Hag stone in hand,

You are brought into the light.

All focus was on the pair of olive green socks which hung loosely around Dr.T's ankles. He continued to jot notes as I was being interviewed.

Question.

Answer.

Scribble.

Type.

Retain eye contact, not too much eye contact. Legs crossed? Oh hell, my leg hair. Should have worn pants. Should I have? Does that matter? Wait.. what did she ask? Oh hell, awkward cry laugh. Why is this the part that makes me choke up, and what can I possibly do with that information. How much of this is really the truth, more importantly however, how much do they believe. I should have watched more Lie To Me. I'm not here to lie, it's just with these questions, honesty hurts. I think they can see that. Isn't that what they are trained to see?

Session two, socks now under the desk and out of view, at least it's a nice day out. Though I had dressed for warmer weather. Though, I'm always cold. 

Question. 

nod.

Big word, proposed plan of attack.

nod.

Type.

Traits? What do you mean personality traits? 12 months of therapy? New medication? Neglect? What do you mean high rates of suicide? No, of course, it's apparently just passive. How long? Oh, gee. Years. 

Question.

nod.

Scribble.

Type.

Come back in three weeks, we will book you for a group session
after we see how the medication is treating you.
Remember, 300mg three times a day. 

nod. 

Traits? What do you mean personality traits..

Jury is in.

Final results; Add another Monster to the roster.

Hello little one, seems you've been hiding.  Seems you've been on my shoulder, behind my neck, keeping me up at night, for longer than I could have ever guessed. You explain so much of my past while putting my future in a frenzy.

Though I'm glad that we can finally meet, I do hope cbt and dbt will help.. Fingers crossed. 

May 30th

Tuesday, 7:27am

Amongst the slugs and snails of the garden, I was led to believe the right shell would come along, sooner or later.

Make due. Said the garden.

Sooner, or, later. 

It's simple, the birds scoffed, wear a shell, that is not yours.

And until then, sit with restlessness.
Sit with, expectation.

Born a snail, reminded the ants. You must find your place.

And until then, live with heartache.

Make due. Reminded the garden.

Amongst the slugs and snails of the garden, no one told me I was a caterpillar.

That sooner or later, shell be damned;

my napping would be useful.

Amongst the slug and snails of the garden, like the flowers, I would bloom.

Keep your path, scolded the ladybugs.

That sooner, or later, felt between my morning due wings, I could reach the breeze.

And when that comes I will breathe in the spring.
Bathe in the sun, and dance with bees.

Amongst the slugs and snails of the garden, like the seasons, my time would come.

You are not othered, reassured the garden. Your path needed to be cleared by spring storms, it could not be found amongst the garden floor.

You looked up, you found more.

Now you can see with kindness.
Now you carry compassion on your wings.

Now you fly with spirit.

Amongst the slugs and snails of this plot, I needed to feel the rain.

I am proud, smiled the garden, now your dreams like my summer, have found colour.

Now your heart is free.

May 8th

Monday, 1:59am

Wonka, the chocolate river song, and kitchen floor discussions.

The many reasons I couldn't cry, and your
face in the dark.

Titled, relationship.
Subtitle, emotional shift.

The many reasons I'm so fond of running.

May 3rd

Wednesday, 9:26 am

Nothing.

Nothingness.

Empty.

Void.

Funnily enough, I though this would feel colder. More of a lukewarm, puddle on a cloudy day. Thought I knew depression. Thought I had felt the harshness, the rock bottom low, the full force.

Sharked.

Cant sleep. Not tired. Eyes are heavy, red and swollen. As if my late night was spent crying instead of mindless tasks.

I did cry. I burst into tears and went back to work. Like nothing was wrong. Hole in my chest still raw. Like nothing was wrong.

We broke up. Without saying goodbye.

Come to think of it, neither one of us are very good at goodbyes.

How can we even use the title "best friends", we've been so disant since your mum's death. You kept me at a distance. I kept you in the bubble of safe and content, because I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to be your friend. We've been so distant. Why do we keep bullshitting each other.

I'm too much to handle, I'm too different. I cause you pain.

Nothing I can do now. Nothing I could ever do.

Wrong timing. Bad communication.

I think we'd be so good for each other, if we met each other now. If I knew who I was, if you could just accept it. If I could just know how I hurt you.

I get to walk away with out saying goodbye. And that's going to be even harder than you know.

May 1st

Monday, 10:38 am

Overwhelmed with the void.

Again.

No sting.

Again.

No release.

Again. Again. Again.

I couldn't feel the pain.

Sheets stained.
Shirt stained.
Soul stained.

Long sleepless night.

April 30th

Sunday, 7:30 pm

I didn't want you to leave

Paralyzed laying next to you, my mind screaming to reach out.

Murmur,
help me.
Whisper,
I don't know if I can be alone tomorrow.
Sob,
I don't trust myself.

Paralyzing.
Pretending to sleep.

I don't want you to leave.
I've never been this scared.

Today. Death was a possibility.
I've never been this scared.

Tomorrow, the feelings of this night will be unfathomable.
Fear is now, empty.
Empty is now, nothing.

Two more months.