All stories come from stories,
Fables and tales of old,
Get twisted,
Pulled apart,
And made a new.
The art is to refurbish and tell like never before,
Leaving hints of familiarity,
Subtle enough for you to question the clarity,
Yet get you hooked,
And entertain you once more.
Words pour out of my mouth like water,
Fast and pure,
Never preplanned,
Or to mine ears been heard before,
I must have been a muted poets daughter,
Kept back by prejudice,
In a life before,
Now reincarnated I am still kept back with not much more to gain,
So much time has passed,
Yet judgement and exclusion remains the same,
My gender now not to blame,
But this time my brain,
Some lable me as insane,
Making publishing my work a gamble,
Excusing the discrimination with health and safety,
Keeps me at the back of the line,
Instead of the front where I deserve to be.
I want to open my mind,
Open and let you all in creatively,
I’ll keep you entertained with many a story,
Some real,
Some fantasy,
Some as dark as reality can be.
Yet people don’t want to take a gamble on me,
Be it the colour of my skin,
My battle scars out and showing,
My mental health diagnosis,
My fragility,
Potential crisis.
If I was a celebrity,
Publishing offers would fly to me,
Which is something I cannot fathom!?
I am no one imparticular,
Which makes me all the more spectacular,
Because I represent you all,
Anyone and everyone,
The masses.
I could be you,
Or the girl next door,
You’re daughter,
Best friend,
Or cousin.
Instead of allowing me to rise and connect with you,
You step over me,
You do not see me,
You will not listen to me,
Despite with all of my experience,
For the curious,
Those in the dark that need a guiding light,
Someone other to hold their hand,
To understand,
I am the connect to help you through.
The one without private health care like you,
The one who has to wait like you,
The one they medicate like you.
There is no personal Doctor on call,
Nowhere to just check in,
Thats the world of your celebrity.
I will not discriminate fleeting moments of ill mental health that others have indulged,
So why discriminate me.
My illness is longstanding,
I’ve been institutionalised,
Ganged up on,
I have been to Hell,
I could tell you about that,
Demons and Psychosis,
I’ve been down to the darkest place.
I’ve been up to the highest and brightest.
I’ve spoken to the people that movie characters are made from.
My eyes and ears have explored every crack and crevice of the mind and beyond.
I could tell you a tale or two,
Some you may have heard before,
Some familiar,
Some brand new,
But I refuse to speak to buttoned up ears,
Lost in translation,
Focused on fame and vaneers.
I worry I may loose,
Or confuse what has been
As my memory looses stability,
Due to medication,
And emotional sensitivity,
And so I share snippets on here,
Both to remind and for those that support me.
One day I shall tell my full story,
Awake my imagination from slumber,
Mix everything together,
And share a rainbow of novels to suit everybody,
When the world wakes up and sees my potential as an endearing literature somebody,
Fueling books,
And film.
My stories,
Honest and brave,

The upside of BPD

The correct term for the upside of BPD is called, MANIA! Wow. Talk about maximum energy, exhilarated mobility and speech. You are as high as a kite, as fast as a cheetah, thoughts rush through your brain, you feel like you are the happiest person aslive, that you have the best ideas ever and that you can do anything and everything! It comes from nowhere and when it subsides, you feel exhausted, sometimes you can be drained in sweat. You realise that so much time has gone and it is hard to remember what you have done. I’ve had the guitar out, been practicing playing, singing, cleaning the flat and who knows what else. Then snap, you come out of it and wander what on earth that was all about! It is the upside of depression, borderline euphoric but as a person with eregular emotions, you then come crashing down from one million to zero and doubt yourself, all you have done, what you have done, who you are and negativity starts feeding back into your thoughts, grinding to a hault, all super energy is lost and you feel lethargy. I have done so much, yet almost nothing at all, nothing that I was supposed to do! Excitement turns into discontentment, everything that you believed was genious then turns sour. I felt so well and now I feel so ill. If I were the sky, the sun would reflect my positivity and the rain my negativity, the rainbow is my mania and the storm is my low mood. What a distorted, unpredictable day that would be, how would you prepare for that? Wellies and flip flops, a coat and cardigan, an umbrella and a summer hat, ear muffs and shades, but there was no warning and so you are as you are, are where you are, with who you are with and you have to roll with it! Knowing what I have experienced upon reflection, is comforting, but in the midst of it, you have no idea. No idea what you are experiencing when experiencing it. It is most surreal to feel so wonderful one minute and worthless the rest. At least I have this website to reflect, share and get things off my chest. Try viewing my latest vlog, I believe I wrote that in a rather manic state but nowhere near as crazy as today’s. BPD takes good day’s and bad day’s to the extreme, it is more like good hours and bad hours but at these times, I am my most creative.