A Diary From Noone

She spoke but no one heard, every scream seemed a whisper, and so she took pen to paper...

Tag: #connection

Broken Heart

I think the reason why I blog, write poetry, spoken word, music and reach out to people on social media is because I genuinely don’t want people to feel the pain that I do. I reach out to anyone and everyone because I feel like I have lost the contact and love from important people in my life and I try to fill that void by helping others. A heavy heart and tangled brain is a burden that often leads to isolation and fatality. A problem halved is a problem shared, because you need more than one hose to put out a fire.
I have lost friends, partners and family because I suffer from mental illness, BPD and all that sails in her. I have lost a huge part of myself, my dreams, my confidence, reputation because after being constantly bullied, denied/abandoned/banished by my biological father, excluded from family holidays and reunions and you can only pick yourself up and dust yourself off so many times. I can see a world without me in it, way more clearly than I can see a future for myself. I want my own family and their only burden would be to be smothered by my love and baffled by my pride, my husband and children would never doubt my love for them for as long as I live.
When you stop going out and attending social events/family occasions, inevitably the invites stop coming in, so do the phonecalls texts and all communication.
The only comments I receive are about my weight gain, belittling or denying my illness, I receive no love off the people that once gave me so much. Do I embarrass them? Offend them? Do they honestly think self harm and suicidal behaviour is something that I am proud of, that I take pleasure in?
When you come from a working class background and you don’t get private health care, even the professionals abandon you and let you down. I had a mini breakdown last year, because of the disgraceful way that I was treated in hospital.
A family member has said to me, “If you are going to kill yourself, just get on with it and do it!” I tried by the way. At least I know where I stand with that individual.
Life carries on. I think people loose patience with people like myself. The survivors have a strong network of support. So many others leave this world because fighting depression/anxiety/psychosis is like fighting an army and no human is strong enough to combat an entire battle alone. Not even fictional characters like Arya Stark from Game of Thrones! Even her badass needed much help.
I apologise to all whom I have hurt/disappointed/upset since my breakdown 2013. I need you to know (even if you do not understand) I am ill. Would you be able to resent someone with epilepsy? Sounds a bit silly and I am not literally comparing, but sickness is sickness.
I used to reach out alot more before than I do now, because I know that there isn’t really enough help, love and support out there for me from the people that I want and need. I got so confused, at one point I was even reaching out to people from my past, whom were left in my past for a reason, sorry! Desperation is a poorly lit torch. I now understand your side steps.
I don’t need to be ignored, excluded resented by my closest/oldest (long standing) /bestest and feel that I both have been and am being.
I feel like a spare part.
I feel so tired of fighting alone.
I feel like trouble and woes just keep falling upon my shoulders.
I cannot really help myself anymore, I try my hardest to be independent and self sufficient but my demons are often all consuming. I take my medication, accept professional help but it feels like prolonging the inevitable.
Friends come and go in life but best friends should stick around through ups and downs forever.
Partners come and go in life but should I loose my current one I really will explode.
Love is so important and we understand that it should be unconditional, but more often than not, it proves not to be.
Family are your family, blood is an undeniable bond but I don’t expect my third cousin in timbuktu to be there for me, yet I do get disappointed by my immediate family not.
Age is just a number when it comes to dealing with the emotional turmoil that I do, I still need a phone call, an I LOVE YOU, a cuddle, to be held and included. I hate confrontation and so I don’t scream & shout about all this but we all know.
I think people get tired of people like me, I just want those people to know that I do not choose to be this way. I don’t want you to have to tolerate me, feel obliged to be there for me, so I silently let you ditch me but it does upset me and doesn’t help me stay on top of recovery. I have tried to communicate and hint but you are all putting a wedge between us, just please hold on until I am secure with my special someone, I won’t survive on my one.
To my blog readers I am No One, a someone representing everyone and no one in particular, but to a few I should be a special someone, and all this someone wants is to feel loved and secure to fuel the fight and sun away those dark clouds.
So never feel a burden by messaging me guys, together we can silence those terror crys.

I Know

I whisper,

But my message is strong,

From witness,

And endurance,

From my sole,

I sing our song.

I step forward,

To escape where I am coming from,

But overcome with stillness,

I cannot transit in the right direction.

Shattered glass,

That stranger is not my reflection,

Not even a resemblance,

My cocoon now a burden,

Heavy,

Fragile,

And old,

I cannot manoeuvre this creature that is apparently I,

And even get out of bed.

I feel alone in a room full of people,

I once bloomed under the spotlights,

And waltzed around the room,

Charming,

And delightful,

But this spiteful cognitive impediment,

Grows by the day,

All consuming,

Leaving me changed,

My old self defied the law of gravity,

Evaporation seemingly permanent,

Just drifted away one day,

But my soul,

Thoughts,

Emotions,

Still weigh heavily,

Anchored.

My intentions to comfort others,

Rather than seek Solace,

Are a selfless and natural act.

Retribution from a past life perhaps,

Have lead me down this long and winding path.

I know pain,

I know anxiety,

I know depression,

I know psychosis,

I know dissociation,

I know BPD,

I know ADHD,

I know.

If the endurance of this suffering has one silver lining,

It means that I can hear you without judgement,

I offer you my hand,

You can lean on my shoulder,

And together we can soldier you through to the next chapter.

I must physically let you go at this stage,

Let you take flight,

To help yourself and others fight,

But will think of you always,

As what we share,

Enables a deep connection,

A bond that cannot be broken,

Makes us one,

Benjamin Cre Cre…

If I had a brother,
He would be none other,
Then the spitting image of you.
The things you do,
The things you say,
The way you are,
Is nothing but true.
You have the kindest of hearts,
Wise,
Talented,
Intuitive,
Spiritual,
And wholesome,
The sweetest of souls,
I could eat you whole,
My supportive friend,
I thank my lucky stars that you stumbled into my life,
At a time when we were both vulnerable,
We found one another,
Music brought us together,
We made a bond so unexpected,
So strong,
Two years later,
We are still bumbling on,
We will never part,
No matter what,
Our mutual connection through art,
Will never cease or die,
Until the bitter end,
I thank my lucky stars,
Because you are a true,
True,
Best friend.

My First Love…

My first love,
He was a millionaire,
These aren’t lies that I breath into the air,
What?
You don’t believe me?
It’s true!
And he was white too!
The love that we shared was real and true.
Against all odd’s,
We found each other,
We were young,
But we loved one another.
I,
The black girl,
From a council house,
With a young single mother,
Had unintentionally found someone quite opposite,
To be my lover.
We met in 2000,
The millennium.
Star crossed lovers,
From two very different houses,
Feeling all grown up,
In college now,
Ditched those school blouses,
A levels,
Studying English language,
Paying less attention to the teacher’s quotes,
Sending each other love notes,
Classic,
We slowly progressed from notes to texts,
At that time,
It wasn’t all about the internet,
Strangers,
Then lovers,
It was official,
Two had become one,
Inseparable,
Dependable,
Unbreakable,
Until,
We did,
Break!
Five years later,
Now adults,
Not teenagers,
we separated,
And spread our wings.
This boy,
This millionaire,
This millionaire white boy,
He loved me,
This girl,
This working class,
This working classed black girl,
I loved him.
Little did we realise,
How special this was,
Because it was so easy.
Now I get barely any attention,
And if I do,
It is so sleazy.
Most people peak at the end,
But I did at the start,
No one since,
Has truly had my heart,
But others have had his,
And so we remain apart.
Class,
Money,
Heritage,
Ethnicity,
Was irrelevant to us you see,
It wasn’t about colour,
Or money,
Our net worth,
Was our love,
That was our identity,
And yet no longer in contact,
I will always think of him fondly,
Because he accepted me,
All of me,
Embraced,
And loved me,
We needed nothing but each others company.
My first love,
Was just a boy,
And I was just a girl.

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