Reluctantly Toxic Me

I feel like I am full of pollution.
I feel like I am a hazard.
I feel like coming into my space is criminal,
And stupid.
So I urge you,
In fact I warn you not to.
None of it I choose,
Being this tempestuous mess,
Reluctantly I carry this storm of a burden,
That can suck you in and spit you out,
Therefore I am a vile specimen,
I am not sure when and how it began,
Or when it will end.
I want to contribute,
I want to aid positive change,
I want to erase stigma,
I want to be good,
I want all of my hurt,
All of my pain,
To manifest into something utterly brilliant,
God like,
But I’m lurking in the shadows,
I’m not on the horizon,
And I’m not on the radar.
No one believes in me,
And I don’t believe in myself.
How come some people are just lucky and land on their feet?
It’s funny,
Some people say my spirit animal is feline,
But I’m pretty sure that I don’t have nine lives,
And if I do,
Each one of them has been pretty terrible,
Because if you think about it,
If every soul has nine lives,
Then it kind of works in circulation,
Where in some lives you will peak,
And others you will trough,
But my deja-vu’s do not suggest that I have ever peaked,
My scars,
My weighed down shoulders,
The shackles around my ankles,
And the handcuffs tightened around my wrist,
Suggest that I have suffered,
That I know pain,
But that’s what makes me a dreamer,
I dream about love,
I dream about soul mates,
I dream about creation,
I dream about a world where I am no longer a misfit,
Where I don’t fit into a category where if I was on fire,
No one would even piss on me.
I have a spark,
I have substance,
It just needs turning on,
The light went out a long time ago.
I keep etching on my bedpost,
Everytime I fuck up,
And everytime I get back up,
I am a little bit weaker,
And everytime I get back up,
I believe in myself that little bit less,
And just like if you don’t believe in fairies and clap for their lives,
If you don’t believe in me,
Then my genius I won’t realise,
And I won’t create and conquer,
Contribute what I am supposed to,
Because I am not a lone soldier,
I need an aid,
I need a crutch,
Prop me up,
Show that you care,
Hold my hand,
Show that you believe,
Give me unconditional love,
And I will produce so much magic to put out there.
If I carry on like this,
I imagine it won’t be long before I no longer exist,
The pain cuts deep,
And I feel so weak,
I am giving up,
Because I’ve had no luck,
Maybe my passion is just for me,
Like my psychosis,
Something that nobody else understands,
And or will never see,
I forgo my legacy,
For the next life,


They say,
“Here today,
Gone tomorrow”.
One should feel relieved,
To rise,
When it be ‘morrow!
Yet with every new day,
For me,
My heavy heart,
Pangs with disappointment,
And wrenching sorrow,
The cycle never ends,
Nor does it thaw out,
Become hollow,
The lacerations are internal,
The exterior,
Just a front,
A show,
A cover Up,
For just how low,
I get,
And go.

London Baby….

Seeing all of these beautiful women in their short shorts, bikini tops, tight Spanish dresses and heels makes me more self conscious then ever. When I get body envy I only want to comfort myself with more and more food, have an ice-cream, have a milk shake, drink wine and sangria, eat pizza!
I am so self conscious, I almost don’t want to go outside of the apartment at all. The weight, the scars on my body, the colour of my skin, it is not my paranoia, people are looking at me and I just want to shout, “What exactly is your problem!?” Only I already know their answer, disgust!
So back off people. There are people with worse physical appearance then I, and when I get home, I must hit the diet and exercise regime hard.
It is one thing getting looks of disgust off a stranger,they shouldn’t be so bloody nosey or shallow. I stare at the girls but conceal the envy and just try to look polite! I have a hen do and a wedding to contend with, old faces and outspoken people will be making comments, vocally, with their eyes or both. I am not sure I can handle it!
If anyone that I am bound to bump into that isn’t particularly close to me, if we haven’t stayed in touch. I am like double the size of when we last met. So deal with the shock, do a bit of bitching and please just enjoy the company when we meet. I am on a long, long, long journey of recovery and would not be going back to London as yet if it didn’t mean so much to my friends!
I take antidepressants and anti psychotic drugs every single day! Both of which have weight gain as the main side effect. I haven’t just been eating cake in Brum for the last three years. I began to loose weight and then got far to comfortable and relapsed entirely with my x, plus I was in hospital for 22days May /June and the food there is not healthy.
I hope you are all just thinking…. Get over yourself! For once, this attitude will not offend me. My future trips to London are for the grooms and bride to be, I’ll just be drinking in the corner, minding my own business. I have only wrote this post because I am self conscious enough, without extra digs or comments about my weight and health, I don’t want my low self esteem plus anxiety to result in me not showing up. I am not as independant as I once was and so will not be able to see friends and family outside of the hen and wedding. I will only return when I feel well enough mentally and confident enough physically. I just really don’t want to let my friends down! So please help me by accepting the situation, I have a huge objection to not make my situation permanent xx