Sweet second life…

TRIGGER WARNING: depression, substance abuse, physical/emotional abuse, suicide thoughts

girl-1098611_960_720

I’m nesting it in my palm, like it would be a sacred treasure. Mine. No one knows it and no one sees it, because it’s my secret. The key to my second life. A password to open the bright places in my being, so that I can join the happy crowd.

I’m keeping it safely, for it was hard to obtain it. I only have a few of them, all blue and perfectly round, like the blue full moon. My pills. My keys to an existence less painful. I will only take one, because tonight life’s rough and I’m entitled to a little gentleness.

I look at the light blue of its surface and it reminds me of a sunny sky. Ironically, I bought it during a terrible storm, the one that crashed my love to the ground and left me agonizing. And then I found my second life, where voices are soft and touches are tender.

I put it on the tip of my tongue, it feels so sweet. I know that I’ll be dancing soon, embraced by arms that never harm me, and all the colors will dance around me. I will be child again in my second life, I will be safe again. Soon…

I let it roll down, but I don’t swallow it, not yet. I like it when the sweetness turns into bitter, when the soft surface gets scratchy. It’s like in real life, when, instead of a bed of roses, I find myself smashed to the ground. Reality is bitter, isn’t it?

It rolled down to my throat, leaving a sour-bitter-acid trace, and now my eyes are filled with tears. It will be alright, soon I’ll be flying. In my second life I always fly. I find bright places inside me, but I can’t stay there for too long…no, I have to fly, I have to dance, ’cause if I stop the walls will tumble over and I’ll die…I’ll just die…

But now I’m here, inside my second life. The sky is sunny-blue, the voices are soft, the touches are gentle. I’m in a cloud of cotton candy, swirling around a rainbow of colors.

And friends will not betray me here.

Promises wont be broken.

There will be no diseases.

And he will love me. Eternally mine.

Tomorrow it’ll be raining in reality, but I wont feel it. Sarcasm will prevail and voices will yell, but I won’t know it. I’m not coming back! I built my castle, here, inside my dream, and blue soldiers are guarding me.

Release me, please…

 

NOTE: This post is dedicated to the ones fighting depression/substance abuse/suicide thoughts. To all the calls for help that were ever ignored. Please don’t give up.

The post is NOT about me, or my personal experience. I do not encourage substance abuse. I merely try to present the reality from other perspective, without judging or giving any unwanted advise.

 

All credits for the photo to I.A. from http://www.pixabay.com

 

 

Intoxicated

steampunk-4107687_960_720The insatiable green cups of my eyes tasted your venom,

so now, drunk and weary, my tears are wandering…

You tried to kiss them, but my eyelids desperately fluttered, like two intoxicated birds escaping cages.

The broken wings of my eyebrows stretched to their zenith, until my expression was nothing but fear.

It was not innocence, the reason why I shivered under your touch,

while lips are trembling, and hearts are dying crushed by the fists of despair!

You thought my eyes are bright, but they were empty…’cause drunken tears left long ago, searching for drugs higher than love.

My green cups of fragility, doors to a soul you ravished, now learning to be sober.

Come close, my love, just taste a drop of honey, it pours onto my blushing cheek, I swear it’s sweet…

Don’t be so shy, why do you fear me? It’s only poison…

The one you gave me long ago…until…drunk and weary…and lost…

I became an addict.

 

 

All credits for the photo to the talented Felicia Ruiz from http://www.pixabay.com

 

Fearless in this love…

mysterious-5100676_960_720

I had a dream, the strangest you could ever think of… he said, gently taking my hand in his, smiling when my fingers met the warmth of his skin.

It was about hell…it opened its gates and black storms were released into the world. The trees were kneeling and worshiping its powers and a dark smoke covered the sky…he whispered, kissing my sleepy eyes, surprised by their peacefulness.

Winds were dancing around us, trying to break the invisible bond between your soul and mine, and I begged you…don’t let go of me, never let go…he sighted, pulling me closer, inhaling the perfume of my bare shoulders, trying to memorize its fragrance.

And you were fearless. 

But they were stronger, they broke the arms that held me and, slowly, your heart was breaking too…while mine was turning into ice…he gasped, planting butterfly kisses on my neck, surprised by the tremble in my body.

I saw you praying to an angry sky, I saw you pleading for love, I tried to say “I love you”…but demons twisted it into an insult. My tender touches, meant to sooth your bruises, hell turned them into violence…I saw you dying in my dream…he cried, pressing his head on my chest, listening to the beatings of my heart.

But you’re alive, more beautiful than ever, your eyes brighter than stars, rose petals on your lips, wild orchids on your skin…your heart creating music in my ear…You are here! You did not let go…you never will…You went to hell to find me and now we’re back home!

He turned aside, embracing my pillow. It was still wet from all the tears I cried over this darkness. The room is empty, there’s no one in my side of the bed. I’m still in hell, trying to find a love divine by nature…and he’s not here with me.

Where are you? Why are you never here when I’m lost in nightmares? 

Why can’t I wake up?

 

All credits for the photo to the talented Sam Williams from http://www.pixabay.com

Title inspired by https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_RHap8fvka8

Tell me your story!

62243941_2529420197088606_4204089743681519616_n-The night sky is more generous than ever, cradling our dreamy eyes in milliards of stars…

-But you can’t see them, silly girl, ’cause you’re only starring at me! Not that I’m complaining…

-I do see them, as reflections in your eyes…

-Tell me one of your stories!

-Nooo…you know that all my stories are sad!

-It doesn’t matter…your voice can take me there, and I need to escape…

-Okay…Once upon a time…

-Yesss…

-There was a little boy, very sweet and gentle, with big eyes and a good, carrying, generous heart.

A good little boy…

-One day, he was walking down the dark forest, and he got lost…So he ran and searched for his way out, but there was none…and he felt scared and hopeless…and so alone…

-Oh…

-Looking down, he saw a little light…golden, flickering light, so he followed it. It leaded him to his way out of the forest. Only that the light wasn’t just a light…it was a little bird.

-Right. A bird.

-With golden wings and sparks in her eyes…wounded, unable to fly, only to crawl. He took her home and build a cage for her. A golden cage.

-Still a cage, no matter if it’s golden.

-A place for her to heal and to be safe. And, with his love, she got better…

-That’s nice…

-Her wings grew stronger, so she wanted to fly. But, no matter how much she pleaded with the little boy, he wouldn’t let her…

-Selfish and possessive!

-He was afraid for her, that she might get hurt. He was afraid for him, that he might lose her. So she stopped pleading and stopped spreading her wings. But she couldn’t stop dreaming! And the dark forest’s whispers were so alluring and so seductive…

-And?!

-Finally, she got too weak to fly, so he thought it’s safe to leave the door of her cage wide open. So was the window…

-Nooo! She jumped and smashed her body on the floor!

-She flew! Maybe her dreams gave her strength…or maybe it was the dark forest, who knows? Maybe some charmed wind took her and held her…but she flew! She found her way back into the forest!

-Wonderful…

-The boy…what do you think he did?

-He learned to respect other people’s choices?

-He grew up as an angry, resentful, bitter soul…Searching for nothing but revenge! I’m sorry…

-Heyyy…please don’t cry! Why are you crying? Oh…you are that bird! That bird was you all along and I didn’t noticed!

-No, I’m not that bird…

I am the girl he used to replace his lost golden bird…

 

 

Photo from my personal collection.

The one who heals…

demon-drawing-depression-7The little girl was standing on the balcony a little too close to the edge, but, this time, sadness was stronger than fear. She always avoided the highs, the peaks, the sharp edges, the tall surfaces. Anything that would get her close to falling…

She heard the voice, louder and clearer, it brought chills to her spine, it always did. She knew she’s just a step away, but, this time, anger was stronger than panic. She wiped away her tears, there was nothing left to lose, only a life she no longer considered worthy of living…

Not like this.

So she climbed to the highest surface, the place that turns the city lights into small candles disappearing in the darkness. Her heart was spiraling into a place where love fades away in more than one overwhelming way…

You did well so far. 

She tried to silence the voice, but it was stuck somewhere inside her, part of her being, part of her darkness. Tired of fighting, tired of tears…tired of asking herself if life could be any different…she was now contemplating the falling.

It doesn’t hurt.

The voice was calm and alluring, calling her, tempting her, promising an eternity of lost memories. Her parents fighting, her father drowning in alcohol, her mother smoking, depression, panic attacks every school morning, the bullying, feeling inferior, social phobia, anorexia, abuse, poverty…Yes, that’s what she will forget!

It will be like falling asleep, all dark, all safe, all peaceful.

That’s when she realized that the voice is lying. Peaceful? she asked.

Yes, peaceful.

Like nothing bad ever happened to me?

Yes, like all the pain is taken away.

Taken away by whom? By you? she shouted.

Hey, if you are that powerful, if you are that wonderful, if you are that strong…

Than why the hell weren’t you capable of healing my life until now? Answer, answer now, or I swear, I will spend the rest of my life haunting you!

Because…

the voice was chocking, barely whispering, but the words came clear:

…because I cannot heal, I only destroy…

The little girl climbed down from the sharp edge of the balcony, back to safety. Her tears were falling free, her hair war flying in the cold midnight wind, her hands were trembling, but she stood brave.

Abuse, fears, poverty, shame, bullying, neglect, anorexia, depression…

Step by step, she will overcome every demon who crosses her path.

By the power of The One who heals.

 

 

I found the image at: https://ayoqq.org/explore/demon-drawing-depression/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Do you want me on my knees?

kiss_you_hard_in_the_pouring_rain_by_kris_kamikakushi-d8j79ttI was walking barefoot, tired and weary, when the skies turned black. It wasn’t unusual to me, it wasn’t strange or frightening. It was my world, my life with the desperation within. I was walking empty and broken when I found him.

He was waving a black flag, a symbol of a war he was longing to win, for he was battling the same angry winds that smashed our spirits to the ground. For an eternity, or so it seemed back then. He was walking in tears of anger when he saw me.

I ran to him like he would be my long lost friend, my prince or my savior. I convinced myself that all my stories are real and I was going to convince him that I’m his fairy. Selfish and naive, I was building a novel around this fantasy of mine. I ran to him like a homeless child searching for a shelter.

He opened his arms and almost smiled. A clear sign of a conqueror, even if the victory was bitter-sweet for him. After all, what kind of joy would bring such an easy prey? Nothing precious, no diamond hidden in a stone, just a broken heart with an uncommon desire to surrender. He opened his arms, but the gates to his heart stayed closed and sealed.

I cried when he first kissed me, and the light in me brightened the black skies. I let it all out, in a hopeless attempt to heal his blindness. But the torment and the pain were still there, no matter how tight I was holding to love! I blamed myself for the loneliness I felt in his arms. I cried when he kissed me, knowing it would be our last kiss.

He called me his princess, just like I always dreamed. He believed my stories and he pronounced the perfect words. And, as my heart was melting in his palms, he took my hand, taking me to a place he called home. He had a certain sadness in his eyes, as he walked me in, through the golden gates. He called me princess, so my cell would be paved with gold.

I searched for the black skies, but all I could see were the thick walls surrounding my golden cage. Locked with no chance to ever escape, to ever walk barefoot by the sea, I started to dream of storms and raging waves, to wash away this devastation inside. Imprisoned without a judgement, without a crime, I broke every vow and torn my innocence apart. I searched for the black skies and begged for an ending to this life sentence.

He admired the golden cage, for it was his creation. Years of anger and bitterness made it even shinier. His efforts were not in vain, for the view was spectacular! A free show, what a shame that the world couldn’t see it! How often can you see a heart breaking in pieces in front of you? How perfect is the soul the gives itself to the flames, just for one short glance at the deep blue in your eyes? He admired the golden cage and decided that the game is boring and dull, but we’ll play it anyway.

I fell on my knees, asking for one thing. One and only. The key.

He offered me his heart instead. 

 

 

I found the image at: https://www.deviantart.com/kris-kamikakushi/art/kiss-you-hard-in-the-pouring-rain-515981441

The title is inspired by one of my favorites songs: Scorpions, “Believe in love” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X4WArSKK9go

 

 

 

Sometimes we long for the unspoken

programmazione-neuro-linguistica-300x300

There’s a point where the emotional pain becomes physical. Beyond that, human mind creates echoes of our own sufferance.

-You need to give a meaning to this image because it’s haunting you for years, so speak the unspoken and set yourself free.

-I can’t, I’m sorry, I can’t!

-Why? There will be no judgement, you did nothing wrong. I wont say a single bad word, I wont blame. It’s all in your mind, honey…nothing really happened.

-You don’t understand…it’s not because I’m afraid of your judgement…is just that…

-Yes?

Well, setting myself free would mean putting a huge burden on you! And I can’t…

But he convinced me, unaware of the crucial importance of my confession. So here is the story, the way I lived it.

I don’t remember falling asleep, but I remember the pills. They were supposed to take the pain away and to help me sleep. The image of the chaos we created, his wedding ring somewhere on the floor, his clothes, an open suitcase, the sound of the door he slammed behind him, in anger.

But he came back, I feel him in my half-conscious sleep, he came back because our love is stronger than any prejudice, our love is divine and he knows it…

It’s cold, even if we’re in the middle of the summer…He’s gently covering my trembling body with the soft blanket and I cry. He’s caressing my hair, barely touching my face. It’s different, he’s different and I love this tenderness. I’m trying to open my eyes, he sees my struggle and I feel him kissing my closed eyes. I feel so safe, like never before…

I need you…don’t go…don’t leave me…

Shhhtttt…he whispers and his fingers are pressing against my lips…a shiver runs through my body and I’m sobbing again. There are things he needs to hear…but he wants me to stop talking. I open my lips, there’s no air and I’m gasping…

I love you…

Love…I hear his voice like an echo, but I cannot recognize it…I was suffocating before and now it feels like floating, I dream of blue waters and playful golden lights…He’s holding me, I feel cradled, his arms are my fortress…

But why…why can’t I…

I want to run my fingers through his hair, to look into his eyes, to savor the smell of his skin and the taste of his kisses. Trapped in this darkness, I’m awake, but motionless, laying helpless, betrayed by my senses, struggling to breath…

No…it shouldn’t…hurt…

Quiet…stay quiet…his voice…his fingers on my neck…there’s something cold and I need him to promise that it’ll be alright. Because I’m afraid and I’m hurting…

I’m sorry…

I see it in his eyes, he’s not sure what to make of this story of mine.

And the next thing I remember is the sound of your keys and you trying to wake me up. I cried for hours, in a state of shock.

-You were upset and that’s normal. It was our first big fight and I reacted so foolishly. First thing I did when I came back was to put my wedding ring back on my finger. I never took it off ever since that day.

-You think I made this up? The blue traces on my neck, like being strangled, the bruises on my body, the nightmares…

-I think you had a bad dream, caused by the sleeping pills combined with the painkillers you took.

-What if…

-I would never do that to you, I’m not a monster! What you’re implying is abominable, horrible, and I would never…

-Not you…but what if…

-Don’t! Don’t even say the words. You know what? You were right, I’m sorry for asking you, I’m sorry for pushing you to say these things. They’re better left unspoken. I’m…going out…I need air…

There’s a point where human mind creates echoes of our own emotional pain. That’s where the nightmares come to life, that’s what defines the darkness we’re so eager to explore. My search for answers became his burden, our longing for the unspoken became his curse.

Was it real or was it just a nightmare…

Was it him or a complete stranger…

Was it abuse or a weird unconsciously consent…

Does it matter?

When the line is so thin and blurry…The unspoken becomes real. Emotional pain creates monsters. We abuse our fragile souls seeking for a damnation of any kind, of anyone…

 

 

Sad woman, don’t you cry! (a child’s perspective on depression)

27459501_1806672962696670_4455180634061940390_n

It’s 1 o’clock in the night and I’m not sleeping. I’m trying so hard not to move, not to make her aware that I’m there, sitting in my chair, with my arms wrapped tightly around my knees, imagining I’m inside my protective ball, where pain cannot pierce in…

I see her crying, it’s almost an hour since she started and she’ll probably continue all through the night. Her moves are automatic, robotic, she’s washing the dishes and she has plenty to wash. I’d offer to help, but I’m afraid to speak. I’m also afraid to cry even if I’m convinced that she wont notice.

She’s carrying an imaginary dialogue in her mind. I know it because, from time to time, her lips are moving and her eyebrows are raising just like in a conversation. I’m thinking that she might lose her mind, I’m thinking that she stopped loving me, I’m thinking I’m a burden to her.

It’s cold and I’m trembling, but there’s no way I’m going to sleep. I’m playing with the crumbles of bread on the table. The leftovers from our dinner…the table looks devastated, ugly, dirty and I don’t want this food! I wont eat and I wont sleep, I wont speak and I wont cry. I wont smile until…

She’s turning to me and I can’t even look at her. The swollen eyes, all red from crying, the greasy hair…She used to be beautiful, I hate this ugly side of her! She stars at me, but she can’t see me. She takes the big, sharp knife, the one I’m not supposed to touch and she’s starting to eat. That’s so silly, I’m laughing inside me, a nervous laugh. She’s eating the whole cake, piece by piece. She’s overweight and she’s eating the whole cake! The one I refused to taste before…

It’s my fault. I don’t know how, I don’t know why and I have no idea how to fix this. But it’s my fault. And I’m so small, so powerless, so…invisible. I hate her and I love her at the same time. I’m only 9…and I’m already a horrible person.

She needs a man in her life. Someone who’d make her laugh, someone who’d make her feel loved and beautiful. She needs the whole package! She needs a vacation, a sunny place. She needs a honeymoon. And I’m a burden. And my dad it’s an idiot. And she’s ugly, fat, depressive and hysterical. And I love her more than life itself…

It’s 2 o’clock in the night, I have school tomorrow. I leave her there, with the big knife, with her imaginary dialogue and her broken heart. I’m going to my room and I’m closing the door, using the key I stole from her. I open the window.

The boy from the Moon smiles at me. I smile back and I climb to the edge of my window. I open my arms like flying, but still I’m not brave enough. I still can’t take the fall. Maybe tomorrow.

“I swear I’ll never be like her! I’ll always be pretty and thin! I’ll never cry so my face wont get so ugly and wrinkled! I’ll wear pretty dresses and my hair will be long and shiny. My husband will love me! He’ll take me to sunny places and we’ll have the perfect family.”

Yeah, right.

Just breakaway (Out of the darkness!)

8bac4dde236edb21327d88db23e85acb--celine-sur

The stage was set and the little girl walked right to the microphone. All lights were on her and her hands were trembling. I thought she’ll drop the microphone. I thought she’ll run away. I prayed she would…

He’s holding my hand and I’m squeezing his fingers too hard so he pulls off. I don’t want to witness this but I can’t turn my head this time. I feel guilty…I tried, I really did…but I was called “out of fashion” and “envious” and “jealous” and “with absolutely no taste when it comes to music” and “just a country girl” (I kinda liked the last one).

Yes, they said all these words. The proud parents of the little girl dressed in a black leather dress, with a make up that makes her look tired and cheap. With a black choker way too similar to a collar. I was out of line, I admit. I threatened to call the Child’s Care and they laughed. I spoke about morality and about protecting her image and they ignored me.

Then I used big words like abuse. Emotional abuse. About endangering this innocent child. About using her as a tool to get more fame and money. About selling her soul and her life along with theirs.

“What’s wrong with you? Are you a fanatic? She’ll perform her number just like she was taught to!”

The girl heard me and she started to cry. I made a child cry right before the big show…Yes, I do feel guilty…

He feels the same, even if he doesn’t express it that abruptly. I know he does…I take his hand into mine, looking for comfort…He’s cold as ice.

-How can they expose…

He turns to me and the anger in his eyes leaves me speechless.

-Look, I’m tired of your complaints. I didn’t wanted to come here, you dragged me! But you can’t simply relax and enjoy the show, do you? No. You need to argue, to create drama, to get all the attention!

And he walks away…

I’m here all alone with my tears and my betrayed sense of justice. I’m so sorry…I’m not an attention-addict monster…I’m not a drama queen…I’m just…Just me, the same as I always was. And losing him hurts more than losing any fight for justice. So I surrender…

The little girl sings with a lost voice. Not really wanting to be there. But you know…the show must go on…

Or not.

A harsh sound just interrupted the show. Something’s wrong with the sound. The microphone just became dysfunctional. And my phone is beeping…

I’m an idiot. But, when you cry, I get angry. I want to fix it, whatever it is. So, stupid me, instead of fixing,  I destroyed. If you can forgive me…I’m right outside. 

PS: It will take a while for them to find out…what caused the damage of the sound system, but still…hurry up.

PS2: You with the talking, me with the breaking…we’re still an incredible team, aren’t we, babe?

Yes, we truly are.

I want to be where no memories mar…*

Our eyes met and I knew deep inside my heart…this is destiny…We needed no words, but he wanted me to know, to hear and to remember his voice…

I saw you before…in every princess from my childhood’s books. And I was the hero…your hero.”

He listened to me and, no matter how brave I was trying to be, the tremble in my voice was more than he could take…

“If something would ever happen to you, I just can’t imagine…I’d rather lose my freedom and I’d freely give away my soul if that’s what it takes…to keep you safe…”

He laughed and kissed the traces of my tears.

“So you made a mistake, so what? So you’re not perfect…that’s absolutely wonderful! You’re mine! My woman, my love, my sweetheart! Not some cold, untouchable, perfect porcelain doll…”

I guess I said it out loud…I spoke about my fears…

“I’m not cold, I’m rational. And I think you’re overreacting…anyway, I can’t always stay behind you like a babysitter. If you’re afraid to walk on dark streets, you’d better take some self-defense classes!”

He raised his voice and, for the first time, I felt the need to defend myself…from him.

“I can’t stand it! You’re accusing me of things you’ve done! Your mistakes and yours only! And I have nothing to do with them!”

The door closed behind him. I look around me…everything is so familiar and yet so strange…I’m home, but I feel I’m surrounded by strangers…

“Well, you don’t really like anyone, don’t you? You’re perfect! That’s why you’re so lonely…”

-I love you.

I love you too.

-I don’t feel loved.

I don’t feel loved either.

-Your words can cut as deep as any knife.

-I don’t remember saying these words. I never realized how they sound.

-You don’t remember and I can’t forget. What will we do? I still want you in my life…

 

Emotional abuse is just as painful as the physical one. Use your words gently, wisely, loving and tenderly. Especially with the ones you love.

*This post was inspired and dedicated to a very special lady, who overcame the consequences of emotional abuse and learned to heal others through her words.