I keep on searching through the mire the moil for a heart of gold
A beautiful soul who will elevate me who will transform me
To fall in love to connect spiritually with a charismatic man of my dreams
In the purgatory of my depression in my loneliness i never give up hope
This man exists in my vast imagination
He has flowing dark brown hair
Blue eyes like the ocean that are piecing that gaze into the windows of my soul without fear or artifice
He has a immaculate iridescent effusive smile
He laughs at my jokes and brings me joy with his amenable personality
He smiles frequently has no qualms about being vulnerable or earnest
His warm ebullient personality allows me to be open to confess my struggles with anxiety with depression
When i break down and cry talking about my depression he hugs me intensely he makes me feel like a women a human being that’s loved
This man with a heart of gold exist somewhere in this vast metropolis
He surely resides on this planet hopefully fortuitously our stars will cross
I want to taste his honeyed luscious lips
I want to feel the warmth of his body i want to experience the sublimity of physical intimacy i want his love
Its fast approaching midnight my body is weary my eyes are drowsy. I am wearing my silky crimson jimjams which i typically wear when the British climate becomes more clement and not so stiflingly humid. My anxiety has dissipated as i sense the serene effects of the cannabis i inhaled minutes ago. With my body relaxed i can safety fall asleep into a deep subconscious sleep. Hopefully during my protracted sleep no more nightmares that I have been experiencing for the past 2 weeks. Night after night after a few hours of sleep I awoken with sweaty anxiety riddled body suffering from a horrendous nightmare. The consequences of a bad dream is it exacerbates my anxiety precludes from sleeping and leaves me a quivering nervous wreck unable to sleep or safely vacate my room.
I lay my stoned head that’s swimming with a thousand million thoughts on my soft black pillow. Gazing at my ceiling as my neurotic mind pulsates with thoughts of anxiety of death of love. I close my heavy eyes and for a few minutes hallucinate a psychedelic array of colours as i drift into a sanguine mediative state. For once in my wretched life I experience the nirvana of serenity with the aid of a psychoactive elicit narcotic. My languid body gravitates from a conscious state into a subconscious dream world.
Lost in a vivid dream that seems so real i open my eyes. There is black everywhere no light no colour in this marooned land. I walk with trepidation i walk lethargically barely able to lift my legs that feel like blocks of concrete. Then suddenly this nebulous locale dramatically changes suddenly i am engulfed in a vast infinite sea of mirrors. Some of these mirrors are cracked some are perfect immaculate designed mirrors that gleam. As far as my eyes can fathom there’s a vast sprawl of mirrors a house of mirrors. My anxiety intensifies then there’s a beam of blinding light shone onto my scrawny body. It appeared abruptly like a fluorescent stage light my body is now encumbered with panic with disquietude. I don’t know where i am am I awake am I being tortured my a assailant am I a prisoner in a unknown location. Then I look at the mirrors which change every few seconds writing appears on the mirror. Words such as freak ugly loser deformed worthless unlovable are imprinted on the vast array of mirrors in this house of horror in the unescapable house of mirrors.
Then by ghastly deformed face is magnified on the mirrors again the mirror reflection keeps on changing rapidly. First it my blood shot green eyes that are displayed on a million cracked incandescent mirrors that besiege my body. The mirrors are coming closer to me the claustrophobia has set in as the walls of this dreaded house of mirrors. Then the image changes once again this time its my horrid gnarled smile with my crocked teeth magnified on a infinite mirrors that surrounds me. Tears flow down my face i am no longer standing I collapse to the floor holding my head in my hands shacking back and forth wanting the psychological torture to end. I cant look away from the car crash of my ravaged face my tombstone teeth that appear more unsightly as they are exhibited on the gleaming screens.
I cry then I scream with a bellow of anguish crying out to be emancipated form this purgatory. Every few seconds the grotesque image alters occasionally focusing on my flat featureless body. Then to my horror i am naked my clothing has been removed by some malevolent malicious demon that keeping me prisoner in this location. I cant escape this nightmare i close my eyes I’m still here being forced to catch a sight of my pale emaciated body unobscured by clothing. I see all the cracks all the scars that are rendered on my arms. I glimpse my flat petite breasts that are mere molehills looking like a pair of painkiller pills on a ironing board. The horror the horror of it all no escape no assuagement from this hell. I’m on the floor crying profusely shacking shivering breathing hysterically make it stop end the pain end the nightmare i forlornly scream into the abyss.
The scene of this room changes once again now the hall of infinite mirrors that engulf me is altered with a thousands cold faces swarm my body. They are laughing at my naked body pointing at laughing derisively some faces are looking on with castigating expressions. Other faces are repulsed by my body with horror stricken faces. The entire cluster of individuals starts to chant freak freak freak freak. The chant grows louder and louder as the chant becomes more viscous. The cruelty the inhumanity to me is apparent on their faces I’m not a human to them I’m a subhuman freak. They circulate my shivering body getting closer they scream out freak freak some as laughing others are pointing at chastising the horror show of my naked porcelain body.
The environment once more transmogrifies I’m in a different setting a familiar location its my bedroom. No mirrors here just my bed my tv my pink teddy bear for comfort. I am fully conscious after witnessing a harrowing nightmares in which my repressed fears were brought to the surface in a evocative nightmare. I’m terrified to fall back to sleep not wanting to experience another ordeal. This nightmare effected me profoundly leaving me paralysed with anxiety. My body is shacking i hold by pink teddy bear that’s a vestige of my childhood. I turn on the big light I want some comfort something to mitigate the fear that’s pulsating in my blood stream. The recurring nightmare of the house of mirrors occurs in my dreamworld at least once a month. This recurring dream usually occurs after i have a panic attack or another injurious anxiety attack in pubic. For the nest few days i be unable to sleep its another bout of insomnia which is awaiting me. Its only 3:00 am its the apex of the night the streets are hauntingly silent i turn on my speakers needing to hear a mollifying sound that will calm me down. For hours i play music from my favourite video from YouTube the last of us as i rock back and forth on the edge of my bed. At least I’m free from the nightmare of the house of mirrors but i have to endure to abide the nightmare of being me of being afflicted with a social anxiety disorder and body dysmorphia
Mother why have you forsaken me
I was only 13 you left my life forever
Suicide that my fragile heart shattered irrecoverably damaged
I cried tears of rage night after night in the aftermath of your untimely demise
God why have you let this tragedy transpire
Why didn’t you shelter my mother from the tumultuous storms of her emotional torment
Why didn’t you assuage her pain with comfort
Why did you let this happen what benevolent omnipotent being would let a mother kill herself at such a tender age
The rage hasn’t abated its a rage at god at my mother
I feel robbed of the love she would have bestowed on me
Growing up with my struggles without the radiance of her maternal love
My mothers harrowing suicide has scared forever
I keep a shrine to my mum in my bedroom
Once a month i dedicate a night where i compose poetry
Listen to music that evokes memories of my mum and look at a collection of photographs of my mum ravishingly beautiful photogenic face
On these special nights of mournful remembrance in which with a tsunami of tears I reminisce of the fading memories and dream of seeing her face feeling here hug and kiss me for one last time
Mental illness runs in my family my mum suffered from severe depression her entire adult life. My mum dealt with her terminal depression in a english women by never divulging her emotional torture to anybody. She was a stereotypical english women who was emotional repressed who was unable to be candid about her suicidal inclinations. I have inherited these detrimental personality traits from my mum. I have endured since i was 13 deep depression i also suffer from a paralysing social anxiety a negative attribute my deeply introverted father has. In my family we never communicated emotionally even though i had two loving affectionate parents who were demonstrative effusive in showing their love for me.
When i was 13 years old in my formative teenage years a traumatic life altering event befall our family. Me and my accountant father were driving home from my cello lesson and arrived atour suburban residence and discovered the grisly sight of my mums body hanging from the ceiling. My mum had killed herself and left only a succinctly worded suicide note where she elucidated her reasons why she committed suicide. It was a devastating moment that forever altered my perceptive on life on God on myself. After that day i became severely depressed developed long term anxiety issues began to suffer from habitual panic attacks and the genesis of my body dysmorphia occurred after the tragic death of my mum at the tender age of 38. Following her suicide i distanced myself from my father lived in the sanctuary of my room when i was home. We rarely conversed other than banal small talk we never dared to open up the wounds of my mums untimely suicide. Like a prototypical middle class middle England family we repressed our pain.
Its been nearly 10 years since that tumultuous day when my mum killed herself. Since then i have progressed from a neurotic anxiety riddled teenager into a troubled adult with untreated unexpressed psychosis and disorders. The anxiety has exacerbated into a detrimental social phobia. The depression is metastasised into daily sick suicidal fantasises. Like my mum i have refrained from confiding with a friend or seeking the ameliorating help of a professional therapist. I have hidden suppressed my mental illnesses the fear of being vulnerable the terrifying fear of being judged by another person. Hence i put on this veneer of normality hiding my crippling perennial psychological problems. I halve inherited my mums introverted propensities to never cry in public to exist in private inner world of emotional torment.
I muse daily on killing myself in my overactive imagination. Everyday its a new manner of death every conceivable iteration i ponder. Whether its a drug overdose to the harrowing hanging slitting of my wrists and severing a vital artery. I think about jumping from a block flats and letting my emaciated body get crushed on the concrete floor. I ruminate whether or not i will leave a note a poem what i would say in this verbose or succinctly worded suicide creation. On numerous moments when the idea of suicide has seen to me alluring i have composed a variety of poems essays in which i delineate the reasons why I want to end my life prematurely. These are dark desolate moments in my lonely life when the only escape from the immiseration of my pathetic life is to cease existing.
One time when i cut myself in a desperate act of a self harm on my underarm to feel some pain. I decided with my inhibitions loosened from devouring copious amounts of alcohol to call the Salvation Army suicide number. I spoke with a kind softly spoken serene women who dissuaded me from slashing my wrists. This is the only instance i ever openly talked to another soul about my oppressive depression that’s negatively impacted every facet of my life. It wasn’t a genuine suicide attempt it was though a forlorn cry for help in the early hours of a Saturday morning. I cried during and after this laconic phone conversation which lasted a mere 5 minutes. The aftermath of this interaction was a feeling of elation to unburden myself from the shackles of my emotional repression. To finally divulge my darkest secrets to a faceless compassionate stranger left me feeling euphoric even with the tears the snot falling down my nose. With my lacerated arms i had a moment when I acknowledged to another person my illness i was vulnerable with the help of alcohol.
However subsequent after that potential momentous phone conversation i fall back into my negative behavioural pattern of adopting this facade this exterior of normalcy . I reneged from disclosing my depression my anxiety to my small tribe of cohorts. I never sought out the rehabilitative help of a therapist who could improve my depression. The pain would only be unveiled on my online poems my diary entries my blog. None of my friends family work colleagues would ever be cognisant of the severity of my fragile mental state. I continued hiding my anxiety attacks my self harm my suicidal proclivities. Still i would fantasise about ending my life fantasise about the funeral. What would my father say in the eulogy would there be a profusion of tears from the funeral attendees. My perfect method of suicide I have surmised is to die from an overdose of opiate painkillers whilst listening to the soothing melancholic songs of Lana del Rey. Hearing her soothing dulcet melodic tones as I drift off into nothingness would be the perfect way to end my short lamentable life.
Some days the pain the torture the purgatory of life becomes so onerous i just want to die. In my broken mind I’m screaming end the pain end the pain fuck being alive. I cant take it anymore cant endure the loneliness the abject desolation of my forlorn existence. Walking around i utter the silent words to myself freak freak freak die you bitch when i pass strangers who cast their derisive glares at my direction. I’m screaming at myself wanting to be nothing screaming with my self loathing laments to die. These are the worst days when the dark fantasies feel so real when death is plausible to me. Everyday though even on rare days of tranquility I contemplate suicide.
After another onerous day of interacting with strangers
After another vexatious day of awkward social intercourse
After all the anxiety all the toxicity that been accumulating inside of me like a volcano
I escape to my safe space a land of immersive video games
Its a virtual universe where I’m free from all the sadness all the stress of life
My anxiety my depression evaporates temporarily as i play for hours in linear single player video games
I can not only escape the world but myself my limited introverted introspective personality and become a alter ego a id
I sit down on the edge of my bed plug in my gaming headphones and begin hours of escapist immersive gaming
My favourite game is the last of us a breathtakingly beautiful and poignant game
A game which elicits me to cry on numerous occasions
I cry on a video game when important characters die so tragically
This game is my escape my 21st century literature
I hide in the enclave of my room forgetting all the troubles of being afflicted with a variety of mental disorders
The pain of existing dissipates as i plug in the video game and lose myself in a seductive virtual landscape
These worlds are my escape that inspire and inflame my imagination
After playing a engrossing linear first player game I’m inspired to create sublime works of literature
I perpetually fantasise about meeting the man of my dreams
A man with dark brown hair with a full head of hair
A man with deep ocean blue eyes that pierce into my soul without evasion or artifice
This man has luscious sensuous lips that electrify me sexually as i kiss his succulent red lips
This is a hunger a insatiable yearning for life that remains unfulfilled
I have never had the fortitude to pursue love
Too socially awkward to be vulnerable with a divine figure of masculine perfection
I dream of falling in love i dream of having drug infused sex where my body and soul is taken too higher plains of consciousness
Its a emptiness that in my short 22 years is unrealised
I want to break the shackles of my social anxiety and overcome my demons my flaws and find the euphoria of love
I want to feast on the altar of love to taste the sumptuous fruits of spiritual love
This man exists somewhere in this vast universe
He exist in my imagination as a ideal
I want to actualise this fantasy
I want to hold his hand to feel his immaculately toned body rub against mine in a divine act of physical intimacy
I am lost in thoughts of abject despair
There is no hope anymore no reason to exist
No love on the horizon just a vast perennial loneliness
Hope has evaporated from my life leaving a noxious poison of suicidal ruminations
I have searched wandered for months looked for a sign
I yearn for a reason to carry on existing
I have visited churches been out socialising
looked for meaning for hope in exemplary works of literature in music there a sadness that will never leave me
I once once this effusive exuberant adolescence full of vivacity
Now I’m a languid lifeless sad pathetic adult living as a ghost
The colour has vanished from me i am a emaciated pallid creature waiting for the inevitable death
Soon in the next week i will end my life
I cant bear the hopelessness the emotional torture of my depression any longer
Can’t endure the alienation of my social anxiety that’s left me unable to venture outside to interact with strangers
I’m precluded from cultivating friendships due to my paralysing pernicious social anxiety disorder
I will never get better will never be emancipated from my mental illnesses i am alone in my terminal loneliness i am alone in my despair yearning for the day when i vanish into the vast nothingness and become nothing more than a sad fading memory