mentally f***ed up

I can’t seem to shake away the shingles of anguish that came with the crushing blow that was my birthday. Letting anything and everything sink me down further. Feeling so alone and ever so out of place. Confused and just so unsure. Unsure about everything and anything; this and that. Immersed with the kaleidoscope of my life. It’s colorful patterns representing the miss-mash that is me. A vibrancy and a beauty, intriguing and enchanting but a chaotic mess, completely out of order and for what feels like an endless game. And of course, being at home hasn’t helped. That birthday magic, like the tale of Cinderella and her glass slipper, wore away at midnight with my mother back to her old tricks, letting her uneducated frustrations with me out in full swing.

Throwing those misguided punches blindly into the air, unaware that her seemingly harmless clips strike me hard and sharp, like a TKO. I guess that wish for happiness and those surprisingly kind words that I found in my birthday card also faded once the clock chimed twelve.

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Image via Tumblr

It’s all just a cruel blur – most times anyway. Watching from another perspective; like a knowing bystander. Seeing this being walking about listlessly, head down, eyes fixed and focused on the hard surface her blistered feet tread upon. Limping along with her broken wings and like a bleary eyed fool. So obviously out of place. You can see the strain that’s painted on her face and carried on her frail shoulders. Tear stained cheeks on swollen white skin and eyes soaked with a watery dysphoria.

Such emptiness and sadness lies behind those pupils. What once contained morsels of hope in that ombre of greens is now lifeless; void of the little hope that once was. Beaten away and finally exterminated by those who know no better.

I don’t really know where I am now. If I am still hanging precariously onto that cliff’s edge by my fingertips or if I’ve finally plummeted. Maybe I am already in a state of free-falling, only becoming aware as gravity decides my fate. Or perhaps I’d truly hit that ground, another impossible new low and had the wind knocked square out of my poor little lungs. Then again maybe I’ve been laying here on this uncomfortable ground for sometime now. Concust, numb and paralyzed.

I guess being at what I believed to be my lowest ebb for so long now means that nothing truly makes anymore sense once you dip lower. If that were even possible. I can’t see or feel a thing and nothing looks or feels any different. Just heightened by the spotlight of my grief. No longer able to look the other away.

Maybe something from within has finally snapped and just shut up shop. Closed itself off to this imperfect world, abandoning and conceding it’s recluse status and making a beeline for those mysterious woods out there in the misty distance.

Never to return.

But then, who really knows?

xxx

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