Skulls and Angels

A/N: Trigger Warning-contains discussion of eating disorders and related issues. This poem is what recovery feels like to me when I'm having a hard time. This was written as a kind of catharsis for me. I have no idea why it feels easier to express these things in poetic form, but there you have it. If you have any feedback, it's highly welcome. Support is also highly appreciated. The lowercase title is because days like that are when I feel bad about myself, so they deserve lowercase letters. Illogical logic, I know, but if e.e. cummings can be quirky, why not me? So, on with the scribbles!




( This is my brain when it's been eaten by an eating disorder...or not... )

A/N: Yet another poem from the depths of my grey mood. Sorry for posting so much, but I think my reservoir of negative emotion was past being full. Hopefully the writing will help empty it somewhat.

Whirling about,
she spins like a top,
smoke rising from the friction burn
she leaves behind.

Her soul's on fire,
but the ashes are in her
eyes-how can you not see
that she's burned to death inside?

She goes along-
robotic-
automatic-
plastic-
static-
smiling mouth-
eyes that cry-

Screaming for release
from this non-life-
she bleeds through her
black shirts.

You pat her head-
you pray-
"Thank God she's safe."
There is no protection
from herself.

Today was a day I was down. No real discernible reason, honestly. Just plain old lonesomeness eating at me. I miss my friends. They are more like family than my blood relatives sometimes, but we haven't talked much lately. I miss the feeling that people want me around. With my family, most often I feel as if I'm a huge burden to them. That's the good thing about friends. There is no reason they have to be around you, so when they are, you know they care.

I'm feeling hopeless today, as if there is no real purpose for me being on earth. Logic and my family tells me this is not so, but what they say and what I see are two different things. What on earth am I needed for? It feels like nothing. I'm sorry to be such a downer. I truly don't mean to come across as negative, but I can't help feeling this way.

I've been thinking, and the one thing I really want to be is independent. I want to be capable, and to feel capable, but I can't do that in my family. It's a complicated situation , but for all intents and purposes, I'm trapped in it, and it stinks.

I have talked to my family about this until I'm blue in face, but they've all said there is nothing they can do to change it. It's hard having a family that loves you so much it's detrimental to your mental well-being, but what's worse is when they care for you so much that you no longer trust yourself to make the right decisions. I have no trust in my own judgement, and that makes me feel incredibly  broken, defective and dejected. I've tried every way I know to tell them this, but nothing ever changes. I feel as if I may as well still be in diapers with the way I'm treated. Sadly, that's truly not too much of an exaggeration. Frustration doesn't begin to describe what I feel. More like desperation, actually.

Anyway, on that rather disturbing insight into my life, I'll close. Lord knows I feel pathetic enough already. Good night, all. May your dreams and your days be pleasant ones always.

I'm not really sure of anything at all anymore. Things have flipped upside down since my father passed away. I feel numb, blank and just strange. I've cried a few times. I just don't know anymore. Nothing is normal, and yet, everything is so much the same. I can't find words to express everything I'm feeling. People have been very good and supportive. They always offer to listen if I need to talk. The problem is, I have no clue what to say or do. I can't talk about this. It's not that I don't want to. I just...can't. 

It's like there's a big empty place inside where my dad used to be. Nothing feels right anymore. 

I feel like a rat trapped on a hamster wheel that keeps revolving when all I want to do is climb off it. That's my life lately, and I feel like screaming till my throat bleeds.  Sigh. Looks like it's time for a nap or some more yoga. Or a nap. Yep-nap wins. Hands down. See ya later, lj and lj friends. Here's hoping that you all have fabulous days filled with whatever you most desire. I'm going to go drool into my pillow now. Brightest blessings to you all.

A/N: Please forgive this. I just got some bad news today, and this decided to spawn itself. It's not a happy story, so don't say I didn't warn you. Might trigger, so be safe, please. No one is dead in RL, but this was apparently lurking in my brain, and some of it is based on my life. Make of that what you will, and please feel free to share what you think. Feedback and support would be very appreciated right now.

Play me a sweet song. It's one that I heard a long time ago. I can only half remember the melody, and it haunts my dreams like a long-forgotten ghost whose presence lingers on the earth long after his body has ceased to be even ash. His pain is the only impression now, so sad. Did some loving daughter call him father? Did he whisper his 'I-love yous' as she dreamed, while the scent of whiskey hung heavy on his breath? He wanted to avoid the pain in her eyes.

She had once idolized him. Now, that was no more, and it pained him. He had tried again to apologize, but failed. It fell against her skin like broken glass, wounding her. The 'sorry' was too overused, like the greasy rags in his shop. He planted wet, alcohol scented kisses on her head, and she wanted to flinch away. She stayed, though. That was the only time he ever kissed her at all, and she was grateful for that, even when the smell of bourbon made her light-headed. The kisses were sloppy, half-landed things that she wanted to bask in. She wanted to be simply another little girl whose daddy would kiss her goodnight. He pulled away to take another drink. She cried.

He would destroy himself, and it would happen before her eyes. He didn't want to hurt her, he was simply caught up in a storm of his own creation. He wanted to be so much dust in the cyclone, just blown about by the wind. Instead he was the storm, burning himself out to end the pain she was too young and ignorant to share, and so he blew himself out like a candle while she stood on the horizon, clutching her arms toward herself in a pseudo-hug, wishing he was there to hold her, still. He used to make he feel safe.  Now, she stands alone, feeling broken, and follows his memory into the darkness of his pain.

It is over quickly. She barely noticed the blade, feeling instead the relief that came with not being. She had only tried to be good. But, she was never enough. Never right. Now there are two ghosts, mere shades, gliding through the night with sad eyes.

I'm going grocery shopping on Saturday. This excites me. How sad is that? I've seen Deathly Hallows twice since it came out, and been to Thanksgiving with the relatives. I shouldn't need to get out again so soon after all that, but I really do. Dad has been home sick so much with pneumonia. I'm still worried about his health, and his job , mainly because of how much he's been out. But having him here is driving me batty and bonkers and bananas and goodness knows what else.

It isn't that he invades my space. He doesn't. He is just ALWAYS here. I hate that that bothers me, but it does. So yes, I am very excited about getting out to go shop for my own groceries. I'll probably shop for Christmas too, which means I may come back skint, but hopefully my sanity will at least remain intact for a little while longer. Let's hope.

Can you feel my heart breaking?
My eyes are blank.
Loneliness gnaws at my soul.

Numb to the point of pain,
the razor resting
against my skin
slides softly.

Metallic silver
gleams with the promise
of Relief.

My blood runs down
arms that tremble.
It is warm
and sacred-and
Alive.

I wish I know how to say what I want to say. I hate being alone. I wish that someone was there to ask if I am ok and mean it. Most days lately, I want to die. Not really though. I don't have the guts for suicide. Sometimes I wonder if my family would care. But, I can't do that to them either way. Ugghh.