Am I?

Am I awake, or am I asleep

Lost in a dream, floating within

Whispers from all around

Telling me it’s time to wake up

Is that voice real or just an illusion

Am I really in a dream, asleep

Or am I awake where reality doesn’t exist

Am I dead, or am I alive

Am I still breathing

Seeing the body, but there’s no soul

Is this my voice, or just an echo I hear

I don’t know what’s real, what’s not

I don’t know where I am

I don’t know if I am

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Is It True?

I have been in a relatively good mood today. Nothing special happened, I was just at peace.

But right now I’m not doing so well. Right now I feel as though I was hit by a truck carrying huge stone pillars, and I’m lying in the road, unable to move.

A few hours ago, I randomly (friend of a friend of a friend, I can’t remember) came across one of the guys who had taken something very valuable away from me, and suddenly I had a way to contact him. When I saw his picture, I froze, and it felt as though all the blood had drained from my body. Then I had the sensation of things crawling all over me. But within a few seconds, I just went numb.

I’ve been wanting to write a letter to this particular guy for years now, but never had a way to get into contact. And I also wasn’t sure whether I really wanted to send him one. So tonight, I wrote that letter, while feeling unreal, as though I just didn’t exist. Someone else was writing. The world seemed to move in slow motion.

But I couldn’t send it. I was terrified. And then, suddenly nothing felt real. All my memories of everything that ever happened, not just this event, didn’t feel real. I felt, and still feel so confused. What if this never really happened? That nothing that happened in my life, happened? What if my mind had created this elaborate set of memories that I have carried with me all these years, but they weren’t true? That all the ‘memories’ that I felt, and feel, emotionally and physically aren’t really there? I don’t know what to believe anymore. I feel lost, and like I don’t even know where I am right now.

I don’t want to bring it up in therapy, because I’ve spent a few sessions already on what this guy did to me and how it’s affected, and still is, affecting me. I don’t want to rehash it all the damn time. A part of me also feels ashamed to keep bringing it up. Like I don’t have the right to.

I haven’t had any episodes of suicidal ideation for more than a month now (which was a welcome change), but right now, tonight, it’s back. I’m hoping that by writing this, I’ll get out of this mindset.

I’m doubting myself. And right now it hurts. It all hurts so damn much.

Dream: The Room Under The Stairs

It was dark. Quiet. So dark that I couldn’t see my hands in front of my face. The only sound piercing the silence, was the rhythmic breathing of someone sleeping nearby. Confused and disoriented, I tried to remember where I was, and why.

Suddenly the door opened, and light illuminated the room. It was a tiny space, and I knew it was under the stairs. The silhouette of someone looming in the doorway, confused me even more. Who was he? He came into focus then, and I could see he was a doctor, with the usual white scrubs. He told me to come with him, and that it was my daily break from the room. I got up, and saw the sleeping figure next to me. It was Jasmine. That would be the last time I’d see her in the dream. I walked outside into a long, white corridor, that seemed to stretch for miles in both directions. I followed the doctor, and suddenly he started fading. I could see straight through him, until he disappeared completely. I was left standing in the hallway of the hospital, blinking in the bright light. All around me I could see people talking, laughing and hugging one another. But I couldn’t make out what they were saying. They seemed a world away. I was experiencing derealization in the dream itself.

A voice from behind me shook me back into the here and now. I spun around, my heart racing, my eyes struggling to bring the person into focus. It was the doctor again. He told me it’s time to go back. That my time was over. I begged him to give me my phone, but he wouldn’t listen. The more I begged and pleaded, the angrier he got. He dragged me to the door of the room, and shoved me inside. I hit my head on the ceiling, collapsing onto the bed. The door closed, and everything went dark again. The feeling of being trapped overwhelmed me, and I was struggling to breath. And this time I was alone…

In the room under the stairs.

Stranger In This World

This is something I wrote on the 15th March 2016, and stumbled upon today. It applies just as much now as it did back then.

Where do I belong?

Why do I have this constant yearning to be anywhere but here?

People call places home. I haven’t yet found my own. Does that place even exist? Or is there a deep internal resistance to anywhere I find myself? A subconscious element I don’t have access to?

Staring out the window. The moonlight casts slivers of light through the dark trees beyond. It looks different today. Is home perhaps somewhere out there?

And sometimes I wonder…
Do I even exist in this world?

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Video: The Letter

I was inspired to make a video, thanks to my lovely friend, Summer (check out her blog here) who has made quite a few of her own already.

This is my first video, so it’s not perfect. But it’s good enough. Something I’m learning to be comfortable with, as I’m an extreme perfectionist.

I’m been really depressed and drained today. So this video is as much for me as it is for you.

I hope it can bring you some comfort today.