theSword

That calm feeling that starts right before the storm arrives, the feeling when life might just be a little too good and the feeling of the chaos about to begin. My life seems to be full of these moments, the moments when you decide right before the shit is about to hit whether to run and hide or to stand there and fight with little armour you have left. To stand there and feel the abrupt coldness of what is about to hit,  when asked to describe my depression that's is how I describe it. Some find it odd that I choose to describe it in this way, for me the storm is that never ending pit within me that feels lost and uneasy constantly searching for that life jacket, along with the accompaniment of the anxiety which rushes into my body like heroine in the veins of an addict. It's always hard telling those around you that the reason you've been hidden away in your fortress which most people would just see as a bed, these past few weeks is because of the never ending feeling of sadness  and the deafening silence of replies you've given is because of something you yourself are unable to understand is always hard. People look at you with this glimmer of hope that yo're going to provide them with this bullet proof answer and everything's going to be back to normal, so having to tell them that no it's not can sometimes be soul destroying feeding the demons within your mind that race round your mind like bullets. The hardest part is watching the faces of the ones you love change and their approaches towards you change, you begin to notice that everyone is now treating you like a broken china doll who everyone is trying there best to glue back together! sometimes it stops, sometimes for that brief moment you push my way through the broken china and realise that you can't be glued back together and this wont go away with a bit of glue. Those around you begin to feel as though it is their fault and their doing that has caused this you find yourself repeatedly telling people it isn't their fault that you're so broken inside and feel as though you where born without a heart or soul, so broken sometimes that the next day seems like a marathon away! Then comes the heroine in the blood stream, the panic within. As your body begins to feel  the anxiety rushes through it,  heart beating so strong that you're convinced it's going to come roaring out of your chest and onto the table in front of everyone, hoping and praying the bounding will stop and that your mind will have a small time to rest before the storm begins to hit.

My fingers tracing his lips, rose and plump they seem like another dimension away, that feeling becomes even more intense when they’re pressed against my thigh running up and down. The battle begins with us fighting to rip one another clothes off first my top then his pants everything flying everywhere, we finally reach the bedroom... His lips touch mine the simplicity of his bite on my lip sends shivers over my body we are now entwined with one another rolling around like autumn leaves. 

I don't remember much of my childhood before her accident my brain just shuts off all of that time. I remember the day my parents came to pick me and my brother up, they sat us down and told us what had happened-my Nan had fallen down the stairs and broke her neck. They sat and told us what might happen the good and the bad, I remember it like it was yesterday sitting on my mums knee in my Bratz body warmer and listening to what she was saying. I was 6 at the time and my brother was 8 I understood a little about what they where telling us, they gave us the chance to ask questions, "will she walk again?" Remembering the devastation on my mums face as she told us she wouldn't.  I will always in ore of how composed my mum stayed for the next 3 years.  She didn't cry her lip didn't tremble. She spoke softly and calmly and still managed to look hopeful. For them next 3 years I spent my weekends travelling to different hospital to see her, walking in and plastering a smile on my face and pretending not to be scared, I remember watching a man wheel himself across the corridor lay on a bed because he'd broke his back. For us that became the new 'normal' it wasn't so terrifying after a while. when I first told my mum that I didn't have any memory of that time I could tell it upset her and that she felt almost guilty.  As I've grown up death has played a big part in my life loosing people so young I wouldn't change any of it, so many people told my parents that we was too young that we shouldn't have been exposed to that kind of stuff.   I don't agree its given me understanding of life and taught me to value those around me.

In the last 12 hours I have probably consumed more than 7 pints of coffee from piping hot to ice. At this point I’m seriously thinking that my body has now changed from being made up of water to just being made up of the darkest and purest forms of coffee, not that I’m complaining-it brings me rather a lot of joy knowing I could be on the same tier as Jesus turning water into wine. 

Hide it, get rid of it no one will know, wipe the food from my mouth pretend you’re not hungry it’ll eventually go.

Go read my first post!!

I will always remember the day that boy called me the beach whale out of water, it's followed me around ever since, like a Dorset tone in my ear playing on repeat in my head. Growing up I have always been the friend who is taller, little bigger, had an arse and had the curves. That wasn't always a good thing when I was younger I was in a friendship group of small girls with petite figures and long lushes locks I always knew I didn't fit in with them. They where fun and outgoing and I was shy and nervous always looking for an excuse to get out of uncomfortable situations. These girls where seen as "cool" they where out every night drinking and doing drug the majority of them had lost their virginity before they had even learnt what a tampon was they slept round like it was a regular every day necessity-blow jobs, hand jobs, fingering and more these girls claimed to know what "men" aka boys wanted.  They told stories of how you should act with a boy and that it's was normal to be labelled with the term slag and that it was something in which as a young 13 year old girl you should aspire to be like.  Then there was me the uncomfortable slightly larger girl that... REFUSED to be subjected or change myself for some boy that wanted one thing from me like he had already gotten from my friends. By 14 I had become the "mum" of the group watching my friends drawn their livers in the local corner shops cheapest cider filled with all kinds of crap watching their pupils dilate, I can no longer see the iris. Chaws swinging like the old playground set that rots away in my back garden, I would sit a pray that they didn't fall down that I wouldn't once again have to sprint like an Olympic gold medallist to the closest shop for help. My lungs tightening as if they where shrivelled up leaves on the side walk. A thanks never followed, the mother of one of the girls smiles but never thanks my mind wonders what would of happened if I hadn't acted, yet no thanks was given her daughters heart still beating...barely. Yet no thanks given! The boy came around over the next few month spouting the famous words which would ring in my ears for the next four years, out on the park sat on the bench talking me sat in my leggings and oversized top he spouted the words "where is she the beach whale out of water?" people laughed and pointed repeating those words no one stopping to think the effect it had made. My face burning from the embarrassment I didn't eat for the next three days. In group chats my name changed the beach whale I was shamed. Questioned by what I ate and asked if I was sure I needed anymore. Now 19 and proud those thoughts still in my mind I no longer pray for the scales to be wrong. I no longer cry with the thought of my thighs, those girls barley live they're just misfits in the night. Taught by my mum those curves are good my body is a temple she praises me for. She built me up so high above helping me learn those people don't matter. The stretch marks that lie along my thighs are mine no others in the world look quite like mine, when people ask who's you're fighting thought. My mother my partner the one like no other she cheers in my corner smiling from a far she's now proud of the women I am today.