"Fraud"

I feel like a fraud,

when I can't write a word.

I mean, on my one project:

the one I avoid,

and avoid,

and avoid some more -

and, in the end, can barely remember.

Then, I do. I remember, after all.

I remember why I

even started:

my novel,

the one work I am still alive to complete -

the thing I believe in.

No-one can take

that kind of pressure, right?

Not even my characters -

and surely,

it's enough just to get through,

when I spend months dreading appointments

that I absolutely must attend.

Do you know how many things

fall apart,

when it's that hard to make it

to any appointment?

Your body falls apart,

as well as your mind.

This isolation – it's driving me crazy.

Yet, people terrify me.

Real life?

Yeah - because, you know, there is

a world

beyond Twitter and Facebook,

and even You Tube.

I think life is beautiful. Don't get me wrong.

The trees and, when I actually manage

to get out on to the balcony – the breeze. Nature.

I'm in love with life.

I'm just sick of being stuck inside my own head.

I'm sick of being

anxious and depressed,

and of not being able to say

that I'm anxious and depressed -

because I've said it before.

I'm sick of not trusting anyone,

because I can't any more,

because I've been abandoned too many times.

I must anticipate yet another

slammed-in-face door.

I'll pretend to be okay now.

I just need to write some more,

and maybe then,

I won't feel like a fraud,

in the form

of a “writer”, who can't write

her words.

"Insight and Obsession"

I understand my own tendencies

My insight – my alleged sanity

I feel you

More than you can ever know

More than I can ever show

It's never rational

With me

And there are past attachments

I've been letting go

And there are constant fears

And this depressive haze

Please don't be scared

Don't run away

I can withdraw

You'll never know

I'll never show

How deeply I care

Or that I'm starting to lose my mind

Again

"Shadows Exist"

Keep it light,
or keep it dark.
Shadows exist.
Just keep it authentic.

"Before You Left"

They promised lifelong friendship, but could not care less.

Day after day, she gave everything – gave them her best.

Did your knife go in deep enough, before you left?

Do you not give a toss that you have left a friend bereft?

"Life Sentence"

I’ve always said that friendship is eternal –

but maybe I am too idealistic – too naïve. 

We agreed that friendship was for life,

but it was never supposed to be a sentence.

If there is really nothing left that I can offer you,

I have no option but to respect your point of view.

I don’t even begin to know

how to let this go.

Yet, my life’s mission never was to torture you.

Just don’t ask me to say that

to chuck it all away is right.

It feels so wrong.

 

If you ever need me, I’m still here for you.

Memories are eternal.

Mine will see me through.

"Real Life is Cliques and Clubs"

Life is the slammed-in-face, then double-locked door.

You’re surplus to requirements.

We don’t need you any more.

It’s an endless series of cliques and clubs -

exclusive, not inclusive -

and does your face – and body – fit?

If not, kindly forget it.

Thou shalt not be no fun,

which isn’t so easy

when you’re dying inside,

and hardly ever leave your home,

through no fault of your own.

It’s all just cliques and clubs –

and if you’re in, you’re in –

and if you’re not, then tough.

“Real life” is all just cliques and clubs.

"Care in the Community"

It’s not down to psychiatric staff,

who won’t help the suicidal.

It’s not down to the system,

forcing her to work - and not be “idle”.

You can’t start blaming the GPs,

who won’t provide home visits.

If she is ill, it’s her own fault –

for if not hers, whose is it?

It was not down to her family,

or so-called “friends”, who claimed to care.

Of course she could have talked to them

about her deep despair.

They wouldn’t have called it “attention-seeking”.

They wouldn’t have ignored her.

Her blood is not upon their hands.

To suggest as much, is out of order. 

"Return of the Travelling Funfair"

Nothing much, then

Just some abstract link

In my mind

With a passing funfair here

One that returned recently

How could you understand

I don’t expect it

And yes, I feel rejected

I understand

That abstract can never compete

With tangible

Shared memories

But maybe to me

It’s everything

That time – this time –

Anniversaries, like a carousel

Of dreams, that expired

And pass by, unnoticed

But not by me

"Not Valued"

We lost the naturalness and regularity –

the rhythm, cadence, and the melody.

It’s how almost every friendship

in my life, will

ultimately be.  It’s sad

that friends so rarely value me

the way that I do them.

"The Shift"

The shift is there

It’s clear to see

It can never be the same

Much less

Shift in the direction

That would have worked

For me – my dream

I can’t uncare

There’s nothing to be done

And so I stay

Yet pull away

And my broken heart beats on

"The Final Letting Go"

It has to come –

the final letting go –

and there’s a peace

that one day has to show

itself – a faint light –

and the memories

will just be beautiful,

and help to ease

this pain.  I’d rather leave

before it all breaks down.

"Never Trust Again"

Always, somehow, I will be excluded. 

Never again, will I become deluded. 

It wouldn’t have taken much:

A word or two can change everything,

light up the darkness in another’s soul.

 

I hope for more

each time,

but always,

it turns out to be a lie,

and I am left alone, to cry.

I am always on the outside –

the one excluded.

My “life” will never change,

and I will never trust again.

"Depression, Fiction and the 'Real World'"

If it wasn’t for my characters,

I would have given up long ago.

I can’t survive in your so-called “real world”.

Mine is the only one I know.

I don’t exist in “real life”.

I’m nobody there – no-one at all. 

My characters live inside my mind,

and trust me with their lives – their secrets. 

I know them.

I know almost no-one at all,

in so-called “real life”.

People only want to judge. 

I don’t belong here at all. 

Depression is closing in on me,

and most days, I can’t even write a thing -

but I won’t give up,

because I can’t.

Yet, I wish I could. 

If all there was here was “real life”,

I know I would give up

right now. 

"Haunted Doll"

You view me as inanimate.

Yet, look into my eyes.

Touch my skin – cracked porcelain.

Can’t you see through my disguise?

First, I’ll play with your possessions.

Then, I’ll move on to your mind. 

I’ll haunt you, even in your dreams.

I am sweetness redefined. 

I only crave attention.

Let me out of my glass case -

if you dare – don’t think I’ll murder

you, in your sleep.  With my pretty face,

what’s not to trust, anyway?

I only want to play. 

"Alone in Reality"

When the pain, in my body and mind,

is excruciating;

when multiple fears

overwhelm me,

and the world is

rapidly closing in –

that’s when I thought

the people

who told me they cared

would be there.

In my time of need.   

Yet, most disappear. 

They run from my fear,

won’t stay through my tears. 

What does that mean?  Signify?

That none of them ever cared?

I am alone and abandoned:

That is my

reality.

"They Never See"

I think it’s sad, what they can never see.

Silence - its own screaming testimony –

shows ultimately, what they think of me. 

I care until there’s nothing left,

and then –

maybe some drama; or, perhaps –

just to drift

slowly

apart.

Things turn out as they do: That’s destiny. 

I still think it’s sad

that they never can see,

or maybe just don’t care

that they are losing me. 

"IRL"

Do I exist at all?

All seems unreal - surreal.

Of course, no-one can ever know

exactly how another feels.

Is anyone or anything

tangible - for real?

Am I real?

Do I exist at all?

"Becomes Another Day"

Hold on, just one more moment,

which becomes another day.

The subtle shades of sadness sing

deceptively sweet melodies. Hope fades,

like a repeating chorus line.

Still, we hold on

just one more moment,

which becomes

another day.

"Barriers"

these barriers, you'll never touch or see

they're real - they are a part of me

and the end results - visible enough

to make a cruel world reject me

"So-Called 'Known' Before"

How can I ever know for sure

what I have so-called "known" before,

that people wouldn't leave?

I thought I knew the score

so many times - but I was wrong -

the lyrics from another song.

My mind knows - not my heart.

I've been this way for far too long.

I want to let go of my fears,

but part of me never will.

It's tearing me apart, but it's true:

I can't trust anyone.