WHO AM I ANYMORE

She was rose petals, and frilly skirts. Blonde hair and curls, always perfectly placed. She’d drink bubbly teas and ask strangers what their names were. I remember how bright the days were then, always seemed more vibrant than the past. Though these days never did quite seem to last.

She’d fade to this mellow gal, wearing overalls and had buttercups in her hair. Sometimes it was blue, others red, I think at one point it was even hot pink? She changed it so often I’ve lost track. Always smelt of fresh leaves and tea tree oil. I think she was forgetting to take care of herself. You could see the glossiness in her eyes, something wasn’t right but you couldn’t pinpoint just what. She’d hide it well through this ‘healthy’ thing she decided to take up. You know, green tea and yoga on fresh cut grass in the summer breeze. A charade that she truly believed.

Slowly, she’d forget. At first it was the occasional ‘I’ll do it tomorrow’, but tomorrow never quite came because each day would be the same. She switched her high waisted skirts and crop top tees for band shirts and ripped jeans. Her colourful hair was outgrown roots, tied up in messy buns. Not quite so bright, but nevertheless fun. But then.. came the drinking.

One night turned into two. And two turned into a week binge, having to be carried home by the club bouncer because she couldn’t do it on her own. She started asking strangers what their names were again, but this time for different reasons. She seemed to be missing something, herself maybe. That glossiness in her eyes was now a vacant grey and those grown out colours were switched to jet black hair, pierced her nose but swore she was okay. Tea was now whiskey at the bar where you could find the local punk bands play. Doing cocaine in bathrooms with boys she just met who she swears she was friends with. She was fun in a different kind of way. She was dangerous, a hollow shell trying to fill the void by any means possible.

The void slowly began to grow. She stopped going out to drink, but instead did it alone. Drank in dark rooms and wrote about how she used to be. It wasn’t too long ago but it’s hard to think that that was her. Instead now memories haunt her of her dark past and she realized that each part of her was trying to run away. And each time the memory of their hands on her, she would split into the next girl. Each time draining her to the point where she’d forget who she was before it began. And now she’s realized she’s ran all she can.

So she sits there, mind muddled between each of the girls she’s created and the nothingness that’s been slowly eating away at her mind. She doesn’t remember how she got here.

And I can’t believe that she’s me.

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she spoke with my voice

She touched me, although I’m not sure if she is a she. Her voice was my own, which is why I make this possibly false claim. Although there’s no face, and she has no name.

 A quiet whisper is now a subtle voice, I felt her hands on my skin tonight. Telling me it would be okay, that I didn’t need anyone else that with me she’d stay. I’ve been so alone, that it was nice to feel warmth of her touch. 

I’m not sure if that’s crazy, although I don’t care too much. Her skin was dark, not like skin but soot. I could nearly differentiate the shadows from where lay her foot. 

This is not the first time, though this time I don’t want her to go. There’s this feeling of buzzing, this noise of which I cannot stray. She made it all go silent, within that moment I was okay.

cleanse

trying to find a reason to live in empty bottles, that maybe after my fourth or fifth I’ll find hope at the bottom. I’m on my sixth but I don’t care to keep count anymore.

for I’ve found more hope in the bottom of empty wishing wells than I’ve managed to find in the deepest corners of my mind.

 Im tired of tearing my mind apart in hopes of removing the memories you’ve left in me, for they’ve become ingrained in every part of me.

my skin crawls like when you were next to me. Something no shower can remove, no matter how many I take. It always feels like there’s a layer I cannot remove, one that can be temporarily hidden under the blood I’ve bled.

instead I pour alcohol down my throat, not that I want to drink.. but in hopes I’ll feel it cleanse me from the inside out

just for one night .. 

hot water for cold thoughts

Water droplets dripping off my hands,
Pooling on the the floor beneath
As I soak in this bath
that I’ve ran too warm

Hoping to singe the skin
I no longer feel fits me
Given no satisfaction as there’s
a barrier of numbness, like a cage wrapped around my limbs

Slowly, I can feel myself drifting off
into the nothingness I’m oh so used to
This protective shield that keeps
my gentle heart guarded

The problem with barriers is mine
has become impenetrable
I’ve become insensitive,
unresponsive
to my surroundings

The happiness I once felt is a dull sensation, if anything at all

Sinking lower,
I can feel the water rising
Oh how I wish I could lay beneath
the surface without a need for air

Although
I long to feel the water fill my lungs,
I cannot take that last breath
Instead I float in the emptiness
that’s become my mind

The dull numbness has now become
a fierce flame
Though I do not move
As my eyelids close to allow the pain
to seep through every crevice

I accept it,
No, I welcome it

For I’d rather feel pain than
the hollow sensation that’s been growing within me

The water has pooled over the edge
As my mind follows
It’s become too much,
I can no longer contain it
I watch as it spills onto the tiles
Filling the cracks with my
overflowing emotions that
I’ve bottle up for who knows how long

Again, wishing for satisfaction
that never arrives
Left longing for some sort of emotion to creep up from the darkness
But left with the disappointing
reality of nothingness

I’ve become a shell,
desperately awaiting for my mind to come home