love
I want to be normal
Have a career
Be happy in my achievements
Settle down
Accept who I am
Change who I am
Grow emotionally
I’m stunted that way
I am damaged
But not sure how
Finally knowing that I’m not normal
Is a huge realisation
I’m looking for a label
I like labels
Labels get you help
Pigeon holed and told
You have this and that
And here’s the drugs, here’s the reading list and here’s the pathway
To the person that should’ve been living this life
Not some posing imposter
Someone else taking the credit
For fucking it all up
Whilst the real you watches on
Powerless but screaming nonetheless
Stop Stop Stop!
Watching all those loving people
Like some old Zoetrope image
Flicker around and around
Endlessly repeating those same stupid senseless mistakes
I have come to a conclusion though
That I can simply put my finger down
And slow the circle of self hate, self doubt
I mentioned love at the start of this piece of prose, of poetry
After all, what are we? Why are we here?
Love is what this is all about
How to receive it
From others
And yourself
And in knowing this
How to give it
And keep safe and warm
With someone who can do the same
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