I Wished For You, Too

The years have been hard,
A dullness, a dark room without any light.

Hands always stretching out ahead, chasing,
Everything always just out of reach.

I thought of you when I needed some colour in the darkness,
A flash of hope, of what I might one day find.

I always had you in the back of my mind, a faceless silhouette,
An imaginary hand to hold, someone to have my back.

Always a hope, an imaginary person who could never exist,
A mind broken and unrepairable, always wanting the impossible.

A decade later and I found ways to light up my own self,
Ways to heal my own soul.

My imaginary person no longer a hope to be held onto,
A dream lost, acceptance and independence taking its place.

A few more years come to pass,
A complete loss of hope, of self.

A change of scenery,
A new found freedom, new beginnings.

A new person,
Appearing out of nowhere, a shock to the system.

Like a breath of fresh air, a sudden cold shower,
Life was no longer just a dim light, colours were returning.

So many words, positive and freeing,
Butterflies and rainbows and everything else in between.

Nights spent talking, sharing,
Happiness no longer seemingly out of reach.

Fate always finds a way,
Destiny, it seems, cannot be avoided.

Dream Trip

‘By the time I’m 30, I’ll be recovered enough to go to New York.’ 

I lost years of my life to mental illness, with the hope of one day being able to recover – the one consistent thought being ‘by the time I’m 30…’ By the time I’m 30, I’ll have recovered, faced my fear of flying and be taking a trip to New York City.

The trip of a lifetime, that is going to be filled with so many emotions and so much hope. 

I have the motivation and determination to fund this trip myself, however, there are many barriers in front of me. 

Every little helps.

 

Money has never been something that came to me, it is not something I have ever had a lot of access to and I have always been against the idea of doing this – but here we are. I am not expectant this will help or happen, however, with my finances as they are, my reliance is on my overdraft.

Desperate times call for desperate measures…

GoFundMe

Hope

I had a jar of hopes – a literal jar that I would fill with small pieces of paper with my hopes written down.

Today, the wind sent the jar flying and it smashed. All my hopes that I have not read since I wrote them down, scattered all over the floor. I have debated for a long time, ‘when would be the right time to open the jar and rediscover my hopes?’ Maybe fate saved me from coming up with an actual answer.

I hope CBT will be my cure (2011)
I hope we don’t stay long (2011)
I hope Grandad comes home today (2011)
I hope to be brave (2012)
I hope to get on a bus today (2012)
I hope to get my head around maths (2012)
I hope my first day at Franklin goes well (2012)
I hope to know what I want (2015)
I hope to travel (2016)
I hope to make all the changes that I need to make (2016)

And then there is this:
I stopped hoping. For some reason, at some point hoping didn’t seem to be enough. My Grandad is dying, my Nanna is dead. (No date)

Here We Are

It is over.

It is done.

I studied some business lately – I loved it. I had always wished to do it, never thought I would have the chance, the opportunity, or the brains…

Yet, here we are. I have my work in front of me. There is ‘excellent’ scribbled all over it, on almost every page.

I had wanted my own business, once.

Still.

So many dreams, so many roads.

Everything happens for a reason, right?

The dream I have been chasing may or may not be within my grasp. But there are other roads. I have doors that I can reach over and touch, should I choose to. I am not used to having doors.

I have said so many times these last few weeks how tired I am of fighting. I have been fighting my whole life for an education that was not given to me. For things to go wrong now, makes me feel tired. Makes me feel like laying down.

I am not a person who lies down.

 

Gone

I saw you
Last night
Emaciated
Half dead.

All I could do was cry
Scream
Asking the same question
Again and again
Where is he?
He’s gone, where is he?
That isn’t him, where is he?

Then morning came
I woke up exhausted
I woke up sad
I woke up angry.

Distance

“When I lost her, I had dreams. Dozens of dreams. I was home and she was there, or she wasn’t. Sometimes it was worse when she was there because I knew that it would never be real. It would never be okay. She would take my hand, she was cautious – like she knew that I was ready to bolt at any moment.”

“Why did you feel ready to bolt?”

“…It can’t be real. If I run, I can create distance.”