Attempted suicide? Another attempt at life...

Final Hurrah

Perhaps I have finally lost the plot completely? All of my power is being diffused to the law and my head hurts from too many thoughts flying around at once and obviously colliding with each other. The silence surrounding me which should instead be filled with friends and chatter is as loud as ever; I can hear by heart pounding in my chest and my pulse krumping in my throat.
After several unsuccessful attempts at napping away the afternoon I lay in front of the television, unaware of what was on. I could feel my thoughts racing and was happy to be unaware of what they were. I believed that if I were to tune in they would only compound my unhappiness and challenge me to break a promise I had made earlier in the day.
At 7pm I trekked downstairs for dinner. Sitting at the table I felt like such a fraud as Gma checked my roster and rhetorically asked if I started night duty tomorrow. I couldn't lie - it was right there in black and white. I grunted something and went back to my dinner. It was at that point that the magnitude of the bomb I was going to have to drop on them hit me. Perhaps not the initial shock, but the aftermath is not something that I want to know about.
I potentially have one night left to be in control, yet I am seemingly unphased by the enormity that I know tomorrow will bring. Instead of clawing my face off or planning my runaway, I have been bizarrely methodical and organised. I wrapped baby presents for my boss, sewed a button onto my pants purely for fashion purposes, made lists of things as if I am going on school camp and spent God knows how long in front of the mirror examining my hair - the colour, style, brushing it obsessively and snipping away individual stands that have now split.
Now, as my exhaustion catches up with me I am considering going to bed. It is this proposition that reminds me of being a little girl on Christmas Eve and trying desperately to go to sleep so the darkened hours would fly by allowing Christmas morning to come faster. Tomorrow is far from Christmas, it's not something that I want but deep down know that I need, but I don't want to allow it to come before I'm ready. That is, if I ever will be?

I am trying desperately to stay afloat in what has become an ocean of hopelessness. In doing so I am becoming increasingly sure that my only life buoy in sight is one made of lead; designed to pull me under quicker than my energy takes to fade. I can see it in my future, and am now swimming towards it with my eyes on the prize; calm and feeling ironically, in control.

Soul Secrets

This may very well be my favourite Postsecret video by far. There were so many secrets that made my heart scream "MINE!" You can watch it here.

Under My Bed.

When I was little I spent a lot, perhaps a little too much time under my bed. I felt safe under there, as if it was as far away from reality as I could get and a place where no one could ever find me and drag me out again. I'm sure my parents knew where I was but they never pulled me out, but waited for me to appear on my own accord. It was a good place to hide, and only this evening I reminded myself of this.
Trying to win a now lost case, I burst into tears as soon as I was out of the line of sight of others and shut myself in my room preparing for the flood of tears that followed. I had forgotten what crying felt like; how the frames of my glasses filled with a mixture of tears and mascara, make-up dripped off my face like milk from dirty cereal bowls and my lungs forgot how to breathe leaving me gasping for breath.
Finally, it all subsided and I was left with burning eyes, a dripping nose and the taste of salty water in the back of my throat. I turned off the lights leaving only the fairy lights of my Eiffel Tower aglow and sprawled across the carpet in near darkness. After another series of tears and deciding the carpet smelt like the vacuum cleaner, I instinctively crawled into the space under my bed. There wasn't as much room as I remembered and the company of dolls houses had been replaced with a well-travelled suitcase, but it felt exactly how it used to; safe. I felt that if the world came crashing down or if the noise in my head got all too much, I had found my refuge. I will make a note of that.