mymadgirlslovesong-blog - Tumblr blog

[mymadgirlslovesong-blog]

-38 degrees

I can't feel the cold Everything outside of my heart is numb I sit at the table with wine And cope And forget And run the fuck away Glass after glass smoke after smoke If only I could turn to smoke Like each moment passing I forget it all Under these conditions Being told what happened Like I was drunk Like it wasn't me who did this Like I came to With blood on my hands Like I'm facing the executioners Guns

[mymadgirlslovesong-blog]

Many faces of my depression/anxiety/insomnia

[mymadgirlslovesong-blog]

Blah blah blah Same fucking. Can't even finish that sentence Same fucking darkness Over my shoulder Clouding my vision With those demons, I'm a cliche Like Prozac nation Like the (non) virgin suicides Another poor girl gone too soon Those voices You don't got anything left Just fucking jump Just take those pills and sleep And the world will fall away And it'll be a nightmare Ending finally Twitch twitching twitching Biting gnawing chewing my lips Grinding Teeth Until they are moving Moved totally around my jaw This chewing has ruined This smile What fucking smile What is there to smile about Nothing so I gotta, I gotta mask this This inside, this outside Like I'm rotting from the inside out I hide behind these ragged Strands of broken golden blonde My face Is full of shadows, pockets Of dark Eyes so sunken and surrounded By circles of black From sobbing Lamenting my sanity My beauty My voice lost From throwing up From pacing the apartment sleepless Restless Chain smoking Shaking and clawing at This unrecognizable woman looking Back at me Fuck you stranger How did you let it come to this

[mymadgirlslovesong-blog]

[mymadgirlslovesong-blog]

With me, the present is forever, and forever is always shifting, flowing, melting. This second is life. And when it is gone it is dead. But you can’t start over with each new second. You have to judge by what is dead. It’s like quicksand… hopeless from the start. A story, a picture, can renew sensation a little, but not enough, not enough. Nothing is real except the present, and already, I feel the weight of centuries smothering me. Some girl a hundred years ago once lived as I do. And she is dead. I am the present, but I know I, too, will pass. The high moment, the burning flash, come and are gone, continuous quicksand. And I don’t want to die.

Sylvia Plath, unabridged journals

[mymadgirlslovesong-blog]

How I feel sometimes about my Weekly psych appointment. Waiting in the waiting room to start.

[mymadgirlslovesong-blog]

From march 13 2013

My depression is Feeling fearless sometimes but Being scared most of the time or crying for no reason, or every reason Feeling like I gotta be alone or that Sometimes I hate this world Bed is where I need to be Hiding But sleep is impossible without meds Life is impossible without meds It's feeling trapped Restless sleepless tired Terrified and angry, raging Twisting in the gut Tightness in my chest I fucking Hate this world Scared of it more often than not When I'm happy It crashes Like I can't go up and stay there without a hideous explosive crash getting triggered by something By a smell a light a sight A song A note Notes to myself to be happy To remember this happiness, I wrote to myself: don't let it go Like a letter from a stranger From a dream That different me from the past From that lost moment When for a second I was happy And hopeful

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16 selfies, living with depression

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Reach out

[mymadgirlslovesong-blog]

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my lids and all is born again. (I think I made you up inside my head.) The stars go waltzing out in blue and red, And arbitrary darkness gallops in: I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane. (I think I made you up inside my head.) God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade: Exit seraphim and Satan's men: I shut my eyes and the world drops dead. I fancied you'd return the way you said, But I grow old and I forget your name. (I think I made you up inside my head.) I should have loved a thunderbird instead; At least when spring comes they roar back again. I shut my eyes and the world drops dead. (I think I made you up inside my head.)

Sylvia Plath, mad girl's love song