I am sad when I hold nothing in my hands and sad when I hold something I have not been given the option to reject. I resent the idea of living in my own squalor but reject the notion of tidying my own space. I decline to be in the company of others but detest the idea of loneliness in the dark of night. I am dubious of knowing exactly how my life unfolds but entirely terrified of not knowing. I never know what I want and I never want anyone to help me decide.

Realising you have mental illness puts a lot of things into perspective. Like, how not everyone thinks about killing themselves when they can't find their homework, or lose their wallet, or leave their coat in school. Like how it isn't normal to feel like you want to rip all of your skin off when you notice another thing you don't like about it. I hadn't realised all of that wasn't normal, because that was all I remembered feeling and I thought everyone must have felt the same.

I'm not even aware about how I feel anymore; I don't get angry about things I should and usually would get angry about; I don't get sad (at least I think I don't); I don't feel happy; I don't feel anything. I think I've just removed myself from being. There is too much to handle and I've just complete detached and I don't feel real or substantial, and I feel no consequence will come of my actions. All I'm doing now is going through the motions of being a real-life person, hoping no one will notice, or hoping someone will notice... Honestly, though, there is no time for me to have another break down, not in the next week, not in the next months. It's a marathon, and I cannot stop now, because if I stop I might figure out how tired I really am and never be able to start again.

Better Things Ahead?

I realise I only ever come here when I am sad and to dish out my sorrows in the form of cryptic poems and prose, but tonight I have nicer things to write about. Well, I just got an email telling me that I've been invited for an interview at Oxford University. It's quite another feeling when one of the best schools in the world tells you "hey, we think you're good enough to get a fighting chance at being here." I am still in quite a detached state, this feels surreal, it is great news, I know.

I can't quite get the part of my mind that panicks about everything to slow down and stop telling me "GO READ THE BOOKS ON THE READING LIST"
"GO SET UP PRACTISE INTERVIEWS"
"GO REVIEW THE THINGS YOU LEARNT ABOUT ON YOUR INTERNSHIP"
and let me enjoy the moment a little bit more before I start having my anxiety attacks.

I hope it goes well, I hope I enjoy my first time in Europe. I also hope I can walk without crutches by then, it would be a great inconvenience if I had to take them on a flight across the world with me.

Things might just be looking up, because I've found a new island to swim to in the ocean and it's closer than the other one.

A lot of the times I think I'm not pretty, but then I also think about how it shouldn't matter that much to people who matter.

A Dream Like Many Others

I close my eyes and see

I'm on the beach by the bay

The waves are cool and strong

I walk into them without a second thought

The water reaches my waist

The water reaches my chest

The water reaches my neck

Now my head too, all underwater

I keep walking, the sand is all soft

I don't bother breathing 

I know I cannot

The walking continues on 

I choke and I stop, short

But I don't try to get up, not even a little 

I fight it, I stay, I swallow water.

I know when it all goes dark 

and I'm done

My body will make its way up.

My existence is an inconvenience.