Sonnet 4

All that I view feels like an illusion.

None of it seems to come near.

Has it become all that I fear?

Is there anyone who can feel my confusion?

Is this maybe just a delusion.

Everything vanish that I hold dear.

Will my vision ever become clear?

Will these thoughts ever come to a conclusion?

What if the soul could be released.

Escape from the body in which it stayed.

Eventually it will become nothing more than a shade.

It will know that the mind is deceased.

How come it is so difficult to feel?

Maybe it is not even real.


The Boy On The Train

I remember it clearly, as if the moment was still here. Sat opposite, writing frenetically in a notepad. Every now and then raising his eyes, those breathtaking eyes, shyly. An insecure smile spreading on the soft lips, before continuing his art. A desire to ask him, question him, what about me was so interesting it could be put into writing, rose. Though just like him, I was sat there watching, writing frenetically in a notepad.


The Boy On The Train

Supportive Much?

In short, neither of my parents have ever shown much suport or encouragement in my interests or visions. I have been forced to have certain hobbies and give up others. Since I moved out two years ago this have of course been different. Except the one big thing; the reason I moved. I moved 400 km to attend university where I study Literature and Academic writing. Since the age of thirteen I have wanted to be a writer and I am much interested in languages, so for me this was the obvious choice. I was over the moon seeing the programme is also in English, which I honestly prefer speaking rather than Swedish.

Now, my father is still against me being of a creative mind; he have always wanted me to be a surgeon. ‘Creativity is a waste of time’ according to him. So, me studying literature is basically the most stupid thing on earth. The only reason I am allowed to stay is because I am good at it. Personally, it feels like it is the only thing I am good at. For example, I recently was employed as a freelance translator which I am very much qualified to be; I have a CAE-degree and have studied languages for five years. This my dad thinks is the biggest lie I have been told yet. He says that they will never actually give me any job opportunities and that I am a failure. It has only been three weeks and I am in the running to get my first assignment. Thanks for the support.

Some of the things I have been told over the years:

• “You will never get a job.”

• “You’re too dumb to ever make anything of yourself.”

• “Why would you study that, it’s useless.”

• me: “So, you’re telling me to work at a job I detest for the rest of my life, instead of doing something I enjoy and am actually good at doing?” dad: “Yes, obviously.”

• me: “I refuse to be a surgeon.” dad: “Okay, so you don’t have to be a bone surgeon. You shall be a brain surgeon.”

• me: “Why can you never be supportive when it comes to me?” dad: “I’m being realistic, unlike you.”

• “Why even bother, it’s not like you would be able to make anything of yourself.”

Hide Away

Lately, I have had an urge to tell my brother about everything. Or at least about me being a depressive, my suicidal parts I have never wanted to share and probably never will. For some time now I have been swaying to and fro whether I should or not, mainly keeping my own feelings’ protection at interest. This summer I fucked up by being stupid and he saw my arms which are filled with scars. Over the Christmas break I am staying at my parents’ house meaning I have been spending a lot more time with him making me constantly think about it.

But tonight after having an argument with my father where he proclaimed that I am “A fat bitch and always will be!” I in my rage told my brother that if he ever wonders he can ask me but not now because I was too angry. He first said that it was very random and that if I want to tell him he will listen. I hesitated before saying that I wanted to tell but wasn’t quiet sure how. Rather insensitively he replied that it shouldn’t be that hard. It is an incredibly sensitive and taboo subject, of course it is difficult to talk about! Well, shortly I explained that I have been aware that I am depressed since I was 11 and that it has brought along a lot of difficulties such as a self harm behaviour. My body do not naturally produce all those ‘happy hormones’ meaning I have to eat a high dosage of medicine. This far he was rather quiet, until I brought up our father. I said little of what he has done towards me, partly because he does not need to know and partly because I do not want him to. I simply said that he has throughout the years said things that was not good and that it has affected me. Here he interrupted me and to not go into too much details he said that I had basically brought it on myself. As this inconsiderate comment hurt me I blurted out that he punched me as a child and my brother replied: “Then your memory must be deranged.”

If the tears weren’t already pushing by my eyelids before they sure were now. I immediately knew that telling him had been a mistake. He did not understand like I had hoped. And he probably never will. I started walking towards my room mumbling that I did not want to talk anymore. Once I reached my door I turned and asked him not to tell our parents. Angrily he said he would not. But now I am sat here alone and he followed with them to take a walk. Initiated by them but still. I do not trust his promise. The only person in my family I trusted have now lost it as well. Never again will I feel even the slightest piece of safety in this house. All I want to do right now is die or cry until I fall asleep and never wake up. Please hide me away forever.

What comes around, goes around

I’m not really sure what to say, for I am not really sure how I feel. About a month ago I was introduced once again to a new doctor who after our meeting put me on new kinds of medicine. New pills for my sleep and anxiety (relaxes me at night helping my insomnia but does little for the anxiety) and also new antidepressants. Last year I were given two different kinds which had no effect what so ever so this doctor wanted to try something else. Due to that I earlier have been nonrespondent he also asked if I wanted to take blood samples to see if we could find a reason why, to which I of course said yes. Because of my mentality I have found it tough keeping up with everything at uni. However during the last few days I have handed in 4 assignments. The weirdest thing about it was that I did not even complain about it being difficult. For the first time since I began university I felt inspired, I was enjoying writing it. Part of me wondered if it was the pills finally kicking in making me energized. But then why did I still feel so sad? I have started reading excessively only feeling calm finding my escape in other worlds. Though this also affects my perception of time. One hour and two days seeming at times to pass in the same speed without me noticing a difference. I want to cry but seem to find no tears.

Sonnet 3

Slowly they all keep flowing down the river.

Their appearance be nothing more than a ghost.

For eternity being watched by their host.

Making all the rest of the mortals shiver.

By the name, by his title, they all quiver.

The ferryman brings them all to coast.

Are they possibly wondering who misses them the most.

Now there is no escape from their caregiver.

A few lucky mortals though.

Are brought to the everlasting Fields.

Perhaps their linage protected by shields.

Those few ones be embraced by the glow.

The time is ticking, calling on all.

Soon it will also be our time to fall.

How are you?

Lately I have been asking myself how I am feeling. But I don’t quiet know how to describe it. One moment everything feels as if it is crashing down on me, the pain, the frustration, the sorrow, the confusion. Some days I am so stressed because of it that I am shaking and can’t sit still, like I must keep myself busy so I don’t think about it. Another moment I feel numb and heavy as if I can not move. Those days I just lay in my bed and stare into nothingness. Constantly I avoid thinking too much since I am a afraid of what I feel when it happens. When my mind starts thinking about the future, especially about uni and my mental health care, a voice in my head is screaming “I can’t! I can’t! I can’t!” and if I do not distract myself my thoughts spiral down this black hole. What might have seen like minor things to others have been major to me when things have happened. I feel guilty and bad even when I haven’t done anything wrong. Suicidal thoughts keep creeping up on me. I don’t want to live like this, I don’t want to be like this, and there is nothing I can do about it.