I can’t get none.

‘You are strong.’

Vexed, pathetic. infallible diatribe.

Ghoulish enterprise.. hiding my true desire.

This is the big moment – I bare my scant soul.

The thoughts that I hide away from all those I seek to protect from a scalding.

Never did I ever want this blog or these posts to come from  an abyss of such desperation,such hopelessness, from a place of I want to  let go.

I haven’t got the courage to do it yet. I really am not feeling this life flow.

Put me in a hospital and I might as well be the living dead  – what is the difference if you visit me in a bed or room or a graveyard ?

It’s not all my head. I can’t just say  to myself

” hey,  I’ll be back in two minutes.”

I can’t step out of my mind or body for a break from  my twisted doused thoughts and emotions. That rise and scratch around me like I am perishing in  the desert.  the fittest  caught  a whiff that someone was ready to let go.

Dare I even cower?  Try and protect myself from the sharp beaks, the canine teeth.

Is it going to feel  any worse than what is going in in my own body and mind?

I can’t hide.

I have yet to decide on a method.

I’m not going back to my vices.

I haven’t built up the courage yet to actually form a plan to hang myself.

I can’t get a gun and I literally  don’t have the balls to blow my head in.

I thought about looking up a drug dealer . Researching how much  heroin I need to inject to kill myself. I’ve never done heroin.

Maybe it would work.

If I had leukemia and asked you to help me end it all now – would you collude with me? Take out your swiss army knife, sharpen it and slit my throat – leave me grinning like a Cheshire cat,from ear to ear?

Whiskers -beaten eggs –  stuffed devil eggs. Paprika -food .

 Mood and food – you have  to get the balance right – or else .. well, you may end up like me. tee hee!

Gaga? Maybe I was born this way, environment, on medication from a young age, drugs, I don’t know, I’m  tired of labels.

I’m sick of myself. I make myself sick – I am a heretic.

Hectic shit.

Mother ?

what kind of mother am I?

Wife?

I’m not meant for this world.

I  never  have been.

Summon up some courage woman!

Don’t stomp  the pity cry –  just do it!

Branded.

Stop drawing it out like I’m drawing on a hookah and curling out long spirals of smoke.

Satisfaction- this stone sure  ain’t rolling  . I can’t get none of that.

I’m writing scripts. I’ve got my ideas down .

Reading,

writing ,

thinking.

Is it actually all going down.

I’m aware of my physical body. I eat and I loathe – god I wish I drove.

A hot stove – delirious – the crumpets , they trumpet.

Who fries crumpets?

A sandwich short of a picnic.

Doolally .Define that in a way that it makes me feel less of a  crazed , social outcast, a whore at the end of the line on Brand alley.

Losing the plot. Did she have one, to begin with ?

People are fighting Cancer and working a nine to five job  at the same time.

She parades around mouthing off all she is doing. She’s not lying. She is lying down now because  she took on too much .

Too much?

what is too much ?

Comparisons are they good enough?

We are told not to compare ourselves to others but I can only sense that what I define as success is something that I am yet to even address – I must confess.  aw, bless !

I hate it people say that  to me.

“Aww bless ya .” 

Demeaning, scheming. Raging against societies screaming fan club, teething.

Don’t make me be like you. I don’t want to. I want me back . I want my sense of self and my peace of mind.

I stumbled back a thousand miles — all down hill – Throw me a boulder so I can carry on running up the hill and then lose it at the top – groundhog day. Greek myth .

Sift . Sifting.

Plans of my own suicide- well thoughts —  who’s on board ?

Shaking my head at what I profess to do or want.

Selfish shellfish.

Man up . woman up .

I don’t know if I know how to anymore.

I lost the Swedish translated directions. Granted they were confusing to assemble, to begin with . I’ve lost the paper.

Now I just type and think…… Surrender.

No!

Hyde ?  you can’t expect me to just roll over and give up  and deny my true hearts side.

Nonsense – sprayed about in bad fashion  like a  novice graffiti artist –  Nobody or  indeed somebody would want that tag on their C.V. guide.

By being an open book ,in my ques,t to reduce the stigma against mental health .I think I have made myself wholly vulnerable and people seem to admire me from afar – I’ve  set some kind  of bar.

Maybe my own prison . 😀

What a star ! As long as I am unreachable – then people don’t have to converse with me.

Self-pity – feeling pretty shitty. if this makes the publish line. I dunno ,man ……

You may just find me in the Cape, working the vineyards, squeezing grapes to make into wine.

Connoisseur tasting – chicken basting.

Stuffing , innards- That is what I look inside. No, it ain’t tasty -far from it .

Thoughts can get loud. I don’t hear them – it might be fun if I actually did hear them.

I hope I’d get a few characters or a  caricature with infectious accents, just so I could copy them or mock them  or do both.

Entertainment . Call me a cheap thrill seeker.

Laughter. You got.me. Bottle it up and I’m anybody’s.

“Sell yourself short , you do , do you know that?”

That why I stopped smoking cigs.  Stunted my growth – vaping is far better. I’ve brought into the latest tobacco industry goldmine.

Money never has a lasting effect on my happiness. I swear I can go and buy 1000’s of  items and I won’t bother to look at them.

What about them wellness tools, you know the WRAP and all that?

Well, thing is .. I think I am further down the line. Early warning signs alert .

If I confess – I’m possibly standing in the crisis line -clinging on to freedom – an abstract  notion.

My albatross – my greatest loss.

Get it out. Get it out. Get it out.

Talk, type, distract yourself. Do some mindfulness – yeah cos  it is working – can’t you tell ?

I am the epitome  of the fully functioning member of society.

We all have our shit, don’t we?

I know exactly how lucky I am – still, my mind is rather damned.

Accosted , snow frost, molested then for obvious reasons detested.

I don’t know what to type anymore. Do I upload what I started doing for my MA?

I got ideas , I’m not stupid. I wish I was. It would make this easier .

Do I want to die?

All these emotions and self-pity make me angry and I can’t even cry.

like sob – real sloppy bucketfuls – enough for Bozo the clown to dive into and get his big flapping feet wet.

That’s one hell of a debt I’m signing up to.

Opt in , opt out.

Peer support – one to one scout -doubt -shout – rhyming until I am caught out.

Bramble bushes – poison ivy.

Shiver a bit for the decline of her Daisy willows liberty.

1218

Words.

Are words just that?

My mind is in a long tall hat. Mercury poisoned – Boomed  off to wonderland.

I don’t want to go there. It’s not cool , fun or even fair.

Merry go round – a wee bit of sherry for anyone who is still around?

Ashamed.

Maimed.

I’m the beaker of light. I am the one who makes everyone feel better.

IMAGINE what you all must think to receive this as a letter?

Just one of those days when my fears caught up with me -,overwhelmed me, jabbed sticks at me – tell me I can’t .

I’m a Mexican, not a mexi-can’t.

if I can actually bring a daft, cliched, joke into this post then surely I   have got it made and just got laid ( don’t judge me or do)

or if indeed I have made my bed and now need to lie in it.

1359 words count.

Who has time read this?

I’m going to end this with a quote from my daughter.

“Mom , Mom – guess what ? I swallowed a carrot” 

Fucking brilliant. My child is eating her veg.

Eh, whats up doc? I’m starting to feel a bit more hopeful – She  keeps me dangling.

*inspired by fear,emotions, comparing myself to others successes, my MA , my new job, life*

About Daisy Willows

'Words are my everything' - Jon Wayne . A writer of poetry, stories, stage scripts, fiction, border line poetry & freestyle works, Music reviews, Guest Features/interview & shout outs. She is also passionate about raising anti-stigma & awareness for Mental Health. A trained co-facilitator in Wellness Recovery Action plan by Mary Ellen Copeland Natasha goes by many moniker names-Daisy Willows, bahtuhkid, GOAT2Bdazee. She has had a colourful life. Travelled. Natasha co-owns a second-hand clothing & accessories business -La Bella Bijoux Ltd Natasha was born in South Africa & is a French national. She currently resides in the UK Natasha Bodley holds a postgraduate in the Humanities. A BA in Myth in the Greek and Roman worlds & Advanced creative writing. She also holds a Foundation degree in Acting performance. She is currently working on her first novel (semi-autobiographical creative non-fiction). She has published one short story on Amazon called 'Number one' Connect with Natasha Collaborate with Natasha & feel free to Communicate her too. Light, Peace & Love!

Posted on 2016-09-27, in THIS IS LIFE and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 19 Comments.

  1. I like the Cheshire Cat grinning ear to ear. You do the stream of consciousness very well indeed.

    Liked by 1 person

    • T Y Cake. Oh and massive thanks for introducing me to Francesca -( RIP) – Her work is surreal and just my flavour

      Liked by 1 person

      • No problem, I am glad that you like Francesca, she is new to me but I was bowled over by her work(hence the superlatives in my post). Her work is surreal and seems to be a commentary and a dialogue with some of the images from the golden age of surrealism and yet she created her own unique vision. Astounding really.

        Liked by 1 person

      • The key word here is her work is surreal . I am drawn to all things surreal. I’m so glad I found someone like me. Oh, cake! I am so glad I found you. I still wonder about the piece you wrote about the cat and the missing Dad.
        I do. No pressure 😀 lols

        Like

  2. So much, so vivid, every line worked so well against the one before and the next. Getting it all out and making sense of it all, what matters and what doesn’t. Awesome.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. good lord tasha! i get tired and spent. i came and i went. my get up and go well i m older less bolder more wise and have crows feet around my eyes. keep on bloggin and chooglin

    Liked by 1 person

  4. summerstartstoshine

    Great post, so brilliantly written, though that is irrelevant. I’m more concerned that my friend is feeling like this. I’m so sorry you feel so shitty hun. I’ve been down suicidal ideation street on and off lately myself, yesterday was one of those times actually, and it’s shit 😢 I’m glad you write when you feel this extreme darkness as well as the lighter times. You know your mood will pick up again. I’ve seen you rise up from the ashes so many times. Instability is our norm, it sucks *I’m holding you till you feel okay again* I’m here for you ❤❤❤

    Liked by 1 person

    • Hey lovely. Just emotions- waves of emotions. Sitting with them and then thinking I need to escape. How long does that last? It is a new day. Thank you for being -YOU! It is the hardest time to write but I did it and I feel better. Sorry,you are having it rough too, hun. I know you are fighting. I know! Yeah, moods will shift – just like clouds. I’m glad we don’t bring each other down. do you know what I mean? You give me hope. These little messages. Our posts. small gestures but they make a massive impact on my ❤ . Much love to you and your new F. ha ha! That me smile – like a mega watt smile- you look so chuffed. Lots of love xxx

      Liked by 1 person

  5. Very relatable. I’ve been there a few times

    Like

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