An Evening Of Fear And Loathing Part 2

Its 7 o’clock in the evening my body is pulsating with anxiety is i am mentally preparing for a date with Kyle. I have masked my glaring imperfections on my porcelain face by putting on my female war paint. I have only an hour before I rendezvous with my date with whom I’ve only corresponded with on instagram and tinder. Its been 6 months of daily interactions in which time we have formed a intimate connection. We became acquainted when he liked each other’s profile photo on tinder then slowly we flirted we shared information about each other. I was impressed with Kyle with the collection of images he displayed on tinder on his instagram. Theres no egoistical selfies in which he displays his immaculate muscular torso. There’s a absence of narcissistic photographs just a collage of demure images of his gorgeous face. Kyle enjoys taken photos of his art of his dog its what attracted me to him. His personality his view of himself appears to be the anthesis of the typical macho man on tinder or instagram looking for sex or a long term partner.

Kyle had been pleading with me for months to go on a casual no strings attached date with no pressure. Time and time again i had declined i was reticent to go out to meet this fantasy of a man in the flesh. The same neurotic thoughts circulated in my mind what if he thought i was ugly or worse boring. I also declined to partake in a evening of culinary delights and loquacious conversation with Kyle largely due to my crippling social anxiety which precludes from living a full rich social life. I made excuses saying i was working I used my university studies as a legitimate excuse as to why i was so hesitant to meet a man whom i was enamoured with. When i was repeatedly declining Kyle kind invitation i was desperate to overcome my fears my anxiety and go on a date with this photogenic chiselled creature. I wanted to finally go on a date to a fall in love to have euphoric sex with a perfect charming man.

The brutal reality of venturing outside going on a date is that there is a strong chance of me suffering another harrowing panic attack from the intense anxiety of the uncomfortable uncertain social setting. Even if I avoided a panic attack it would be a torturous experience with anxiety with a paranoia with the fear the disquietude of being on a date with Kyle. However the desire for love to end the alienation of being afflicted with a social anxiety body dysmorphia and long term depression is why I tentatively accepted this casual date in a quaint local Italian restaurant.

Before i departed from my room i laid on my bed smoked a cannabis joint and listened to calming classical piano music by Chopin. Inhaling this psychoactive mind altering substance and absorbing the melancholic music assuaged my fears and tranquillised briefly my nerves. I laid with my eyes fixed on the ivory ceiling in a mediative state. Then after 20 minutes of being stoned laying on my back i arose from my bed to clothe my scrawny body in the immodest black maxi dress which shows off my curves. Then i place my black ankle boots that perfectly complement my dress perfectly. I got out my large wall mirror which i had kept in my closet from the trauma of seeing my hideous deformed face. Then I applied another layer of seductive red lipstick and felt for once vaguely attractive. In my stoned spaced out mind I was careful to not spend too long scrutinising my appearance in the mirror. Its a momentary glance to check that everything was okay that my lipstick my makeup masked the blemishes the imperfections on my face. Even though it gave me a shudder of revulsion to look at myself i loved the ensemble of low cut black dress and black boots that showcased my curves.

The restaurant where had decided to meet up was in close proximity to my shared student home. Approximately a leisurely 10 minute walk according to google maps on my iPhone. Its 30 minutes still the agreed upon time for our first official date commences. I receive a text message from Kyle its says ❤️🍝🥂 see you in soon. After receiving this text i nervously and instantly respond with a succinct text of 👍. Then i peceive the anxiety surge in my body as am fully cognisant of the enormity of what i am undertaken tonight. This date might be the genesis of a beautiful enduring love story or i might be overcome with anxiety i stay hidden in my room feeling asphyxiated with anxiety attack. Once again i scroll through the collection of alluring image on Kyle instagram. It doesn’t dissipate my anxiety I realise how much more bewitching Kyle is with his perfect iridescent smile that radiates a joy a lust for love. I scroll through our communications i am struck by his charm by his nonthreatening messages.

I begin to breathe heavily and frantically as the time is ticking until our date commences. I’m on my knees with my head in my hands trying diligently to recapture my composure not know I’m saying repeatedly in my head as a mantra to avert another panic attack. It works after several minutes of rocking back and forth with my head in my sweating and unable to breathe freely I recover from a minor panic attack. I then get up fix myself try to remain calm stable stay to maintain a facade of normality i try to mask the interior universe of anxiety and self loathing that threatens to thwart my future happiness. I casually stroll outside my room say goodbye to my roommates and friends Sarah and Aisha. They both hug wishing me well on my excursion into the stormy waters of dating. I feel a brief moment of solace before i leave for my first real date as a adult women. Then i say my goodbyes with a tumult of unease rumbling in my empty stomach as i walk outside the sanctuary the safety of my house to the turbulence the disorder of the outside. Tonight i will have to face my social phobia to face my debilitating fear of the fear of the unknown of people of intimacy of extensive protracted conversation with a virtual stranger.


An Evening Of Fear And Loathing Part 1

Tonight’s the night when i will force myself to overcome my fears my crippling social anxiety and go on my first date in nearly 4 years. It will be my first official date as a adult women and I’m overcome with terror and excitement at the thought on embarking on a date with a man I’ve only interacted with on tinder. My previous dates were when i was a precocious adolescent who wasn’t inflicted with a crippling social anxiety but was a shy awkward teenager. I can recall going to the cinema or bowling with teenage crushes but nothing really happened on these innocent teenage dates.

Today though at the tender age of 19 i am going on my first date in nearly 4 years. I have spent the past years never having the gumption to ask men whom I’m sexually armoured with on a date. I have lost my virginity in a handful of drunken one night stands in meaningless promiscuous sexual encounters. Now i want something real to cultivate a emotional connection with another soul that’s why i finally taken the plunge and going out facing my fears and actually going on a date.

The date is tonight i have intercommunicated with this individual who calls himself Kyle who is 21 years old. I looked at the entire gamut of his tinder and instagram photos I am enticed by his physical appearance. He wasn’t trying to hard there is no shirtless selfies no thirst trap cringe inducing photographs but casually confident images that projected to me a self assured confidence and unusual degree of earnestness. In our multitude of messaging conversations over the preceding months i built up an idea of how this man is what is personality is. He isn’t a stereotypical tinder egomaniac machismo man he appears to be a amicable kind considerate young man.

When I first set my tinder profile and uploaded a variety of my finest photographs that projected a positive image of myself to prospective male suitors i was filled with apprehension and enormous anxiety. Still the anxiety remains but i feel I have made enormous strides in overcoming my social phobia. Being on tinder has given me these moments of enormous validation of myself where men are actually attracted to me. I’ve had a horrible negative opinion on myself seeing myself as a hideously deformed freak who no man in their right man would find alluring. As well as suffering from a pernicious social anxiety i also suffer since i was a teenager from body dysmorphia. This means I have a severely altered perception of my physical attractiveness than other humans. I eschew most normal social functions never am able to peer at myself in the mirror because of how horrified i am at the ghastly image that appears in the mirror. The body dysmorphia is why I remain perennially single alone without love without sex. The thought of physical or emotional intimacy is terrifying to me to be that vulnerable with another person especially a person you have profound feelings for.

In spite of the paralysing social anxiety the self loathing the neurotic fears that circulate in my psyche I prepare myself for this date with Kyle. Kyle is a 21 year old training to be a mental health counsellor he lives within the local area of Cambridge a town where i am studying and residing. He live within 10 miles of each other so meeting up for a rendezvous is easy as he live in close proximity to each other. After many months of talking sharing photographs casual flirting talking profusely online about our interests we have finally set a date for our first physical in the flesh meeting. Tonight we will meet up at the local Italian restaurant within the Cambridge town centre. It’s a modest Italian restaurant that’s well within our price range. I a struggling student living on a meagre budget supplemented by my part time job at a local bookshop can ill afford to fork out on a lavish night out in a prestigious restaurant. Hence he agreed to meet up in this reasonable but charming Italian restaurant called Pinocchios for a night of engaging flirtatious conversation complemented with liberal quantities of alcohol.

Its 6 o’clock in the evening i am diligently getting ready for a night of possibilities. The anxiety is off the scales i can hardly breathe i am at risk of suffering another traumatic harrowing panic attack. The idea of making myself beautiful of going out into the cruel world with judgemental people with my slender body on show and having to appear interesting and charismatic to a prospective lover is filling my heart with terror with disquiet. The fear at what could transpire on this night the humiliation the possibility of a anxiety attack in public is constant. I can’t rid myself of the fear the loathing that is pulsating in my neurotic consciousness as I soak my homely disfigured body in the bath. I have meticulously prepared the appropriate attire that i will clothe my body in. I purchased several week ago a sender low cut black maxi dress which i purchased in the unlikely scenario of me going out on a date. Tonight I will wear this alluring beguiling dress that hopefully will convince Kyle that i am a beautiful women. Hopefully he will look past all my glaring physical imperfections and see this beguiling dress.

I remove my body out of the wet hot steaming bath now i am shaking with nerves barely able to walk or hold by electric toothbrush from the anxiety that’s radiating round my body. I frantically brush my teeth trying assiduously to keep my toothbrush steady in my mouth. I grimace with horror as I glimpse my gnarled visage in the bathroom mirror. This pallid ghostlike person that is looking at me fills me with loathing and disgust. I think to myself how is this person going to convince a kind interesting young man to fall in love with her. I disappear from the bathroom feeling refreshed and revitalised washing away all that filth and sickness from my body. Now i can hide myself in the fortress of my room wherein i can plaster my face in my feminine war paint in order to conceal to obscure my flaws my cracks. Hopefully with enough war paint i can by some miracle appear beautiful to Kyle.

The Dark Foreboding Forest

I saunter outside into the unknown into the dark forest
Its filled with creatures and monsters wanting to hurt me
I am paralysed with anxiety as i wander alone into the forest
The paranoia intensifies I don’t feel save her

My heart races at a accelerated pace
I am struggling to breathe my knees tremble my hands are profusely shacking
A panic permeates my entire body as i go deeper into the terrifying intimidating dark forest
I hear noises howls screeches from animals
Are threes noises in my head is it real am i losing my mind

Everyday I traverse the dark forest everyday it gets harder to meander through this maze
Sometimes i forego this treacherous journey its gets to onerous for my fragile psyche
The constant worry the relentless stress of being attacked my a strange monster from the depths of the dark forest
Will i make it out alive today will i suffer a attack from a malevolent monster

I tremble as I wander through the dark paths of this forest
As i get deeper into the centre the light fades i cant see where I’m going
The fear escalates there’s nobody to guide me to assuage my nervousness
I’m all alone travelling through the dark forest no calm voice no shoulder to cry on just me petrified of the monsters that dwell in this dark forest

The Ecstasy Of Self Harm

Its a Sunday evening i am laying on my black and white duvet gazing at the white featureless ceiling preparing my body and soul for a evening of blissful masochism. Its been months since my last glorious self harm session. I have been lacerating my under arm for years since i was 14 years old. The aftermath of my mothers suicide at the tender age of 13 left me severely depressed almost to the point where i was contemplating suicide and emulate my mums suicide. Self harm was a escape from all that pent up sadness all the anger all the desolation of being a teenager who lost her mother. I would cut my arms with a dangerous sharp piece of glass. Cutting my arms from the same exact piece of glass for years a. As i cut into my arms with reckless teenage enthusiasm i felt waves of euphoria that permeates throughout my angst ridden teenage body. I through this deleterious action was able to purge all this negativity all the anxiety all the depression.

Rather than divulge my darkest secrets to a therapist of a close confidant i opted to permanently scar my arms my cutting deep as a profusion of blood flowed as i cut. After a night of privately cutting my arms after the bliss had worn away i had to keep this symptom of a untreated disorder a secret. I would spend weeks wearing longs sleeve shirts never bearing my arms to anybody never being vulnerable. This injurious habit remained a secret i only expressed why i commit self mutilation through unpublished poetry and short stories.

Today as the sunsets on a sweltering June evening in a uncharacteristically hot english Sunday i am preparing to once again cut and severe my arms as a way of purging all this toxic anxiety from my adult body. I am 18 now a university student i have preserved this dangerous habit of self mutilation from my tumultuous adolescence into the alienation of my adult life. I have locked the doors of my gothic bedroom now i am safe and secure to begin the action of self harm. All week as I have been attending university classes and going to work at the local bookstore which supplement the exorbitant cost of my university education. The stress the suicidal thoughts have been buildings to today when i need to extricate the anxiety the depression from my emaciated body.

Two weeks ago i suffered a harrowing panic attack on my journey to the dentist it was traumatic and emotionally scaring. Since than I have been trapped in a vicious cycle of a severe anxiety and escalating depression. I have nobody i feel i can safety confess or unload my thoughts to. I have student friends and housemates which i am close to put never would i reveal my battle with mental illness and disturbing habit of self harm. Today i need to expunge the pain the disquietude from my body and feel the pure ecstasy of self harm.

I lock the door double check now I’m certain it’s locked tight and i can began this ritualistic masochistic act. I have a itinerary of self harm that I meticulously carry out its the same tasks I perform since i was a precocious teenager suffering from depression and alienation. Firstly i pour a shot of American bourbon whisky into a tumbler glass. I ebulliently devour the shot of this delectable whisky that sends my head spinning.

Then i begin to play the music in my headphones i am paranoid my housemates will realise I’m playing music too loudly and enquire what I’m doing in the privacy of my sanctuary. The music i play at a thunderous almost deafening volume is a collection of meditative modern electronic music. The trippy sounds of tangerine dream reverberate in my consciousness. I have taken to play electronic ambient psychedelic music as i disfigure my once unblemished arms.

With the serene music pulsating in my ear drums i collapse to the floor and sitting with my legs crossed in a mediative position. I am sitting proximate to my dead mothers shrine which is situated on the antique chester draw. I mediate with the music and the beguiling effects of the alcohol that incrementally alters my perception of reality. After approximately 10 minutes of intense mediation in which i am preparing myself for the mutilation ceremony i get up roll a joint of cannabis. I smoke this big fat luscious cannabis joint with youthful exuberance. The hallucinogenic cannabis fills my lungs and transforms my mind my mood. This consciousness changing substance elevates me the anxiety dissipates in me i am in nirvana i am floating in the sea of tranquility.

Then with my stoned spaced out body i get up walk over to my chester draws look with haunted sadness at the assemblage of my mums photographs a single tear flows down my face. Then i gather myself wipe the fear from my porcelain face. I reach into the draw garb a maliciously sharp piece of broken glass. Its the same exact piece of broken glass that i used for my first foray into the ecstasy of self harm. I look at with a gleam in my eye i am salivating with anticipation at the thought of another session of cutting my arms.

My body is intoxicated with the brew of alcohol and psychoactive cannabis. I am stoned slightly drunk from a few shots of whisky before I commence the cutting i hit another shot of bourbon whisky. Another hit my head is spinning i am lost in a alcohol dreamland. I then get down on the floor with the tranquillising electronic music blaring in my ears and garb hold of the piece of glass. My right arm is shacking i struggle to keep the glass in my hand. I compose my body which is pulsating with adrenaline i garb hold of the glass.

Then I slowly and methodically started to lacerate my underarm with the piercing glass blade. My mind is transformed into a elated state as i watch the blood flow from the deep cuts. There’s no pain no sadness no despair as the anxiety is purged from my body. Again i strike my underarm with cut after cut laceration after laceration a profusion of blood is flowing from my arm. I feel for once alive i am feeling my pain i am a human a sentient being not numbing or repressing my pain but letting it flow from my body. This is euphoria this is a release of anxiety from my body its a cathartic experience a almost transcendental religious experience.

The panic attacks the body dysmorphia the depression the social anxiety all that pent up toxicity is expunged from my body. For once for a night i am emancipated from all the melancholy the torment of being me. I look at the wounds i take the blood run my right arm across the wounds and smear the blood on my face. I am lost in the moment in the exaltation of self mutilation with the aid of various chemicals that numb my body to the pain. For hours i lay on the floor in a mediative serene state listening to music feelings the pleasure of a night of cutting. Tomorrow the pleasure will be replaced by the excruciating physical pain that will parallel my emotional pain. However tonight the torture of being a alienated mentally ill women is replaced by the pure joy of self harm. Self harming my arms is a twisted sick for of therapy where i purge my body I let go of the pain. I’m too emotional repressed too unable to be emotionally vulnerable to another soul hence i commit physical harm on my scared body.

The next day I awake with my arms seething in agony. The pain is torturous i can hardly move Its that bad. I walk to the bathroom with weariness where i look at the grotesque sight on my left and right arm. Arms that are hideous that reflect how i see myself on the inside. On the inside I am a ugly deformed freak who is not fit to be loved who is barely human. Now the pain the ghastly sight of these scars are a illustration of my depression my self loathing.

In the bathroom i gently apply disinfectant to the multitude if lacerations. There’s a serous risk of these wounds becoming infected they are deep cuts that need to be adequately treated. The disinfectant is severely painful as I apply with tissue paper . Still the pain is intense it will though be a reminder of the pain of being me . I have marked branded my body with my untreated undiagnosed mental illness. I diligently make sure my arms are covered at all times wearing long sleeved shirts never baring my wounds to anybody. I hide my pain my self harm only i get to view these wounds only i will understand whats its like to be affected with a crippling anxiety disorder and depression.

Fucked Up In The Head

I’m damaged I’m broken I’m so fucked up in the head
I hear voices they scream they bellow at me
They call me ugly they call me a bitch
These voices make me paranoid they tear me apart

In public I’m so anxiety ridden i suffer from a panic attacks
I feel so intensely self conscious i feel people’s judgmental cold eyes on me at all times
They are laughing at me casting derisive opinions on my unappealing physical appearance
I don’t feel safe and secure around people i am in a perpetual state of panic i long to be alone in the sanctuary of my humble abode

I’m fucked i will never be free from this pernicious illness of social anxiety and paralysing body dysmorphia
I gaze in the mirror and see a deformed freak with a grotesque face
My skin makes me shiver and crawl on the inside
I feel sick living in this broken ravaged body and this defective mind

I will never have a boyfriend
Never get to experience the nirvana of falling in love
I am cursed to exist with acute social phobia that precludes me from enjoying the luscious fruits of love
No sex no love no travelling around the world just agonising never ending anxiety

Blood On The Floor

I took a deep laceration this time
There’s a profusion if blood that’s emanated from my arms
The wound is deep it might scar it might require disinfectant to adequately heal
The dangerously sharp shade of glass has left me in ecstasy tonight

Tomorrow and for days i will be paralysed with excruciating agonising pain
The pain the wounds are a glaring reminder of my untreated mental illness my depression
I will wear long sleeved shirts for weeks to conceal my shame my mutilated arms
Friends will be completely unaware of my condition my predilection to self harm

I look at the wooden floor that where there is droplets of blood
I need to hide the evidence of my masochistic deleterious act
Need bleach need towels to mop up the blood stains on the wooden floor
I don’t want my housemates to be worried about me

My condition my depression my self harm will remain a dark secret
I refrain from divulging my pain my peculiar habits to anybody
I know I’m ill that I’m fucked up in the head
I’m fully cognisant that one day i will arise with the desire to commit suicide one day the ecstasy of self harm wont be enough to ward of the black demon dogs of depression


Want to end it the pain of being alive is too great
Ive endure this oppressive pain for years since i was a teenager
Its not getting better the pain the melancholy has metastasised into a desire to end my life
For weeks i have been ruminating on how to commit suicide not will i kill myself

I gaze into the mirror into the window of my soul
I look at my haunted listless eyes devoid of beauty devoid of hope
I strip all my clothes off and see a gnarled hideous image of a human being
A women slowly dying from this cancer of depression that’s eating me from the inside

I am living with a radiation that’s rendered me unable to carry on
Can’t walk cant hardly breathe from a unbearable onerous depression
I never smile in public cant laugh anymore
I seldom leave my room except to eat which is a rare

I want to die to become a sad memory
My funeral will be attended by distant family members and the sparse groups of friends
I intend to kill myself in the most excruciating painful manner imaginable
I will die by hanging my body the same method of suicide my mother used