Daily Dose Of Romance

 

Much better than the original. Chester pined it completely.

No harsh feelings, Adele, but this piece of art is beyond the beauty.

If you haven’t heard this version, please do.

Is anyone out there who agrees with me? 

 

“The scars of your love remind me of us

They keep me thinking that we almost had it all

The scars of your love, they leave me breathless

I

can’t help feeling

We could have had it all……”

 

hands

Dead End- Part Two, Or How To Deal With A BPD Patient

 

panda

Well, I am here.

I went to sleep, around 05:00 A.M. Gratefully and finally.

Woke up at 06:00 A.M. Ungratefully and feeling like a panda. Yeah,a PANDA.

Took a cab, because I was unwilling to drive by myself, ’cause panda’s don’t drive, do they?

Got to my psych, to find the waiting room crowded as it’s a Black Friday sale.

I just stood in the middle of the room, confused, and thinking what to do.

I consider myself as a really, really impatient person, especially when I feel like a panda, and after along night of horror movie with me as a main actress.

So, I just knocked on the door, pretending not to hear the people from the waiting room saying to me…stuff (censored, because I’m a nice and polite person).

I entered without hesitation. My psych was luckily alone, typing on the computer.

She turned around and looked at me with a looked at me as I am batshit crazy.

Well, I am. Batshit crazy. Or a panda. Choose yourself.

“What the hell happened?!”, she asked. I didn’t look in the mirror this morning, just a quick inspection to be sure that I don’t have messy hair.

That’s important, but the panda look is not.  You know, when your mascara is beautifully melted around your eyes giving you that special panda look.

“Well”, I said, “bottom down, didn’t sleep, wanted to kill someone or something, feeling like a crap, and being on the edge”. Telegraphic voice and telegraph speech.

“You sure look like that”.

“I know”. “So, what now?”.

That deep breath she took while nodding her head in disapproval was so comforting.

I was still standing. “Sit down”, she said.

“Don’t want too”.

“As you wish”, she replied annoyed.

“I can only send you right away to the hospital, for an urgency admittance, you know that?”

“Yep”.

“Do you agree?”

“Nope”.

“If you can, please help me without sending me for another three weeks of vacation in the mental ward”,I pledged.

Her smile was so sweet. I wanted to bang her in the head, although knowing she is completely right.

“Ok now…..have you done something to yourself? Planned to?”

“Sure. I was gambling with a couple of options”.

“Oh, Tina”. That deep breath again. “You have to be admitted. You look like hell”.

“A panda”, I replied.

“What? A panda?”, she asked.

“No, I’m not delusional, just sarcastic”, I whispered. “I thought you knew me by now”.

“Can we delay that admittance for a couple of days?I have things to sort out. It’s not that easy, you know?”, I said.

“It’s not easy to let go home someone who admitted self-harm intentions, I cannot do it just like that”.

Now I took a deep breath.

I knew how I looked. I knew what was happening tonight, I knew, but I just didn’t want to go…there, again

“Please”, I said. “I’ll be alright, I promise”.

The eternal silence with her looking at me,and looking, and looking…..

“Ok. Let’s do it this way. You have my number. You should have called me yesterday”.

“At midnight?!”. I was confused.

“Yes, at midnight, 3 A.M., whatever. We are changing the rules, starting now”. Her voice was full of anger. Oh, what a supporting feeling.

“You will get here tomorrow, for a checkup”.

“But…it’s Saturday tomorrow!”

“And so what? I will be here!”, she replied with growing impatience.

“Ok, ok..no problem, just to avoid that place, I’ll do anything”.

“I will prescribe you another med to the ones you already have. You know you are a complete mess, and we have to start antipsychotic again”.

Oh, joy. Again, a trip to the zombie land.

But I nodded with acceptance. I knew she was totally and completely right about it.

“You’ll start immediately. Go home, take off that panda look, and go to bed. Your cell phone will be by your bed. I will call you in the afternoon, and in the evening”.

Even my mother wouldn’t do something like that. She was never so…compassionate?

“You will?”, I asked perplexed.

“Surely and absolutely. Take a week of the work, take a week for yourself. Don’t answer to the calls, of anyone whom you think will disturb you. Just try to focus on yourself. On yourself!”.

I thought that alien replaced my psych.  This wasn’t her. She was usually cold, distant and totally uninterested.

“What happened to you?”, I asked. “You seem like another person, another psych. I have never met you!”.

She laughed.

“Tina, you are coming here so long, and you haven’t noticed anything? I do care. You problem is that you don’t feel it or see it”.

Yeah right, I thought, but in the same time I asked myself if she was in fact right.

BPD patients are hard to correlate with their doctors, often build a wall around them….I know all of that.

And I started to cry. That was an accomplishment for me. And a relief. I felt that somebody is supporting me. Really supporting me.

“Oh, come on now, it will be alright. The fact you have made it to fight yourself and come here in the morning, that’s a sign of a strength and will. You are strong. You can manage it. I am here. We will get you out of this episode, together. All right?”.

I wanted to hug her, so I did. I never ever did that to any other psych before. I felt like someone took a heavy load of me.

She accepted the hug, I felt it.

Suddenly, the peace and the feeling of hope emerged.

It takes so little to make your patient trust you and cooperate.

It takes so little, my  dear psych docs, for the BPD patient to accept you. It takes just a little of a support and understanding. So little, but so much at the same time.

I felt like floating while exiting her office. I knew someone is watching over me, and will be there. That was a tremendous step forward for me.

So, now I’m peacefull like a baby.

And I didn’t even took my meds yet. I will.

I will follow the rules this time. No rebellion like before, because she gave me what I needed.

This time, she gave me what I needed. Not the meds, but the understanding.

Thank you, my dear doc A.

You saved me from myself, and saved me from the vacation in the happy place of the mental hospital.

So guys, it seems I’ll stick around. Not going on a vacation or a longer trip to the Unknown.

I did it. I managed it, and overcome myself.

I am a strong woman, indeed.

Go to hell, you BPD. I will beat you, I know I will!

Yours truly, Tina.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dead End

 

end

Triggered and thrown into the abyss.

With stupid words. With stupid acts. With stupid people that surround me.

 

I should have left my cell phone in the sink and pour the water in. To drown it.

 

I lit up a cigarette.

 

Smoke vanishes in the air. Just like me. Vanishing.

 

What do I feel?

 

Common question. Without an exact answer. All of it. Everything. Oh my, you stupid BPD.

Anger, grief, sorrow. If I could cry (which I just cannot for a long time now), I think I would flood the city.

 

 

Instead, I’m sitting empty, alone, looking at the wall.

Smoke in the air.

Coffee.

Me. Wanting only one thing.

 

 

This story should finally reach the end.

 

Perplexed plot, insane characters, twisted turns, unbelievable chapters full of despair.

 

Smoke in the air.

I took all of my meds, as prescribed. With a touch of more Klonopin to numb me even more. It’s not working, as usual.

 

If I make it through the night, if I finally get asleep (which I also cannot), I promise myself to see my psych tomorrow.

 

I feel another couple of days or weeks coming, in the, oh so well-known,  surrounding with white walls and full-time insanity.

 

If I make it.

Smoke. Vanishing.

 

 

“..Laecheln…… sanfte Rueckkehr….
….Traenenlos versinkend……
…..Schau zurueck friedvoll…
….Wenn die Daemmerung erwacht…

……Vieles bleibt vergessen…..
……Verschwommen und zerschellt…..
……An den leichten Momenten…….
……Dem Wellenschlage gleich…….ueberm Meer…”

 

 

Lost By My Own Will

Floating

 

I couldn’t resist, it was the full moon, warm summer evening. I sat in the car and drove.
Just drove true the night.

 

Just drove, to get lost.

 

Music loud, windows down, feeling of freedom and that special scent of summer night.
Mixture of fresh grass, asphalt, ozone after rain, and gasoline.

 

Me and my car, one entity, driving and exploring, leaving the world behind.
Thoughts, emotions, blended into one bubble that would never burst.

I stopped by some unknown woods, and there was that meadow, barely seen through the dark.

 

I knew I’m lost, somewhere, but it was really what I needed.

 

I left the car, and sat down on the grass, slightly wet from the afternoon rain, just catching the moment,and wishing it would never end. Moon above me, stars, no cloud in the dark skies above me, not even one.

 

And then, there it came. Two falling meteors, one following the other.

I laughed, echoing in the surrounding silence, and thought about making a wish, but why?
I had everything I needed in that perfect frozen time moment.

 

Only one thing remained empty. The place beside me.
The person with I could share the moment stolen from time.
No regrets, though.
If it should be empty, then be it.

 

I leaved all of it, driving back to the familiar roads.
But my mind stayed there, like in the movie that would stay forever imprinted, with no subtitles, no ending, and with no beginning.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/wrong-turns/

pad2014

The Serenity Of Remorse

girl

I will set free two, maybe three words,

To slide down my cheeks.

 

I do not want to steal the future time anymore,

I will rather leave,

And keep the honor guard

For the dead thoughts.

 

One day I will escape utterly,

And leave an empty void for the last wish.

The autumn sky will be hidden by the gap of emptiness,

And death.

 

Then, with the move of an experienced gambler,

I will pull the rope around the neck,

Of nonexistent, faint body.

 

I will let two or three words,

To flow with the content down my cheeks.

 

Thus, comforted, I will go to meet Him,

To appraise the remorse of the revealed pledge,

Sliding slowly down my face.

You broke it, stupid!

Heart

 

Not expected so much rain today. Maybe it will become a flood. It makes me sleepy, moody, down.

Everything a woman is expected to be. But I’m not that kind of woman, so I’m surprised with my own reactions.

I’ll grab some chocolate. Lay down. Listen to music. Think about opportunities and mistakes I have made.

I know, I know, bad choice of thoughts, but it’s my mind discussion which has to be done, sooner or later.

In the name of that, another undiagnosed “poem” ( oh, how I like that term).

Don’t call me

Don’t text me

Don’t even think of me.

You have no rights, no purpose in my life and my mind.

I erased you like a bad drawing from the plain paper, put you into garbage and kicked away with pleasure..

Please, you should do the same.

Our last conversation, silent, with no words at all.

Could I even call it conversation?

I had nothing to say, after you said everything, in four little, tiny words.

I

don’t

love

you.

Enough said. Welcome to the exit door of my life. Please, shut it down.

I won’t look back anymore.

At the bottom. Not swimming, but drowning in the misery of the BPD.

I haven’t been posting, for a while.

Why?

I broke, fell apart, sinked to the bottom.

I don’t remember exactly what was I doing for the two past days. It’s a fog of memories.

Mostly I slept not to feel. Not to do anything….to myself.

I thought of ending it once and for all, I couldn’t bear it anymore.

So I took a pill after pill after pill, until I was totally numb and fell asleep.

Did it helped? No. I was looking for a help, my psych is on vacation, I called The Crisis Center,but it didn’t help too much.

They said, that I have to go to my psych hospital (second home,as I call it), but I did not. I don’t want to end there, again. It is three weeks since I left the psych ward, I cannot imagine myself being there locked up, again.

I was, I am still in fact, a wreck.

Going from feeling useless, failure, to self harm thoughts, to suicidal thoughts.

From crying to feeling nothing at all. Empty and numb.

I tried to talk to my family, but they did more harm than good. Our talk ended up in the verbal fight, as my mother, again, tried to be persuasive with her constant and annoying repeating words of how I am overreacting, and do I know how does it make her feel.

Yeah mum, I know. I have been your burden too long. But you have never ever said a word that could make me feel better.

My mum has an amazing power of turning my cries for help into her own misery.  If I feel bad, she makes it even worse, by making me feel guilty and responsible for all the problems in the world. Thanks, mum.

At this moment, I have no clue what to do next. Or better said,what will I do…next.

I’m sorry, but this battle is becoming to hard to fight it.

I feel I have no strength or reasons to fight.

The end.

 

The Worst Hours In My Broken Life

images

Strange unknown house. My not-so-good friend party, birthday or whatsoever. Didn’t bother me too much, the occasion I mean. I was there, that was all that counted.

Boring to the bone.
Waiting to leave, unnoticed, without asking and answering stupid questions.

I was lost in the crowd with unfamiliar people, drinking my mojito, third, fourth, who counts anyway, looking for the door.
Tried to push myself to the limit of toleration of surrounding noise. The moment I felt my thoughts messed up, my head about to explode, I was seeking the way out.
No goodbye to anyone, just wanted to disappear without the trace.

I walked through the crowd, head down. No one noticed me, I was invisible, the state which is able to achieve if you know how. Blended into surrounding mess, words, polite chats. Awful.

As I entered the hallway, darkness surrounded me. I remembered where the entrance and the front door were. But there was complete blackness around. No lights at all. I was completely blind. Put my hand into the purse looking for my cell phone..but nothing.

Fuck, I thought.Fuck, fuck. Where is the fucking light? The switch?! Anything!?.

My purse filled up with thousand unnecessary things.
Like all the woman’s bags, you could survive the World War III with the content of the bag. Felt the lipstick under my fingers, car keys, wallet, everything and nothing useful.

I broke with anger, yelling at myself, thinking about entering that gray party zone again..I was so desperate.

And then.. that sound behind me.

Like a soft whisper. Like a tip toe walking towards me from behind.

“Hello?”, I asked.

No answer.

Sound again, this time, breathing, slow, deep breaths, almost touching my neck.

I could feel chills down the spine. My hands started to shake. I wasn’t scared, I was horrified.

There was someone. Breathing behind me. I could feel his presence, the warmth that was getting closer and closer.

“What do you want? Who is it!?”. No answer. Silence, thick and heavy, you could smell it, the fear, the horror, you could slice it with a knife.

And then..there it was.

Hand on my mouth. Hand around my waist, felling pulled away.

Wanted to yell, I couldn’t, wanted to bite, I couldn’t, wanted to fight, I couldn’t. He was too strong.

Heard the door squeak as they opened. He turned me around like a doll, pushed me somewhere.
There were dimming lights penetrating the window blinds.
It was a room. Messy place. Smell of wine, cigarettes..
He pushed me again, hard, hurting my hand. I screamed this time, but who was able to hear me?!

I landed on the bed, trying to stand up, to get away, to run..I felt nothing but my heart beating way through the chest.

His arms took my wrists, hard. ” You’re hurting me! Let go of me! You motherfucker!” Words flowed out of me with no respond.

I couldn’t breathe as he simply lie down on me. He, heavy as a rock, lied, and hurting me, I tried to move, with every muscle, with every drop of my remaining energy, freaking out.
I just couldn’t. Not an inch.

“I was waiting for this, for so long….”, whispered in my ear, distant, cold, unknown voice.

I started crying. This wasn’t happening Not to me. Not to me. Not to me!! It was just a dream I repeated to myself, just a nightmare, I should wake up any second now. Any second, I thought…

But i didn’t.

I felt him. Completely. Tearing my clothes away, mumbling something in a distance..

His face, barely visible, not recognizable, and mine, filled with terror, met inches away. I could feel his breath on my face.

“You want it. You wanted it. I know”, he said.

“No!!!” Screaming didn’t sound like my voice, more like a sound of the hurt animal brought to slaughter.

I felt hopeless. Felt tied down. Defeated. Wanted to give up.
My mind wandered somewhere, far, far away.
I thought if it must be, please God, let it be quick.
Tears rolling down my face, I was trembling with frailty. So vulnerable, so fragile.
So not me.

Then…

All around came the light, hurting my eyes. Someone came into the room.

“What the fuck!”. Remote voice, through the fog of misery.

He jumped. Literally jumped out of the bed.

I lay down for a while, unable to move. Felt someones hands helping me to get up. To get dressed. Wiping my tears.

As police came, and ambulance, I don’t remember a thing. I spoke something, do not remember what, shaking.

Driving to the hospital, the lights of the ambulance car and sirens.. distant. Felt as nothing of this was happening to me. Felt aloof and empty. Just an empty shell. Every inch of my body hurt. Body? That was not my body anymore.

Three days later, 18 stitches later, numberless consultations and answering..I went home.

He was brought to prison, that much I know. And got out for a minimum number of months. Physical assault, good beahviour.

Unlike his, my prison and burden never left me. I buried it deep inside, where no one can see it. It digs up his way out sometimes, but I beat it.

And now, this is me. Beating it up now, in this time, but not when I should do it. Because I couldn’t think then.

I was old me again..after a countless months.

An that is what I call my triumph, to overcome myself.

Parents, who the hell invented them in the first place?!

 

Short and sweet this will be.

Like would master Yoda say, you own path go must. Ignore the stupid as better you can do.

That’s a comment to a conversation my mother and I had today.

Like two monkeys, not understanding what the other one said.

 

I could also speak Chinese, it would make no difference to her. She has a tremendous way of understanding me.  She just doesn’t,  but she thinks she does, so it turns in a one big argument conversation without the conclusion or ending.

I feel drenched and angry. Facepalm for her winning again,and leaving me feel like a crap.

 

51512052

 

 

An open letter from a BPD to a non-BPD

In this video, originated from an open letter of a BPD sufferer who healed through DBT, the BPD is presented in a way that everyone could understand what is BPD really like.

Also, this is a great contribution to take away a BPD stigma from the society.

Please, watch it.

🙂

 

 

 

The Boy

 

Snow

 

One winter morning, a boy woke up.

He was not any particular boy, or the morning was in any way special.

He knew it was Christmas, but he had long ceased to believe in the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus, St. Nicholas, and everything else that makes a kid feel like a kid.

Under the Christmas tree stood a gift. He knew what he got. He felt no happiness or joy. He didn’t care. At all.

 

Mom was still asleep. It was early in the morning.

The boy took his favorite books about dragons, made himself some warm milk, and read.

 

Outside, it was snowing.

He wondered if maybe later he’ll go out, but even for that he had no will.

He read and enjoyed his imaginary world.

Where there is no contention, grief, loss, illness and tears.

 

For his age, he had seen too much.

He decided to open a gift when mom woke up.

He will fake joy and play with her.

He knew she was looking forward to it. Knew she loved him so much to the point of the physical pain.

When he was telling her that he loves her, then the tears came. She cried for because of so much love she had.

 

But the boy was in pain because she was always sad. Even while she was laughing with him, while they watched movies, drawing, he could feel some void inside her.

He knew why. He was just a child, but not in his mind. He knew.

 

When she wakes up, he’ll make coffee. That would cheer her up.

 

His friend Fred called to meet with him this afternoon. To play outside, in the snow.

He refused. He did not like to leave the mother alone. He loved to be with her, every possible moment he had.

Maybe mum did not know how he sees everything. How he feels everything.

Despite being just a child, he learned to suppress emotions. Just like mother did.

Their grief turned into something invisible but always present and touchable, like a soap balloon ready to burst.

 

He replaced this surrounding grief world, with his own, in whom dragons ruled, moms didn’t cry, didn’t have to take medications, and moms never had to leave home. Sometimes she was gone for days, weeks.

It didn’t make a difference if he knew where mum left. When she returned, she was different and changed, less sad, but always brought that bubble again with her. Invisible, yet touchable.

 

He did not want to change anything. He knew that everything would be fine. He just to be there, for her, for him.

To be good. To laugh. Tell her that he loves her. Every day.

It didn’t matter, he had only eight years, and he understood very well that life is not easy.

Does not always bring what you want. That ugly thing occurs.

 

Once, a long time ago, he had a father. Now he had an only mother, occasionally in rare moments.

There were times when he asked her something, but she didn’t reply, she just stared at the wall, empty and silent. Sometimes for hours.

He got accustomed to it.

He got accustomed to such a way of life. Mother was all he had, anyway.

 

He decided to go out with Fred.

Mom will be fine.

 

Yet, today is Christmas. Maybe, just maybe, Santa heard and fulfilled him one wish that he never, ever told anyone. He did not want to admit this wish even to himself.

But it was the wish from the deepest place in his small child heart.

All he wanted was Christmas morning full of laughter, favorite vanilla cookies mum used to bake. And a family.

 

He knew that it was probably too much to ask. So he returned to his book, to that what was real for him.

Red Fire Dragon. War in the story land, dragons and elves…

And outside, it was snowing. And it was Christmas. And the mom was still asleep.

 

 

PhD On Terms Loneliness And Plural

girl

 

Solitude is a synonym for a loneliness: noun aloneness.

So, there we have a three nouns, with the same meaning.

For me, they do not “feel”the same, at all.

Yesterday evening I was so mad at you, stuffing your travel bags once again, as I did numberless times before. I felt grief, because your job is so demanding and you are on a trip almost constantly.

I felt grief because your socks have traveled more than I am, they have seen the whole world. The whole world, indeed.

And here I am, putting those socks again into your bag, the bag will go into the airplane, and you will go into the airplane as well, leaving me as always.

That’s solitude. When you are already missing someone who is right next to you, but in his mind, the airplane has lifted off.

This morning, at the airport, we kissed goodbye.

Instantly, as you were gone, the loneliness has come.

That’s loneliness, when you return home and find a pair of forgotten socks. Me and your socks, waiting for you to return.

The days passing by, loneliness turns int a monster.

The monster called aloneness. It eats you, it haunts you wherever you are, no matter what are you doing.

Aloneness is the final stage. The verge of the pot full with emotions, ready to blast off.

I could ask for a PhD on these three nouns.

I mastered them to a perfection.

We have been talking about us, about your airplanes taking off’s, international arrivals and the awful airport coffee.

I had it enough, I don’t want to feel the third monster noun again. The pot has exploded, and I cannot do it anymore.

When you return to our home, where we have lived for the past few years, I will give you your forgotten socks.

I will kiss you because I love you and then I will leave you for good.

Because loving someone so much and missing him constantly, mastering the all synonyms for the solitude, is ruining my life.

I want you in it, in my life, in my presence. I want you, and not the forgotten pair of socks.

If you will ever be able to understand the solitude, the loneliness, the monster of aloneness, then you will find me.

If you do that, I’ll get rid of my PhD, and finally make a plural in our lives.

Instead of “you” and “I” apart, we could make the word “we” or “us”. A new word in my dictionary.

That would be an awesome PhD, about the new term  – “we”, as a plural.

But it’s up to you to decide. The socks, or me. The plural or the singular, it’s totally up to you.

 

Do not clap along!

 

Darkness and Light

No sunshine for he’s not here

And I’m not crazy what I’m about to say

I’m a tempered bomb ready to explode

Right into the space, bringing it all with me

**************

I’m unhappy and feel free to clap along

If you know that feeling

When the room ceiling is falling down on you.

Clap along if you understand the meaning

Of the loneliness, the only truth

Clap along, I know you feel it too.

*********************************

Nothing you can say can change my feelings

You’re just wasting your time.

No offense to you

Give me all the arguments you have

But no, I won’t be fine.

*********************************

Hey, come on

As you don’t know it by now

Nothing can lift me up.

I’m gone way to deep

Into this state of mind.

*******************************

Come on

Don’t waste your time

Clap along while I’m going into the dark

Where I belong.

Clap along

But don’t follow me down.

I’m already lost

But you can make it

If you just stop

Clapping along.

(Pharrell Williams- “Happy”, rewritten, as an answer to a challenge of  DP- “To The Tune Of….”)
Continue reading

You Are Who You Are, Why Change?

AUDIOSLAVE – BE YOURSELF

 

We are all born into this world different in a perfect genetic chaos, making us unique. Unless, you of course have a twin brother or a sister, then you might consider yourself a little bit not unique.

If the universe wanted it the other way, we would all like the same music, dress the same way, are thoughts would be the same, our lives would be exactly the same.

But the nature itself tends to the chaotic state. It’s natural to be chaotic, to be different than the others who surround you.

I often question myself, what would happen’ if I really accept a long-term psychotherapy and completely change my mindset, my behaviour, my relationships with other people?

Would it still be me? Or someone else?

I know a guy with BPD for many years. When he reached the bottom, and searched for help, he undergo the process of a long psychotherapy sessions.

He is not the same person anymore.

We are still friends, but some of his reactions, sentences, the way he sees the world, is fully changed. I disagree with him a lot. And our friendship is not what it used to be.

In a way, a lost a friend.

I’m glad for him because he leads a normal life, with minor problems now and then, but I would never accept changing myself into someone else.

Sorry, I was born this way. I apologize for all my mistakes, bad manners, harsh words. I did the wrong this in my life. I hurt people, and I am sorry because of that.

But the others have hurt me as well, in a worse and more terrible way then I have done to anybody, ever!

Have they been sent to the psychiatrist? No.

So I choose to by myself.

The way I am.

I have changed only one thing: I brought a lot of kindness, empathy and love towards the others.

My character, though, didn’t change.

If you’re messing with me, it’s not gonna end well for you.

If you are kind to me, I’ll be kind to you.

My personality is who I am, but my attitude depends on you!

That’s why I posted this song.

It says it all.

“Someone finds salvation in everyone
And another only pain
Someone tries to hide himself
Down inside himself he prays
Someone swears his true love
Until the end of time
Another runs away
Separate or united?
Healthy or insane?

To be yourself is all that you can do!”

 

 

The Coffee, The Pen And The Gun

#TRIGGER WARNING!#

 

coffee and a gun

 

I had a cup of coffee, then two

I took a pen and wrote some notes on the paper

About the future, about the past

I wrote a letter to someone who will care enough to read it

I even draw a picture of the world as I see it

Just a black sheet of emptiness.

 

I don’t like guns

But I feel safe when I have one around

As being attacked too many times in my life

I always bear that feeling of threat incoming towards me.

 

The coffee, the pen and the gun.

I used only two of them.

The third stayed untouched.

 

For how long?

It’s a Mad World, Indeed

 

All around me are familiar faces
Worn out places, worn out faces
Bright and early for their daily races
Going nowhere, going nowhere
Their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression, no expression
Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow
No tomorrow, no tomorrow

And I find it kinda funny
I find it kinda sad
The dreams in which I’m dying
Are the best I’ve ever had
I find it hard to tell you
I find it hard to take
When people run in circles
It’s a very, very mad world mad world….”

 

Isn’t it a truly Mad World?

Beautiful song, awesome lyrics.

Like it? Do you find yourself in the lyrics as I do?

You’re My Most Treasured Mistake

 

 

you

 

As I stood there , looking at you leave into the grey and the forgotten world,

The tears weren’t falling.

 

I was numb

One big emptiness.

 

My knees were weak,

The Universe stopped , as I stopped breathing.

 

You choose, and I choose the same.

To tear us apart.

 

It was written that we must meet.

It was a mistake for us to meet.

The One above, the Universe, made all possible to bring us together.

 

To create a unique piece of art,

So soft, gentle, universal love.

And such a fabulous mistake.

 

I dream of you often and I know you dream about me too.

At least, we meet there, the kissing ghosts

In the non-existing world of lost souls.

 

Of all that I have done terribly wrong in my life,

You are and you will be always be,

My most treasured mistake.

 

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/favorite-mistake/

 

ANTIDEPRESSANTS, NEUROTRANSMITERS AND OTHER YUMMY STUFF

Great post!

Neurotransmiters in our brain, something we need to be sane, to function properly…good read to learn a bit more about your’s brain functioning!

Currently, because of concomitant depression disorder, I am taking venlafaxine (Effexor XR), which have helped me to get out of the cave and start functioning.

This drug is not an SSRI antidepressant, but SNRI, so, as they claim, in higher doses he is working on norepinephrine and dopamine receptors, and not just on the serotonin, as the usual SSRI’s do.

As you can see from the picture, Effexor is covering all of the three neurotransmitters, but only in high dosages, which I take now ( 300 mg a day).

Also, it was the only pill that made me feel human after a long time.

All the others were just like giving me water drops.

I am not making a commercial here, I have friends on other antidepressants that suit them perfectly.

We are just not all the same.

What do you think about this? Antidepressants, your experiences and thoughts?

ENDBPD

Neurotransmitters in the Brain

View original post