Imagine that you are made of stars.
A hundred million tiny points of light that make you more beautiful than anyone else. Imagine that, all at once, you are in every wonderful place in the world. Everything looks like cupcakes and sounds like your favourite song. Imagine that you are everything you ever wanted to be and that there is no such thing as happiness because you never need to feel anything other than perfectly, beautifully content like those blissful moments between sex and sleep. Imagine that all around you, existence swirls by like golden autumnal leaves that have been snatched up for a waltz by the breeze. Imagine that all the best moments of your life are pieced together to create everything that is happening to you. Imagine being able to feel the binds of his restraints around your wrists with the taste of his skin on your tongue. Imagine that every time you breathe, it smells of him and every time you blink, his slow smile spreads across the insides of your eyelids. Imagine that you don’t know how to do anything other than be in love.
Imagine that, one at a time, all of the stars are extinguished and you start to fade away. Imagine that, as quickly as your heart can beat, a sparkling star becomes a flake of ash that falls and drifts away from you. Imagine that all of the beauty surrounding you disintegrates into itself until it becomes a mass of liquid nothingness at your feet. Imagine a stillness so silent that you wonder how anything could ever have been real. Imagine the fear you feel as you realize that you are losing yourself . You are left alone, in an almost-dark space staring into a pool of everything that you once had but didn’t deserve, knowing that it could only have been a matter of time before fate realized its mistake. Imagine that you are staring at what should have been forever, wishing on the last few stars that are left that this is just a dream, and wondering how it is possible for one person to be this broken.
Those demons in your head. Questioning your choices, pointing out your every misstep.
Laughing at your pain.
Those never ending voices.
“Who cares about you…?‘
The poker face that you wear everyday, the largest smiles. The longest chuckles, and the loudest laughs.
A mask, an endless inner battle, an almost seamless facade. You wouldn’t guess that they struggle, fighting against the urge to just end it.
To give up.
To be done.
Or how hard it is to get up in the morning. Why even bother?
The brightest, most positive person in the room may very well be sobbing on the inside. Full of sadness.
The internet can make it so much worse.
Inboxes full of hateful annons.
Adding to the spiteful thoughts swirling around in your brain.
No one to take responsibility, No one to stand up to or blame.
Almost as bad as the silence, That feeling of invisibility.
Wanting to reach out, but not appear needy.
Sure, meds are there but they don’t help. Not in the real way.
Feeling numb is accepted as a cure. How did that happen?
People just want to feel BETTER.
So please, keep this in mind, for as long as you can.
When you’re walking around school or work or just hanging with a friend.
Talk to them,
Show them how much they mean to you.
Put in the effort, before it all ends.
You can make a difference. Just be the best you,
make small differences.
Stray away from the hate. Treat people as souls, not just based on their masks. And people will take notice.
Hell, they might even change.
Let’s start revolution one person at a time.
All it takes is mere minutes.
Let’s all make a difference, make somebody’s day.
Maybe even save a few lives.
And if you, The one reading this. Is going through all of this.
the longing for it to just be over.
I just want to let you know on behalf of all of your friends and family, every single person that you have touched in some way,
Just in case they have been quiet,
Or if you don’t have anyone supporting you,
You’re an amazing individual.
You are strong as hell and most certainly not alone in this scenario.
People do care,
Everyone makes mistakes,
You will get through this.
And I am here to listen whenever those voices or feelings get to be too much.
When you have that urge to hide away, berate yourself, and cry.
To help you through those hiccups in the road-I swear to you. I’ll stop what I’m doing, and we can talk it through.
When you need a friend I will happily be here, quick to your side.
Waiting to hear from you, daring you to smile when you’re going through hell.
To distract you from those demons hidden in your head, and point out just how great you are.
So you right there,staring at this screen,
Contemplating some really hard stuff.
I’m right here, cheering you on.
Now I just have one more thing to say,
You are going to win this battle. Just don’t you dare give up!
When I was young I could only imagine death , my obsession grew and I lay awake at night surrounded in darkness imagining nothing, no one really to talk to or explain it all to me. So I filled this blank dark space with stars, and each star was alive with someone I cared about, and slowly as I grew older the stars started to fill up and there was no blank space or stars, and as people filtered into my life only to leave again yet again I fill the black sky thinking of death as I always do, and I see stars and light shining way above me. And the silence you ask? well I simply fill that with music, so much music, sad songs, happy songs, strange songs, noises that fill every sense of your soul, and leaves you thinking, IF I am truly alone, how can someone create something that sings to my soul?
See there is never darkness around you, how could you possibly see the darkness if there was never any light? And tell me this if it is so quiet, if you too are alone with no one to talk too like me, no one to reach out too – tell me why there is a song in your head soothing your soul, some forgotten gem that drifts into your mind. IF you truly fear the dark why can a stunning sunset draw a tear to your eye, we cannot possibly never hurt, or cry, parts of us will die inside, the other parts they will fight for you, there is no tomorrow for any of us nothing in life is certain, but we have today and we have right now, and the ability within that not one of us can measure until it is needed.
The day maybe drawing to a close, you may like me be frustrated by it all, thinking what have I achieved, what have I done, I can answer without asking, you have lived today, you are breathing and that is inspirational in itself.
There is hope in living, however strained it is there, there are stars to guide you and music to love you, hope can consume you. Maybe Idealistic maybe not, what is certain is you have the here and now, and you will have love, and you will find that place, go gently forward because the past is not something you can change, but the future is yours to shape.
you know that feeling when you’re lying on the ground and all your blood is pouring out and you know you’re slowly dying, but you’ve lost too much blood that you can’t get up, and you don’t even care to do anything about it? that’s me right now. and I’m not sure if what I’m seeing now is a dream or if my life is flashing before my eyes or if it’s something else, but
this is what I see: I’m hunched over the toilet puking my brains out, and a voice tells me the end of the world is coming. somehow I have the energy to run to your house. somehow, before the windows shatter and everything becomes nothing, I grab your hand and this is how we turn to dust.
this is what I see: I barge into your room as you’re taking a toke, and at first you panic, but then you say, “oh, okay. it’s just you.” it’s just me.
this is what I see: the world is spinning. it’s a blur of lights, a carousel of colours. I’m dancing. when I close my eyes, I see myself falling, but keeping my eyes open makes me feel dizzy. I’m confusing the sights I see with opened eyes for the pictures I see with closed eyes. I’m scared to death. I’m crying hysterically. I’m so fucking drunk.
this is what I see: my guts on the footpath. it looks like a picture I sketched last week. it looks like the bruises on my left hip and right cheek. I see a world with no sun but with flashlights blinding me and one hundred faces in my face poking me with sticks and asking me if I’m still alive.
this is what I see: I’m running. the wind is strong enough to push me down to my knees, and running too fast is still not fast enough, so I run until my lungs crumble and I collapse and I cry I cry I cry. I look like I’m drowning in a river but feeling alright. I see myself lying in the grass and I’m inhaling, I’m exhaling. the earth underneath me is breathing with me, and maybe I will not die alone after all.
“Laying alone with the history that made you cold and uncertain inside. Careful now, deep breath, the water’s still rising. But your silver lining’s in sight.”
What could of been, should of been, might of been?
What you see, what you think, whats real, and whats not.
Confusion, peace, despair, hope, anger, sadness, happiness.
If only this. If only that. Just to go back. Just to move forward.
There is here. There is now. There is you and nothing else.
My thoughts pull me under and I reach for you to pull me up. You deliver me from myself and provide the easy silence I need, the comfort and protection.
Never fooling me into believing its over or going to be easy, but just promising yourself, never for me to be alone.
I don’t know who you are or why I had the sudden urge to write this. You could be anyone in the whole wide world. But for some reason, you were on my heart this morning. I haven’t slept all night, and I guess staring at the ceiling makes one think about what really matters.
You’re one-of-a-kind, you know that? Not factory-made, not mass-produced, not something but someone. Even if you’re a twin or triplet, you’re uniquely and wonderfully you. There is something about you that no one else has, and that the world would be woefully without if it were taken away. From the curve of your eyelashes to the barest hint of a smile at one corner of your mouth when you’re trying not to laugh, you’re a collection of little miracles all wrapped up into one special and wonderfully made package. Each of your cells custom-made, chains of DNA specifically forged and coded just for you. But you’re more than science. You’re tangible and intangible, physical and ethereal, radiating emotion and life from your mass and though you may not see it, you’re an essential part of this world. You’re not an accident, and you’re here for a reason. Though it’s sometimes hard to understand why things can be so hard, and you may come to question your very existence, you must never let go. Because with you gone, there’d be a black hole that’d suck everyone into a gloomy darkness, because your light would be irreplaceably extinguished. You may think you’re unloved, friendless, rejected, alone, but you’re never really alone. Every word and deed you speak and commit form a thread in the web of your life, and you never know how another person, invisible to you, may need that thread as a lifeline. So don’t hold back; don’t give up. Remember that people need you to be you and that you’re not just a statistic, not just a name or a number, but a living breathing amazing person, someone who’s part of something bigger than life itself. Times are tough, you may fail and fail again, but you must never stop trying. Never, ever. There are dreams waiting for you to discover, people waiting for you to come into their lives and brighten their days, and miracles waiting to happen. Just please, please, please believe. Because believing is what makes dreams come true, even if they’re dreams you never knew you even had.
The ghosts, they walk amongst us.
Shadowing us, hiding around corners waiting. A sudden laugh in a party, a glint in a stranger’s eye, a smell or sound that suddenly makes your pulse quicken and an ill chill finger itself up your spine and grasp your neck.
Maybe I have been too sure of late. Too certain, too stupid. Oblivious, unseeing.
That email conversation; that piece of agony and recrimination that I thought I had deleted forever from my inbox. I read the words slowly, pushing myself to finish it, hating every minute but needing to do it, like sucking at a bad tooth. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth where I subconsciously bite my lip. My heartbeat quickens as a fog descends upon my brain and the whole world seems to slide on its axis and leave me reeling and nauseous, in a limbo of my own making. As it was at the time.
And I feel you, ghost. I feel you behind me, your hand heavy on my shoulder. You have found the box, the box inside my head where our words were laid to rest. You have prised it open, for I never locked it. Your words, as always, drown mine out. Your fingers, ice-cold with bitterness, pluck every innocent phrase, every plea, every apology, every ounce of love and respect in that conversation and scatter it before my eyes once more.
You laugh your hollow laugh with your cold, dead eyes and remind me of my wrongdoings, my failings, my flawed humanity whilst you move in to suck the certainty from my undeserving marrow.
Listen, ghost. Look. There is a storm coming.
Watch as the blue sky bloodies and bruises. Watch as the crows wheel and caw in the rising winds, circling, curious. Listen to the leaves sing out high in the waving trees, see them fall to the ground small and brown, then whip and twirl around my bare ankles and then rush ahead in their little chattering gangs. Either dancing, or afraid.
Hear the black dog howl.
And, over in the vacant plot, see the lone magpie peck and scratch amongst the nettles and the rubbish. Watch her hop amongst the discarded chip wrappers, the plastic bags that dance on the low, cold breeze. Watch her, and watch her well.
Walk with me a while, ghost. There is a storm coming.
Walk with me when the rain starts. Keep that heavy hand on my shoulder as my soaked hair whips my face and the cold rain clings. Walk with me as I raise my face to the bellowing skies to feel, to taste, to live each raindrop. To live.
Ghost, the storm will set me free.
Ghost, the storm will return you to where you belong, carried away with the howling winds along the rain-drenched slick black streets where I cried so many times for you.
But I will fear you no more.
You probably didn’t notice the empty bottles of gin on the dresser beside my bed where you fucked me. I guess I can’t really call it rape if you said, “Spread your legs, babe” and I listened. It was hard for you to hold me after that; I was shivering and shaking and crumbling into pieces, and you know, it’s hard to hold a body that’s just pieces. You can fuck my body, but that doesn’t mean shit— it’s hard to hold a body when the hands are silently catching stardust in a daydream.
I had a dream that I was hit by a car on my way to your house. Losing blood wasn’t even what was important about it. What mattered was that I had repressed emotions that needed an escape route. I heard an ambulance in the distance, but I was just fine. I limped the rest of the way to your house and left a trail of blood on the path. Had to let you know that the suicidal thoughts do not glitter; they’re not shards of glass that you feel pressing into your skin. They’re not bright like headlights gleaming in your face while you’re sinking in the passenger’s seat, drowning in the idle talk dripping from the driver’s mouth. Surprisingly, they’re not wet like tears or blood; they’re dried up, and what’s been drained from me has no colour. My thoughts are colourless—they don’t shine.
Pricked you with a fork and looked for your soul’s escape route, but you didn’t fall out; you stayed in your body, and instead I was the bleeding mess on the floor. It was your bedroom floor mess, you called it. I left the vomit exactly how it spilled out— the belly of an angel and her glittery muck. What a mess, you say, what a goddess. It was my brain spat out into physical reminders.
Someone once told me that every ten years, your body is completely anew, like your cells have died and been replaced by new ones so you’re not the same hunk of matter you once were, but you’re somehow still you because you have your memories.
8am. park sitting, I am thinking about you. I am thinking about when I was passed out on the couch at the pub and you were putting your shoes on at the door. Your voice was the sound of my favourite record spinning while the fabric of the couch was fading from my touch. With my head fading out of our conversation, your voice was cracking in all the right spots, breaking me in all the right places. One day I’ll see your face smiling in a fogged window from the outside, and it won’t hurt the way it does right now.
I sit here home now,a hunk of this. Thinking. Looking at pictures. You can swim in the distance in his eyes. You made that distance gallons of water to drown yourself in. Liquid kisses— the sex with the glittering orgasms— your touch was first neon and electric, then it was snowflakes landing on the skin, and now it’s just clouds in the sky.