Something Inside Is Breaking

I’m really resisting the temptation to do what I always do. I’m trying to break the mould I’ve created for myself; but in doing this it honestly feels like I’m actually breaking. I’m feeling broken and I’ve no one I can turn to.

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Pain Equals Creativity

I wish to neither go into the poem or it’s greater meaning. Just know that I wrote this for a man in my life who means a lot to me. So to him and for him this poem is.

Undirected Heartbreak

It felt like I’d just had my heartbroken. I couldn’t write about it though.

No. I just couldn’t.

Instead I did something that very rarely do… I channelled that pain and disguised it into something else.

I’m so used to being so explicit in my poetry about what the actual matter is that at times I wonder if the person who it’s directed at knows. If they do, they never say.

Living With…

My masseuse does tend to like to discuss things when I go for a reflexology session. She draws out the feelings during the treatment and then likes to reason with me on them afterwards.

She kept using the word ‘narcissist’ in relation to my immediate family. * I know my family can at times be narcissistic; but she was wrong in saying that I was a victim of that.

Narcissists produce more narcissists. I’m in no way suggesting that I’m a one myself; but I’m not completely innocent in not being one.

I think I became so used to everything being about everyone else in my family when I lived there; that now I’m alone I’m falling into the habit of becoming self-absorbed.

Before I had others to care for and to watch out for. I used to have to protect my brother from others; and my mother from herself. I never really had time to protect or care for myself; and no one else protected or cared for me.

So now that I’m alone, I know I’m in danger of becoming selfish and self-absorbed; and I hate that. I hate how I feel I’m becoming. Everything is ‘me, me, me’; and I don’t know how to stop it.

*my masseuse is a family friend so she knows my family and so has every right in expressing her personal observation

A Sudden Realisation

I had no idea that what I know I really quite like actually stems from what happened when I was younger.

I never bought into the whole ‘daddy issues’ bullshit; on reflection however, I am now much more sympathetic.

I know it’s taken now to be some kind of kink, but I guess in reality a lot of what we enjoy stems from past experiences.

Visual Inspiration

I adore writing with a visual stimulus. Every once in a blue moon I’ll share a visual stimulus with M and we’ll both write to see what we both come up with from the the same picture. It’s interesting how our minds work so differently.

This was the photo he chose that acted as the spring board for this poem:

Attempt Number 1

I’ve never shared this with anyone. I’ve never had a reason to.

I’d been going to therapy for a long time before this happened, and for a while after; and yet I never thought to bring it up to my therapist.

I wrote this probably around 20 minutes after this event occurred. I never called an ambulance, I never called my grandparents, I never called my bestfriend.

I dealt with the situation. I wrote my poem. I cut my wrist to ribbons. I got up, took a shower, plastered a smile on my face, cared for my brother, cleaned up the mess; and got on with my life like nothing had ever happened.