...I must live

My head up in the clouds.

I was never afraid of heights.

A fear of falling down,

back to the truth,

seeing my lies.

Accepting dissatisfaction,

The same study, unknowingly repeated.

These experimental visions will amount to nothing;

a fear the scientist used to be afraid to admit.

When calamity guides your observations

and determines your decisions,

failure is the only answer found.

Science and spirituality, contradicting and complementing each other.

A watercolour miracle which allows me to know the truth.

Down the sink hole,

with the grief of what I have left.

I want to keep scrubbing until a new person appears.

Under the layers of pain.

Showering away my fears.

Someone with a cleaner past.

It hurts too much,

the effort seems forlorn.

So I bathe in water as stagnant as my life.

Floating in dirty water.

The day we ended,

the start of my downhill slope.

Many more days have past,

since I crashed.

You shouldn't be on my mind.

You exist as a fantasy.

A threat,

a lesson,

a gift of desperation.

The strain of the past,

not so heavy on my mind.

People were right;

healing takes time.

This tired melody still playing for longer than I want.

I drink for two,

for my unborn child.

I drink for three

because we were never close enough.

I drink for four,

so I can forget the mother I never met.

I drink for seven

to toast all my ex-boyfriends.

I drink for ten

because I miss people who are dead.

I drink for twelve,

so I can pretend I’m at a party again.

I drink for fifteen,

when I realise we were never really friends.

Each sip has a reason.

Every bottle is purposed.

I’m drowning in alcohol.

It’s taste bittersweet.

No matter how much I drink,

My childhood in a suitcase.

Comfy socks,

Pyjama tops,

My favourite story books.

Toys I forgot about.

Sentimental trinkets and

Ex-boyfriend’s t-shirts.

Photographs of people I cherish.

And others I’d rather forget.

Each item contributing to who I am.

Goodbye to that room

that house,

to my hometown.

A new nomad,

It’s a sunny day - I should be enjoying myself.

I eagerly hope and fear that every car that goes past will be yours.

Disappointed when I realise it was just another grey vehicle.

I hate being outside because I want to bump into you,

but I’m terrified of what would actually happen if I did.

I avoid places you might be,

I can’t face actually seeing you.

Hanging onto my sanity by a thread.

Why wasn’t I good enough for you?

Holding onto my life and loosing grip.

What could I have done differently?

I imagine how I will do it.

Should the goodbye letters be brief or lengthy?

What charities should I redistribute my money to?

What songs should be played at my funeral?

I miss you.

If I do this,

you should know this is not your fault.

I know you’re not good for me but I still love you.

It helps me see the truth.

I’m no longer heartbroken over you.

My pain has transitioned.

The weight dragging me down;

the hole in my heart;

the disordered thinking swirling around my head.

Struggling with loneliness,

I am alone.

Potentially unloved.

Potentially with no friends.

Codependency is supposed to be bad.

Gurgling in my brain.

The second bottle’s intention isn’t to numb.

It desires to feel pain.

In my mind whilst I indulge.

The next morning as I fight.

I might be a problematic drinker.

Their genes killing me.

My DNA destroys.

Stories of my parents.

Their mistakes,

personalities,

problems.

I worry these flaws are within myself.

My mother and father didn’t raise me.

How am I so afflicted?

A generational curse.

Repeated with no end.

I should never raise children.

It would be cruel for me to become a mother.

No matter my intentions;

That connects to a higher power.

Which elevates you to the top.

When will I revel in an empty room?

The valley is dark.

I am stalked by the shadow of my own death.

‘Hope’ promises that this has a purpose.

The hardest part of isolation

Not connected to reality.

As I snap out of it,

the fantasies in my head shame me.

Red wine makes it easier,

to drift to another place.

I’m not really ‘here’.

I don’t want to experience ‘now’.

Unwilling to accept reality;

or live a life that’s not on my terms.

Continued escapism,