Monthly Archives: November 2015


“I’m doing better,” she thought, “things are finally looking up.”

But how many times had she thought this before, only to have her entire world to crumble beneath her. 

Over and over again, she would become crushed by the harsh realities of her illnesses.

This fear, you could call it, brought her down unknowingly. 

So was she really okay? 

Could she do this? 

Years had passed and she just got worse and worse. She did learn to cope better, but things still tended to go south for her, often. 

She was a new person now. A better one, but still with some instabilities. 

And those little instabilities? You don’t understand the impact they could have. 


The Cold Dark Nights 

For some reason, the nights were darker and colder than usual.

She felt ever so alone. 

Depression snuck up on her and suffocated her unmercilessly. 

There was no love.

As far as she was concerned, she was worthless; not to mention a waste of energy, time and money. 

Her soul was draining. 

But only in the nights would life become so dark and cold. 

Days were generally fine.

But how her head and heart ached by the night time. 

Dreams crumbled beneath her. 

And then just like that, the following day, she rebuilt herself. 

F u c k 

Loneliness and emptiness. 

How cold it all feels. 

Emotions are there, but words go unsaid.

Intimacy lacking. 

It’s everything she didn’t want it to turn out to be. 

A Letter To My Psychiatrist

Two years ago, I made a move to the big city lights, something I had always wanted to do. I thought I was okay, but little did I know, I was on an unsafe prescription drug cocktail. When I moved here, I started to notice that the depression that had consumed my soul in the past was still an unwelcome presence in my life.  Panic attacks became more and more frequent and I felt as though I was losing my mind entirely. Hell, maybe I was. After all, I refused to leave the house at that time in my life. I soon realised I needed medical help, and I needed it badly. 

This is where Dr V. came into my life. 

He was recommended by my GP who is a lovely woman, but sadly I distrusted psychiatrists after what I’d been through. Much to my delight – he was and is not like the others. 

So I’ve decided to write a letter of appreciation, dedicated to Dr V.
To Dr V.,

I want to start this letter by expressing how truly thankful I am for everything you have done for me. Without you, I don’t know where I would be mental health wise today. 

To be brutally honest, you saved my life. 

I could feel myself fading away in every aspect of the word.  I didn’t want to live anymore. I couldn’t live like a normal person. I thought my life would forever be Bipolar Episodes and fainting without any answer as to why. 

You took me off all those horrid drugs and spoke to me like a human being. Something the others didn’t do.

You convinced me to take up therapy which would, as I later found out, change my mindset on life completely. 

You have a laugh with me and treat me like your equal, and that’s how it should be. 

You cleared up what was really going on in my mind by giving me the diagnosis of Panic Disorder. That’s when everything started to make sense again. 

So I just wanted to say thank you, and I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. 

Kind Regards, 



And amongst the ever-so dark abyss, she saw a glimmer of light shining through. 

The light, though small, brightened up the abyss; and at last she could see it for what it really was. 

Worthlessness. Heartache. Hatred. Paranoia. 

In a nutshell, the darkness was depression, and though it had been overwhelming – that little light showed her that her thoughts were not okay, and that she needed to fix that. 

Sexual Thoughts

My mind wants my body ravaged; in a very sexual manner. 
Touching, teasing, pleasing – I want it all. 

Stripping and spanking. 


Thoughts run rampant, all of which are of a sexual nature, and oh, how they make me feel alive. 

Take Off

For once in my life, I gotta take off.

It’s been years and years of treatment now.  I’m going to be totally honest in this post and I’m sorry if it triggers anyone but I need to do this. 
I was born with bipolar, and then I later found out I was also born with endometriosis. 

My life has been a series of mistakes that made me who I am today, as well as a lot of unfortunate circumstances. 

Despite this, I push through. 

I can’t tell you how often my mind switches and makes me want to die. I plot and I plan and I plea to leave this planet. 

When I was raped, my world was flipped upside down. I didn’t eat or sleep for days. All I did was cry and numb the pain with weed. 

I sought counselling and it helped so much but I still find myself feeling guilty for being raped. Now imagine that – I was the one who had my soul crushed and my body violated, yet I feel guilty for being in that position to start with. 

I numb the pain still. I fill the void in my heart by finding people to love me. I smoke. I wish it could just go away, but it never will. And I can’t even fucking explain how much it hurts me. 

I continually put myself in intense situations that there’s no escape from. I don’t know why I do this. Perhaps I’m just wasting time to feel better. 

But it always comes back to haunt me in the end. 

I think it’s time I turn over a new leaf. 

I just don’t know how to do that without completely taking off.