I Wish

I bet they never wonder what it’s like? The people who are lucky enough to say that depression isn’t an illness, the people who think a little fresh air will fix an organ with chemical problems. How I wish I was one of those people, how I wish I could turn a blind eye and never experience the agony of the torturous illness that breathes alongside me, the shadow that owns me.
I wish I could erase the scars that cover my arms, those big, fat scars that make me as ugly on the outside as I feel on the inside.
I wish I could shred the legal paperwork that’s stuck in my mind from all the detentions I’ve had under the mental health act.
I wish I could full my bones with density and claw anorexia out of my mind. I wish I didn’t know every affect of starvation on the human body and I wish even more that I didn’t know that from personal experience.
I wish I knew how to cope like everyone else seems to. Why is my go to always ligature? Why do I look at every object and see it as a weapon to use on myself?
I have thought about my death more than my birth. I have thought about killing those baby feet my mother loved more times than the Earth has existed.
I wanted to be someone in this world, to stand on my own feet and help others. I wanted a house and children and a dog called Toast but then my innocence was stolen, I lost my baby and I’m waiting to get a bed in a mental health supported home.
All those dreams, all those hopes, all that energy and enthusiasm was drained out of me and all that remains is hopelessness, heart break and darkness.
And next time they ask me what I do, I’ll tell them that I breathe and that my heart beats and that I’m surprised I’m still doing that.

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2 thoughts on “I Wish

  1. Breathing is good. Getting from morning, to noon to night still doing it is a big challenge some days and you’ve done it every day so far and I hope you can continue to do so because, selfishly, I really rather like you. Sending hugs. Here if I can help xxx

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  2. Hi Claire, another thing you are doing day in, day out, is being brave. Because if I was half as brave as you to share so poignantly my experiences I would be proud. I know you can’t see it yourself so I’ll be it for you, I am proud of you Claire. And, like Pooky, I really rather like you so do keep on breathing and beating. xxx

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