This is just a post to say that this blog is no longer active, nor is it my main. I don’t know how to change over to my main blog however, so y'all are stuck with this.
An Ode to Being Choked Out
Many view this as odd
Autoerotic asphyxiation is not exactly common
You don’t see a couple choking each other out whilst having a picnic on a beach
One is cute
The other is
Strange to say the least
Understandably
Choking often leads to death
So why would you place your neck in someone else’s hands?
Especially when many don’t know how
But the feeling
Placing your life in his hands
Submission is earned and he has earned mine
The world and it’s thoughts is blocked out
The feeling of your hand on my throat
My struggle to catch the breath that is willingly restricted
Your voice chastising in my ear
The knowledge that I can tap out
Tap tap
He stops
My breath comes back
But I don’t want to
This brings me the peace I have not had in three years
And in a much better way
Submission is earned
And I love him enough to put my neck in his hands
Dancing stars
Holy FUCK I’m cold
My legs are freezing
My feet are dying
My bank account is screaming
People are staring
And the weather is outweighing my need to be pretty for you
But somehow
That doesn’t matter
A musicians twang
Some guitarist with a knock-off song
The gallery in front of me
Usually boring but it makes your face light up which I love to see
The concrete littered with chalk hearts
Ephemeral but beautiful art
We almost slow dance in public
My arms around your neck
Your arms around my waist
Stepping on each others feet
Laughing
Holding
Shutting out the world and the thoughts and the stares and the cold and the work and the hate
They are elsewhere
Tied to us by a spiders thread
Cut off by the moving of our bodies
Not in time with the music heard by others but with the music within us
Because that it is all we need to know
That shitty one bedroom
Falling asleep on the phone
Hearing his breathing matching yours
Gently lulling you to sleep in a way no drink will ever do
You reach out hoping to feel him beside you
But there’s just nothing
Just the wall
But you’re not sad
One day
One day it’ll be you and him in a shitty one bedroom
Struggling to pay rent
Having arguments
Working hours upon hours
Never seeing each other
But collapsing into bed at the end of the day
Hearing his heartbeat and using it as a metronome for your breath
His presence calming you
Loving you
Compare this to two years ago
When you were alone in your bed
Crying
Decorating the walls of your house with mile high splashes of paint
The ritual calming you
Loving you
But now
You’re happy
Well, not happy
But as close to happy as you’ll ever get
Because of him
You once said in a post that you wished for this for episode to be over
But thankfully
This isn’t the end of an episode
The credits aren’t going to roll any time soon
This is your life
And be happy with it
The three stages of Friday 18th May
Stage 1
7 am till 11 am
Mania
Eyes wild
Hands twitching
Legs moving
Clapping out an incessant rhythm
Seeing everything
Seeing nothing
Heart racing
Can’t concentrate
Things
Things happening
Things happening everything
What’s important?
Work? Yes/No
People? Yes/No
Nothing? Yes/No
Important
Can’t concentrate on what’s important
On what’s happening
Hands moving
1
2
3
1
2
3
1
2
3
Happy
Happy
Happy
Happy
Happy
You
I see you
You don’t understand
I want you to understand
But I can’t find the words at the moment
Blue!
The wall’s blue
Cool shade
Don’t like it
Do like it
You
Can you be mine?
Stage 2
11 am till 4:30 pm
Breakdown
This is the comedown from the mania
All the happiness, all the adrenaline has gone
I’m just tired now
It’s like a three hour panic attack and now it’s ended
Whole body tiredness
All I want is to sleep
Sleep on you, not with you, there’s a difference
I know what’s important now
It’s the work I should be doing
But I still can’t concentrate
My brain’s still running fast
There’s a lot happening but my body can’t keep up with it anymore
I know the importance of my work, of my a levels,
Of the mocks which are “the most important exams you’ll do until next year”
But I can’t force my hands to pick up the pen, to turn the page
My brain can’t read the words.
You know I’m not doing well
It’s pretty obvious
I hug you and you stroke my hair but both of us can feel the eyes on us
Eyes that probably don’t exist
But we think they do
You help. You calm me down
You instruct and I follow and I like that
You help me shut my brain off
Interlude
12 pm to 1 pm
Sainsbury’s
You can tell I’m tired so you carry me to lunch
You lift me up and I love feeling like this
“Weightless”
You call me
I think you’re lying but I reach down for a kiss anyway
On the way back we sit under a tree
It’s cliche yes
But it’s cute and I love it
Your hand in my hair
Your minty mouth on my tuna one
Unfortunately my head starts whispering
“We’ve got to get back”
“No please. Stay”
I lean forward but your hand on my neck calms me
Stops me
I relax into your touch
“We’ve got to go”
Stage 3
4:30 pm till 1 am
Depression
For fucks sake
Why
This is just unfair now
I’ve been through every emotion today
You really have to add complete emptiness to this?
I thought I was tired earlier
Now I can’t move because I’d need a nap afterwards
But I have to keep moving my hands to wipe away the tears that keep on coming
I’m not even sad
Well
That’s not true
I am sad
This is crippling sadness
Crippling emptiness
Crippling nothingness
I don’t really want to be around people
Everything’s too loud and also too quiet
People force me to talk but the words come out too quietly
I mumble
I mutter
“I can’t hear you. Speak up Katie”
I cant though
It’s too much effort
I overeat and then hate myself and keep doing that on repeat
I wish you were here
The-Thing-I-Don’t-Want-To-Talk-About
You meant it nicely
“Tell me”
You said “it’ll help” and that “talking is the best way to deal with things” which is true
I know you want to help me and you can’t do that without knowing
But I don’t want you to know
Why don’t I want to tell you?
Because if I can’t tell my therapist, how can I tell my mother?
Talking about The-Thing-I-Don’t-Want-To-Talk-About scares me
Terrifies me
I have blocked this out for a year and have become very good at it
Despite all the triggers that should set it off, I can push it back
Most of the time
Why don’t I want to tell you?
Because it makes it real
It forces me to acknowledge something I should not have to
I have to stare this monster in the face and not battle it, but rationalise it
It has to become a thing that I live with instead of something I can
Ignore
Why don’t I want to tell you?
I call it The-Thing-I-Don’t-Want-To-Talk-About for a reason
We all have one
One chapter in our lives we leave unread
One story that never gets told
One scar we hide under our concealer
Talking about it brings it to the surface and no one wants that
“Tell me”
Why should I?
Just because we are related does not mean you have instant access to my secrets
I do not tell every stranger on the street so why would I tell you?
Because your my mother and “I love you”
I’ve heard that before
I shouldn’t be too harsh
I know you care and I know you don’t know how to help
I wouldn’t either
This relationship is complicated for neurotypicals,
stick us in the mix and you get the most depressing sitcom the world’s ever seen
“It’s a part of you and I love you for it”
That’s the problem
This should not be part of me
I did not deserve this
I did not want this
I did not ask for this
It does not deserve to be a part of me
They do not deserve to be a part of me
I cannot carry this round for my whole life, knowing that the thing I despise myself for is a part of me
In my head it is my fault, despite all logic and rational telling me otherwise
I do not want a mistake to define me, to be part of me, to hold any stake in who I am as a person
The gates have been unlocked and the The-Thing-I-Don’t-Want-To-Talk-About has started to emerge
I will not survive this
I will not survive this alone
But you cannot be part of it
Angry
I don’t want to be angry with you
And honestly, I don’t think I am
Media has taught me that my response should be to get loud, to scream what you did from the roof tops
#MeToo and all that
But you do not deserve that
You don’t know what you did and you’ll never know
Because I will never tell you
I’m not religious but I pray that I don’t ever have to see you again
Playing a one sided game of hide and seek is tiring enough,
I don’t need you to know why it’s happening
What you did to me is something I have to live with
And you get the pleasure of not having to
I can’t decide whose luckier
Someone asked me if I talked to you about it
If I had explained to you what you did
But I don’t think it should be like that
Why do I have to be on the receiving end of your deaf ears and then attempt to get you to listen?
That seems illogical
And that’s not the only thing
How and why could you not see what you were doing was wrong?
How did that thought not pass through your head?
How did no become a word you didn’t understand in a language you were fluent in?
No
I’m becoming angry
And that’s not allowed
I do not allow myself to have feelings about this
I cannot allow myself
They are what got me into this mess in the first place
Those feelings let me look past what happened as just a slight bump in the road
When by god it was anything but
In my yearbook you wrote
“Katie, I’ve been an asshole, but we’re tight. Missing you already! Love,”
I refuse to say your name
One would assume this was you acknowledging what you had done
And they would be right
In a sense
You are apologising for cheating on me even though “we’re not in a relationship right?”
But you still think we’re “tight”
And again that is right
In a sense
You are still wrapped tight around my neck during my panic attacks
You are still holding tight to the blade as it glides across my skin
You are still squeezed in tight in the forefront of my mind between why you happened and what you caused
I don’t want to say that you’re not allowed to be “missing me already”
Because that would seem to angry
But I wouldn’t honestly know if you did miss me
It took me a year but I blocked you
You have no way of knowing what I’m doing or where I am
And I hate myself for saying this
But I am sad about that
I am still drawn to you
I always will be
You were my first and it appears like you will be my last
I get drunk to forget about you but you are the only thing on my mind
It’s not fair
And yes I sound childish and weak and scared
But I am allowed to be
You made me this way when you took my childhood from me
When you took my voice from me
When you took my power from me
When you took
Tidal wave
drowning
sinking
crushed
tidal wave after tidal wave
no peace
head falling tumbling swirling
like a whirlpool that drains
everything
there is drowning but there is no pain
there is pain from not breathing
there is pain from not blinking
there is pain from the man made rivers in your arms
but there is no pain
acceptance
of the pain felt and not dealt with
calm
as the stonework shatters and the structure collapses
hope
that life or the wave will pass
then
the wave breaks and the wor
ld collapses everything falling in on themselves with no regard
for life on the shore that means not
hing there is pain there is pain manmade
or brain made indeciferable constant
there is pain head drowning heart pounding lungs collapsing
all thoughts sucked out by t
he pressure of the
wave
Head up. Feet on solid ground.
This was a relapse.
It’s okay. You have not drowned.
No need to collapse.
Calm down. Your voice now makes sound.
Stay clear of the traps.
Well the fuck done
Why the FUCK do you have to overthink everything?
It was a nice fucking night
Just let it be
Well the fuck done
You’ve just tainted one of the best memories of your life
One of the most peaceful, romantic and calming moments
With your motherfucking thinking
You couldn’t just let it be could you?
He was respectful
He cared about you and didn’t push it
He went at your speed
And you feel guilty?
You shouldn’t feel guilty
You’ve done nothing wrong
Expect blue ball him and probably make him leave you in the long run
I mean, he’s leaving you anyway so what does it matter
Trust your fucking luck
You fall for an amazing guy
He’s handsome
He cares
He’s funny
He matches you in almost every way you want
And he’s leaving
Again, well the fuck done
You can’t do this one thing for him can you?
Why can’t you just shag him?
It’s what he wants
He might care about you more then
You might have a fighting chance then
Just whore yourself out
I mean, that’s what you’re used to isn’t it?
Just being a little whore whose too pussy to actually fuck a guy
Pathetic
No one cares about virginity anymore
Don’t have this grand fucking expectation
It’s not going to be sweet
It’s not going to be romantic
It’s not going to be with someone you love
If you’re lucky it’ll be a with a guy you tolerate in his skanky ass house
If you keep your track record, it’ll probably be rape
Hey you might actually do something right this time!
You couldn’t get raped
You couldn’t get actual depression
You couldn’t fail badly enough
You’re just useless
So well the fuck done
Fuck you
You know what?
Fuck you
Just fuck you
You don’t deserve to be happy
You don’t deserve anything good
You deserve to deal with what I have to deal with
Because of you
You deserve to deal with having a breakdown because you see one photo of me
To have a panic attack everytime you think about having sex with the person you really fucking want to
To want to rip your skin open every time my face or my hands come to your mind
To think about me constantly and hate the fact that you’re doing so
To blame yourself for my actions
To think everything is your fault because you’re fat, easy and a slut
To have to tell your mum you’ve been sexually assaulted and have to deal with the look on her face when she asks if you were penetrated
To have to justify my actions to your therapist and to yourself
To tell people, no it’s fine, I don’t mind watching movies with rape in it
To have to fight off a panic attack when someone takes photos of you in a compromising position because, it makes the other person feel uncomfortable
To have to learn to love yourself for the first time
To have to learn that sex isn’t the basis of a relationship
To have to be taught that you don’t have to be sorry all the time
To see your brothers hands grip the steering wheel when you explain why you understand what your friend is going through with their abusive ex
To learn not to base yourself on how attractive you are to others
To have to message your friend after they’ve gone to sleep because that moment keeps replaying in your mind
To have to feel bad about not letting me rape you further
To have to work with me and hear about me every day of the week
To not feel comfortable in your own skin
To freeze every time you hear my name because what if I’m actually there
To have an evening out ruined because I’m in the same building
To hate how I didn’t quite assault you enough to make you feel justified in calling it sexual assault when by God it was
To wish, in a twisted sense, that I had raped you because then you could call the police or not feeling like you’re overreacting
To sit, writing shitty poetry about me because it’s the only mildly healthy way of dealing with it that you’ve got, when all you want to do is watch a shitty Netflix movie with your partner
To drink yourself to death every night so you don’t have to deal with my face
To hate yourself
To hate me
So fucking deal with this
Deal with all of this
Because this is what you’ve forced me to deal with
And it’s not fucking fair