I laugh more often now, I cry more often now, I am more me.

Obsessions

What's taken over my mind?
What's taken over my body?
What's taken over my sanity?
Where have I gone?

Think, think, think, just one more time.
Do, do, do, just one more time.

It hurts me, it attacks me, it won't let me go.
Has a grip around my head, which gets stronger and stronger, whilst I get weaker and weaker.

Think, think, think, just one more time.
Do, do, do, just one more time.

Just one more time, just check again.
just one time.
Then another and another and another..........

How can I switch my brain off?
How can I stop this torture?
Let me go.
Let me relax.
Show me a way.

This way and that way, just one more time.
My head is going to explode.
It can't take any more, but it just carries on.

Obsessions, compulsions, the mind is going haywire.
I can't think properly, can't act properly, something else has taken over.

Life carries on

Go around the corner, Take a look around.
Don't be scared at what you see, Just try to carry on.

Go to the bottom of the hill and start to climb.
Be brave and bold and come out of your hole, nobody is going to hurt you and nobody is going to let you down.

Carry on walking you'll get there soon.
The peak is just ahead.
What's wrong, what's happening?
Why can't I get there?
Why can't I breathe?
Why can't I climb the rest of the way like I started?
Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts
driving me mad!
Where have I gone?
Where is my face?
Where is the respect for myself?
Where is my courage?
Where am I?

I'm going back into my safe, warm, protecting shelter.
A little shelter I once built to help me to survive and to protect myself.
Come on, come on out of there.
Nobody will hurt you.

I can't come out there's too much hurt.
Too much harm, too much noise too much violence.
Death, death death!

It hurts, it always hurts.
I can't take it any longer.
The violence, the anguish, the uncertainty, the screaming, the hell of it all.
Where are you all? Why is nobody here to help?
Where has my life gone?

Why did you do it and pretend everything was fine?
Why did you bully us?
Why did you hurt us?
Why did you throw us across our rooms?
Why did you ignore us?
Why did you treat us like dirt?
Why did you always lose control?
Why did you never think of later?
Why did you never think of us?
I only ever wanted to be loved.

Come on, climb up this hill.
You haven't got far to go.
Don't stop before you get to the top.
Carry on walking and ignore the paths, which want to take you elsewhere.
You'll make it if you try.
Look at what you left behind and let go.
Don't carry on holding on to things which will only hurt you.

Stop looking for things which used to be there.
Look into the future.
Look into the faces of people who love you who respect you and who need you.
You don't need to be constantly reassured.
Today you are loved for who you are and not for who you were.

Carry on walking and ignore the thoughts inside your head.
Don't listen and keep your head up high.
They only want to carry on hurting you, to demoralise you, make you hate yourself, so others can't love you.
It doesn't work though, because your friends still love you.
Only you can't love yourself.

Come on you've nearly made it.
The past doesn't count any more.
Come out of your shelter and feel the sunshine on your skin.
The pure air, the flowers around you, the world as it really is and not the world that was there so many years ago.
Life is worth living.
Let go and climb to the top of the hill.
Take a look at what you've achieved!

Poem by Jeannie

Words are a sawed off shotgun

Radiohead - Jigsaw Falling Into Place

Harvie Krumpet

Deerhoof - the perfect me

Bright Eyes - First Day of my Life

"O amor romântico é como um traje, que, como não é eterno, dura tanto quanto dura; e, em breve, sob a veste do ideal que formámos, que se esfacela, surge o corpo real da pessoa humana, em que o vestimos. O amor romântico, portanto, é um caminho de desilusão. Só o não é quando a desilusão, aceite desde o príncipio, decide variar de ideal constantemente, tecer constantemente, nas oficinas da alma, novos trajes, com que constantemente se renove o aspecto da criatura, por eles vestida."

Livro do Desassossego, Bernardo Soares (semi heterónimo de Fernando Pessoa)