Secrets

For some background, I wrote this poem as an emotional response to the relationship abuse I’d endured for several years of my life. During those many hard and trying years, I felt trapped and I sincerely thought that I would never escape. But fortune favored me and with the help of friends and family I was able to leave those dangerous situations. And now I present to you….Secrets.

secrets

I am the fire built within
I am your rage beneath the skin
Every breath I heave
Is a song you sing in silence.
I am unknown to strange minds
I am a voice inside your own
The same desperate message
Driving on relentlessly
Until it resonates as the truth

I’ll burn the boundaries of your world
Reality is but obscurity
To which consequences fall asunder.
You exist within the inner landscapes
Entangled in my rage, my frustration and desire.
I desire to escape
Yet you question
You are the cage and I the inferno.

I want to tear your skin apart
Cut a split in your cocoon
And burn it; together
We shall harness the bomb on our fingertips
To bring down the past; together
We bare our teeth in defiance
Howling for the great darkness within
And wonder if the gods dare to listen

You want my fire to consume their hands
Even the score, erase the past…

Our secret is no longer.
.
.
.
© Siobhan Marie Hurd 2010

 

Beyond Our Control

I almost cut myself today.

It was my first day back at work after being on vacation for a whole week with boyfriend. So if you were wondering why I hadn’t posted last week that was why. Today started off alright, but then a thought crept into my head and burrowed its way into my personal knot of paranoia and anxiety. It nested there until it grew too large for me to ignore. The thought screamed at me until I paid attention to it. Within moments I broke down and acknowledged my fear, it was so loud I found it impossible not to.

That set the mood for the rest of the day, unfortunately. Have you ever felt so anxious that you couldn’t stop shaking, you can’t breath and you forget how to swallow? That was me all morning leading up to the afternoon. I ended up not eating anything other than a Special K chocolate protein shake. I still don’t feel hungry, but then again stress will do that to you.

My boyfriend is currently talking me down via text message since he lives in Maryland. I can’t imagine how he deals with me. I guess love truly does conquer all. But I can’t help but feel horribly guilty for how I feel. I don’t want to feel this way, at all. Its awful!

In other news, I keep seeing people in my room at night. They won’t let me sleep, they talk to me (asking me to play games in the middle of the night) and scare me awake (I saw a young boy with shark teeth rush my side of the bed from the corner of the closet). I don’t know what to do about this, am I going mad? I see my psychiatrist again tonight so I’m going to bring all this up to him. The paranoia, the anxiety, the depression, seeing people in my room at night, and finally the cutting. I haven’t cut myself in so very long, I am afraid to have a relapse.

This is going to be a long post tonight, and for that I somewhat apologize (unless you guys enjoy longer posts). I wrote a poem based off a dream that I had and I wanted to share it will you all. The poem is also an illustration of myself in some regards and if I remember correctly, it highlighted a separation that I experienced. I wrote this poem with heavy imagery in mind, chronicling a journey between two people through fantasy and chaos. I hope you enjoy it. It is a long poem, but worth every line.

Continue reading “Beyond Our Control”

Stop it Spell Check, Dysphoria is a Real Word.

Neo: “You ever have that feeling where you’re not sure if you’re awake or still dreaming?”

Choi: “All the time. It’s called mescaline, it’s the only way to fly.”

Have you ever had something stuck in your head on repeat? Its as if my brain is trying to tell me something. Assuming, mayhaps, that repetitive statements will embed themselves deeper into my psyche (despite my protests) OR my short term memory is broken and all I can remember are the last few points of input that bounced into my cranium like a game of Pong. Whichever one of those statements is true, I cannot relinquish myself of a specific Matrix quote (see above). Even here while I am sitting at work, I have that scene playing over and over again in my head….an insomniac Keanu Reeves, the white rabbit tattoo, the girl with the cool nose/ear combo piercing (Which I secretly really want), the gritty lighting in the apartment hallway…and then…the words.

“Not sure if you’re awake or still dreaming” “Not sure if you’re awake or still dreaming” “Not sure if you’re awake or still dreaming” “It’s the only way to fly” “Only way to fly…..only way to fly”.

For the record I’m not on any drugs and for that matter I’m not even caffeinated (an atrocity, I know, especially since I’m at work…the caffeine part, not the drugs. Obviously).

So what’s the point to all this? Probably nothing, I needed something to write about. Perhaps my subconscious wishes that I would watch The Matrix again or perhaps my mind is indeed broken. Its felt broken, all of a sudden, for a week or two.

Brace yourselves, we seem to be approaching Self Reflectionville!!

WAIT! Sorry, before we venture there I need to make a brief detour and let you all know that eating Doritos and then drinking cold Yorkshire tea makes it taste like fish. FISH. *stink eye*

As i was saying, I know for a fact that I am depressed (I’ve been diagnosed so it doesn’t come as a shock), however I have been so good at managing my emotions or lack there of, however these past two weeks threw all my determination into the dirt. Then stepped on it. With a truck. And then exploded.

You get the picture.

Nothing is very fun anymore, even writing this is a struggle. Why are words so hard? I would prefer to assault the keyboard like a monkey on crank rather then trying to be eloquent. Button smashing a symphony of savagery and raw untamed dysphoria (stop it spell check, that’s a real word). I can’t tell if I give no fucks or if I don’t care enough to give a fuck. I can’t even bring myself to drink, which used to solve these deadening numby episodes. That or marijuana, which I am sadly SADLY lacking in. That will be my next quest, the quest for the Green Leaf of Ganja. it will be epic.

All I want to do right now is play Skyrim (even though I have played the shit out of that game) and beat things to death with my sword. Yay therapy.

So in short, I am depressed and don’t give a fuck about shit anymore (or realistically, at the moment). Annnnddd…I just realized I failed to write and introductory post explaining who I am, what this blog is about, etc. SUNSHINE AND RAINBOWS AND UNICORNS WITH ICE CREAM POOP!!

Just kidding.

More or less, this is a blog about stuff that can be found in what I call “the burn book”. A dark little memoir of my life. The plan is to share EVERYTHING in the hopes of using this liberation as a method of therapy. The alternative is hiding in the bathroom with my feelings. No bueno.

Back to work.