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Literature Text
I bleed fear
and breathe paralysis
Every day
drug myself into sanity
and drip with the rain
every drop a thought
falling out of my soul
and tripping out of my brain.
I crawl screaming and sobbing
to the phone
and listen for hours to
the white noise of
the static dial tone.
My fingers shake
as I call
a helpline
the crisis hotline
emergency
suicide prevention
child youth mental health team.
The receptionist
is new.
she doesn't know
my voice.
she doesn't know
my face.
she doesn't know
my name.
I don't have a
name
I don't have a
face.
My therapist isn't here today.
"Sorry. Would you like to leave a
message?"
I hang up
and scream
bite my hands
until they bleed
and bang my head against the floor
again and again
and again.
I dial the number
again.
Ask for the psychiatrist
that saw me at the hospital.
He's on break.
He'll be coming back
in an hour.
there's no time.
I'll be dead by then.
anyone.
I need to talk to someone.
The receptionist
is new.
She doesn't tell me
to hold on,
she doesn't keep telling me
that I'll be ok,
that someone's coming
(like the last one did.
the one who says
hello
every time
I come in)
she puts me on hold.
The sweet up-beat tunes
contrast horribly
with the horror I'm in.
It twists my soul.
on hold
HOLD ON.
I don't know who I'm talking to now.
I don't know her face.
Her voice is so
calm.
Her name is Narelle.
she asks me if
I'm hearing voices.
If I've done the
emergency steps.
If I'm alone
and I am.
She says
"When are your parents
coming home?"
Late.
they'll be too
late.
She asks me if
I've felt like this before.
If sounds and voices are something
new.
The receptionist is new.
this isn't new
for me.
She says she has my psychiatric file
and she'll call L.
she asks when my next
appointment is.
It's next week
next week
and I'm not going to make it.
help me.
I'm hyperventilating
and she teaches me to breathe.
In out
count with me,
breathe.
In out
count with me,
breathe.
I can't see.
I can't see.
please.
In out
count with me,
breathe.
Stay on the phone.
Keep talking to me.
You're breathing too fast.
How is your sleep?
Broken.
Just like
me.
We're going to restart
my medication.
but just not yet
not yet
because of the O.D.
How much
does sanity cost?
tell me
tell me
It's 27.50 for a
month.
Emergency steps.
I wrote ugly words
on myself in ink.
I tore paper
so I wouldn't
tear myself.
I lay on the floor
of the shower
staring at the bath
where I attempted suicide.
Letting the water
freeze me to the floor
while a shadow stands outside.
I count pills
and shards of glass
lay them out
and start
again
again
again
I crawl to the kitchen
and pick up the phone.
We talk again.
While something
talks in my head
and taps the floor.
There's someone in my house.
Narelle says
they're not in my house;
they're in my
head.
But I can feel them
creeping around
feet whisper-quiet
on the floor.
It's singing softly now.
a toneless voice
dripping menance.
I say that I can hear someone
singing to me.
She smiles down the phone
and says that singing isn't dangerous.
"There's nothing to be afraid of."
It's singing
that it's coming to get me.
I
Can't
Breathe.
and breathe paralysis
Every day
drug myself into sanity
and drip with the rain
every drop a thought
falling out of my soul
and tripping out of my brain.
I crawl screaming and sobbing
to the phone
and listen for hours to
the white noise of
the static dial tone.
My fingers shake
as I call
a helpline
the crisis hotline
emergency
suicide prevention
child youth mental health team.
The receptionist
is new.
she doesn't know
my voice.
she doesn't know
my face.
she doesn't know
my name.
I don't have a
name
I don't have a
face.
My therapist isn't here today.
"Sorry. Would you like to leave a
message?"
I hang up
and scream
bite my hands
until they bleed
and bang my head against the floor
again and again
and again.
I dial the number
again.
Ask for the psychiatrist
that saw me at the hospital.
He's on break.
He'll be coming back
in an hour.
there's no time.
I'll be dead by then.
anyone.
I need to talk to someone.
The receptionist
is new.
She doesn't tell me
to hold on,
she doesn't keep telling me
that I'll be ok,
that someone's coming
(like the last one did.
the one who says
hello
every time
I come in)
she puts me on hold.
The sweet up-beat tunes
contrast horribly
with the horror I'm in.
It twists my soul.
on hold
HOLD ON.
I don't know who I'm talking to now.
I don't know her face.
Her voice is so
calm.
Her name is Narelle.
she asks me if
I'm hearing voices.
If I've done the
emergency steps.
If I'm alone
and I am.
She says
"When are your parents
coming home?"
Late.
they'll be too
late.
She asks me if
I've felt like this before.
If sounds and voices are something
new.
The receptionist is new.
this isn't new
for me.
She says she has my psychiatric file
and she'll call L.
she asks when my next
appointment is.
It's next week
next week
and I'm not going to make it.
help me.
I'm hyperventilating
and she teaches me to breathe.
In out
count with me,
breathe.
In out
count with me,
breathe.
I can't see.
I can't see.
please.
In out
count with me,
breathe.
Stay on the phone.
Keep talking to me.
You're breathing too fast.
How is your sleep?
Broken.
Just like
me.
We're going to restart
my medication.
but just not yet
not yet
because of the O.D.
How much
does sanity cost?
tell me
tell me
It's 27.50 for a
month.
Emergency steps.
I wrote ugly words
on myself in ink.
I tore paper
so I wouldn't
tear myself.
I lay on the floor
of the shower
staring at the bath
where I attempted suicide.
Letting the water
freeze me to the floor
while a shadow stands outside.
I count pills
and shards of glass
lay them out
and start
again
again
again
I crawl to the kitchen
and pick up the phone.
We talk again.
While something
talks in my head
and taps the floor.
There's someone in my house.
Narelle says
they're not in my house;
they're in my
head.
But I can feel them
creeping around
feet whisper-quiet
on the floor.
It's singing softly now.
a toneless voice
dripping menance.
I say that I can hear someone
singing to me.
She smiles down the phone
and says that singing isn't dangerous.
"There's nothing to be afraid of."
It's singing
that it's coming to get me.
I
Can't
Breathe.
Juxtapositions Tier
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$3/month
Literature
Gender Identity Disorder
You've seemed to notice my sudden depression
Have you asked me anything about it?
To you it's teenage hormones
Oh, have we even talked about it?
Could it be something more?
Why cant we have a discussion?
I've got a little secret,
Hiding deep inside of me
I'm not just your daughter
I'm not really just a girl
You could say, I'm a bit of a boy
Gender Identity Disorder
There have been so many signs
I'm trying to change, for the better
It'd finally make me happy
Sure, I have other problems too
This one really needs to be addressed
Can't we come to terms?
There are parts of me you wouldn't understand
Maybe you just aren't very open min
Literature
they who whisper
They come to me, mostly at night
Gifted is what they call me, I have sight
Though it's forbidden for me to tell anyone else
Or people might lock me up, leave met to die
They'll think I'm crazy all thoughI can't see why
They come to me, mostly at night
They whisper into my ear, secrets that give fright
Sometimes they have conversations with one another
Sometimes they come to me alone
They tell me things that scare me
Things I rather wouldn't know
They come to me, mostly at night
I don't see them but feel their ice cold sigh
They chuckle, entertaining themselves with my cries
I scream and scream into my pillow
Leave me alone, why
Literature
I will Transform
I have a confession
A secret
Of sorts
It's not a joke
A phase
Or a hope
I had a scared thought
So long ago now
Judgment and fear
It intrigued me
On new levels
Of sensation and change
I feel as though I am trapped
Perhaps here
Or perhaps in life
I want to admit now
That I am changing
To better my survival
My body may be foreign
With these God-awful breasts and hips
But I can transform
That's what I do
I have a confession
A secret
Of sorts
I am a human
Perhaps you can't see
But I promise you'll find I don't lie
Gender is beneath me
I want to be free
I will transform
Just wait and you'll see.
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I'm in trouble. The voices and are coming thick and fast
and this one was different.
I can't leave the house.
I've had two major episodes this month, constant voices and panic attacks daily.
next week next week
I think I've been tattooing "hold on" into my brain.
...
I read this again today, the 5th of Nov, 2010. This was before my diagnosis of Schizoaffective Disorder (bipolar type).
I didn't yet know how to manage psychosis, or what to do when your reality becomes distorted. I was desperate for anyone to understand, and thankfully found the strength to hold on until a therapist talked to me, rather than taking my life.
I am so much better at managing my illness now. Reading back over this showed me how far I've come. For others battling mental illness, psychosis and panic; have hope. It will get better, it will get easier to understand and manage it. Your life can continue, have strength, and ask for help
and this one was different.
I can't leave the house.
I've had two major episodes this month, constant voices and panic attacks daily.
next week next week
I think I've been tattooing "hold on" into my brain.
...
I read this again today, the 5th of Nov, 2010. This was before my diagnosis of Schizoaffective Disorder (bipolar type).
I didn't yet know how to manage psychosis, or what to do when your reality becomes distorted. I was desperate for anyone to understand, and thankfully found the strength to hold on until a therapist talked to me, rather than taking my life.
I am so much better at managing my illness now. Reading back over this showed me how far I've come. For others battling mental illness, psychosis and panic; have hope. It will get better, it will get easier to understand and manage it. Your life can continue, have strength, and ask for help
© 2009 - 2024 Rosary0fSighs
Comments29
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Whoa, this is intense. I really like it.