Tulip's Tales

Your perception is your reality. Fuck off. No one has any idea what this reality is like.

This is everything and nothing, but more like nothing than anything. There is no hope, nothing left to do or say, nothing worth anything. Why continue? To have things wrecked and damaged even further? To hurt forever.

I have no control over anything - fucking life happens whether I'm here or not.

Here or not? I do control that.

Driving seemingly aimlessly around. Stop go stop go stop go. Appear normal. Crying, driving, talking, writing. Want to tell the young man at internet place how much of an impact talking to him had for me. More guilt remembering my babies; things forever missed.

The nothing and everything overwhelms my senses with memories and thoughts and feelings. I can't get everything out and not in any order just a bunch of rambling and babbling. Will anyone know what this is really like? After rage and broken hearts will the realisation come?

Prolonging the inevitable or truly wanting and needing to communicate that which will be forever silenced? Heading out knowing somewhere but not exact. Stop again, why water is any one's guess.

Nicotine, something from long ago. That other time. Nine years. Head again fucked up or just stolen innocence. Robbed.

There is no need to settle anything and I have no fear. It starts and then it ends. Between, things happen based on where you are and when, that's all. Created to be whatever someone else wants and serve needs. No longer.

Sitting staring at the trees. A few more words, forever love, sorry so sorry. Turn. Hiss. Cool.

Intense pain. My head is clouded. My eyes can see only pin pricks of life. My heart is going to implode. I cannot get my breath, there are weights in my lungs, I gasp over and over in the hopes that each will be the last but the rise and fall of my chest tells me it's not over. Carrying on and on and on. Bouncing from one edge to another, back and forth like a ball in a pinball machine. Ringing off bumpers then smashing into walls, being thrown around. Grasping at family and friends in an attempt to stabilize myself. Dragging them along without their consent.

So many relationships forever damaged through my fucked up head. Relationships that can't be mended. Actions that can never be taken back. Words that hurt far more than any slap. No one will ever forgive. When things get better no one is sure if it really is or if it's another mask. An illusion played so reality is unknown.

I crawl out of the shell, shedding it like a prosthetic skin. Discomfort. I am crippled and incapacitated, withered and grey, fingers twisted into tight balls and toes curled tightly under. Chin on chest, eyes cast downward. Withdrawn, incompetent, unable to function, bound by straps, no movement, useless. If that could be seen, would others feel differently? Would the monster be disregarded as a side effect?

No one knows me, thoughts; I don't know me. Good constantly shadowed by a fear of going back. Things done - really me or blame my head and lack of or too much of whatever? Choices made - were they mine? Use them as a crutch or live with constant guilt and loathing? Without excuse, none should have happened. I should have stopped and started and shut down but carried on.

Has it been three minutes? My head spins and I count. Click send. One, two, three. Deep breaths. Four, five, turn it up. Noisy, still conscious to hear. Why? This was supposed to be fool proof. Fuck fuck fuck fuck ... not again. Didn't do enough research?

Is there some deity intervening; are angels hovering? Perhaps. The noise is subsiding. I feel blackness settle throughout my body, the pot boiling rapidly, emotions thoughts feelings nothing.

Ripped from the womb into blinding light, unceremoniously slapped on the behind, take the first tentative breath and release a cry to announce arrival. Lying spent, inflicting abuse on my loves, here.

Be thankful. Fuck off. Anger and rage streaming through my blood. Helped back into my spot while flailing and having a tantrum. No miracles, just simple physics. Needed to concentrate to lungs.

Rational. There is nothing to do. No one cares.

Breathe in. Breathe out.