“Your mind can smash, but your heart won’t stop beating: I am I am I am.”
I stumbled upon this random ‘note to self’, which i’d written seven years ago today. I must have felt like some kind of possessed spirit of Sylvia Plath, or something. Granted, a far less talented version.
But those words:
“I am I am I am”.
They reminded me of how I used to genuinely frighten myself, by pouring over the poetry of Sylvia Plath, while thinking to myself: Shit. Why is it so easy to relate to this?
This is one of the many reasons I love language, I love words, and I love the lyric which can become of them. The brain strikes in tune with the impulsive heart, mind over matter, words and Biology.
Consciousness is a strange thing!
Seriously, I’ve been that excited by this Romanesco, that I even took a selfie with it! Perhaps I need to get out more…!?
It’s been a while since I have been able to write on my blog. I’m going to have to give an honest account of this. My ‘spark’ has been snuffed out, over this last year. Particularly over the past three months.
I feel alone. It’s quite sad, and scary to admit this. I feel as though I have isolated myself, far too much.
I love my friends and my family. Of course, i’d like to imagine they love me right back! I just feel sorry that if my own sadness, and mental health ailment- for wont of a better word- has affected and hurt others. Because it must be really, really damn hard, to try and get one’s head around the fact, that I have found myself on occasions, feeling so low, helpless and burdensome to all those around me, that I felt I needed to end my own life, just to put a stop to all the misery, the upset, and the ‘chaos’ I felt I was inflicting on other people.
Just by being me.
I feel like a wreck of my former self. I used to like living.
How bad to myself can I even get?
I seem to be intent on punishing myself for the hurt people have caused me, and for the hurt …
See now i’m thinking.
I am beginning to recognize that by hurting myself,
by putting myself in situations where I am vulnerable,
I only fulfill a kind of predetermined death certificate, for which, I sometimes forget my own reason to live.
This will sound ‘crazy’ to readers, i’m imagining. Of course it is completely ridiculous, in terms of logic and common sense, ‘survival of the fittest’ (and all that jazz), but for me, I can confidently suspect that I am not alone in this.
I cannot be alone in all of this turmoil.
I WILL SURVIVE.