Tag Archives: fear

Adult awakening

Drunken awakening

Realisation of self, desperate attempts to revive

Resuscitate

Rescue and control.

 

Spiral and sink,

Fogged and shattered,

Exploding incontinuities

Repugnant existence

 

Advise

Counsel

Recognition, realisation, repetition,

Confession to the self of

The slow descend into

Drifting out of control.

 

Back to a routine

To denial of patterns and comfort

Desperately hiding away to avoid

Burning more bridges,

Hurting while hurting

Defences up while loved ones

Loved hard in the wrong way.

 

Is anything but my preferred way

The wrong way

Or am I asserting control

By pushing everyone away.

 

Self esteem plunging

Self love dissipating

Self hate emboldening

Worthlessness strengthening.

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Escapade 22/4

I dreamt of war.

There was panic in the air but still children milled about. A small Malaysian town, old-school with one story houses, sandy roads, motorcycles everywhere.

I didn’t realise that guns were coming into play, even after everyone started screaming and running. Crossing the street, palm stretched out to say thanks for giving way. To a guy with a rifle. He shoots towards me and then I begin to run, straight for the line of houses, seeking sanctuary.

Everyone who shoots aims not to kill but for close shaves, at least in my case.

A lady takes us little ones in, brings us to the backyard and has us hiding under a blanketed table. We’re found of course; a soldier comes in through the back car-gate, talks a little, rifle held at the ready. It seemed okay still.

A young man appears and I’m his daughter, the soldiers seem to want him alive and well. He says he would go with them provided his daughters were to stay safe. The smiling officer says, “of course.” My dad takes me and we get into the car. Almost immediately after we hear gun shots. The benefactress and the other little girl shot. His face is blank but his eyes reveal shock and disbelief, or was it regret at his naivety. The whole way there, I crouch in the narrow backseat behind the passenger seat, keeping myself out of range for any soldiers aiming at my head.

Outside, a mass of panic and destruction as soldiers yell, shoot and barge into houses, screams and cries are heard constantly before silence begins to take over. I don’t cry but the fear, oh the fear. I remember thinking it was like Cambodia.

We’re in a seating room and everyone there is getting a job assignment as a taxi driver. My dad, the actual taxi driver, doesn’t get one. The impulsive hotheaded child that I am, I take the application forms; nope, my dad’s name isn’t anywhere on these. Thankfully the woman in charge thinks I’m helping to distribute, and so I begin. One of the men there was from the start of the dream, fearlessly (or stupidly) challenging the soldiers. Even now he says he’s not afraid. What a fool. But he says to me, with a distant look, that this reminds him of Sweden. I mention that it reminds me of Cambodia. We stay quiet in solidarity.

I’m in the toilet, my father tells me not to come out no matter what. The same bedroom as my parents in real life, just slightly bigger. All of us staying in it. 7-8 or us. It gets very quiet outside the bathroom, and finally I come out and climb atop my father, he’s smiling. They trust him and allow him to live, for what reason I’m not sure. But I know everyone else is dead.

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Breakups

Crushing loneliness is realising that both of your past relationships began with sex, progressed into romance due to their feeling obligated to your growing love/emotional attachment to them, and ended with the first breaking up on your 8th month saying he was too young to be tied down but has been with his current for 2 years, and the second landing you with depression and anxiety that have not faded 2 years since.

Crushing loneliness and agony is realising you were single for about 3 months between the two relationships, and have been single for 2 years since the last. Many around you are on their way to marriage, have started their careers. While you’re here single, jobless, and lonely.

Crushing loneliness, agony and helplessness is when you have friends who love you and you love back, but you can’t meet cause some days you just can’t bring yourself to be around other people. It’s seeing loving couples and feeling so jealous a disgusting green bitch comes out, playing off as “sassy”. It’s being afraid to start work for equal fear of achievement and failure. It’s sleeping late, waking late, lists that never get fulfilled and projects started but not continued. 

Crushing loneliness, agony, helplessness and frustration is applying to jobs since January, trying out dating apps, avoiding sex and unhealthy emotional relational attachments for 8 months now, going on dating apps, starting 2 creative projects, getting a 3 month freelance job, a test for a potential job, being on the waiting list for the final interview of another potential, and still be clueless. Not knowing why I’m in this state, where I’m supposed to go, what I need to do.

Why I’m not loveable enough to be wooed.
My friend told me to stop thinking about what I can do for someone to love me, but love myself and let whoever deserves me appear when the time is right.

It’s hard when I have control issues, anxiety and depression. When I find it hard to believe I can be loved by someone. Hurt by men, friends or not, with me just a body to so many, and when it was more, dropped because I wasn’t what they wanted me to be, because I couldn’t give them what they needed. They weren’t perfect, but I feel like I wasn’t good enough.

How do I get out of this quicksand, leaving me waist deep with nowhere to go, affixed and trapped? How do I find a job, my passion, my love?

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The screaming is back

The screaming is back.
At the back.
Like a rod thrust through one ear,
Dragging through the nape of my fears,
Burst forth the other drum.

Constantly screaming,
More tactile today, more raw,
It hurts my ears and strains my head.

It’s too quiet out here.
Guess that’s why the screaming started up.
Too soft outside, gotta create noises somewhere.
Better than hearing my realisation
Of the need for love and affection.

So empty, how do I fix it?
Need love, so how do I love myself?
And commence screams.
So how do I stop the screaming.
Who is screaming, who’s there?

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3rd Nightmare in a row

I wouldn’t say it was a nightmare as Hollywood imagines it. No scary monsters, no sudden ghost or monster popping up and scaring me awake – though I had one a couple months back, had to get a hug in the middle of the night from fear – but these three nights have been filled with nightmares that are intensely stressful scenarios.

I dreamt of Chris last night. I was out with friends at… a park of sorts. He was across the lake, or on the lake canoeing. He was bigger, more muscular to an extent but clearly denser and wider. His hair was a crazy afro mess. It was uncomfortable seeing him walking around constantly flexing his biceps. He came over, sat down, and tried to be conversational with everyone, but me. Stares of pity filled the table and I sat in quiet discomfort, minimal eye contact and stiff body posture. Finally got up and left, half running away from him. From them.

He follows, so what else can I do but hop onto the train and hope to lose him? He follows.

Next thing I know, I’m in a courtyard, and using a balloon float up towards a flaky pastry cloud, coasted with sugary gloss like Ritz’s Strudels. I’m not just literally running away from my problems, I’m flying away from it. He becomes Jon in how I was going to find him at his place, but it’s complicated to journey there.

Then I’m at my booth, my magazine’s booth. But who are these girls selling our magazine’s stuff? We have merchandise… we have MERCHANDISE? These girls are punks, they don’t care for the magazine, they don’t care for the store. Why are they here, what’s happening. I take charge and give notes on what needs to be rearranged and sold and explained or given descriptions. Nothing, they listen to nothing and no one.

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