hannybannyyy-blog
A Silent Talker
The leftover words and thoughts.
10 posts
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The Fortitude.
To stand here
And let your eyes see me in this light
Is so much harder than you know
This is why I hide in the night
But at least these scars tell a story ended
A mountain climbed
Than a broken person
Swallowed by self involvement and pity inside
I’ll find it within
To wear these scars and let the world see
Because if you love me like this
Then you love me for me
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The Disease.
It’s taking my pieces
Replacing my thoughts
Rewiring the foundation
Of everything I’ve been taught
Draining my blood
It’s chipping my bone
Until I’m hollow shell
That no one will hold
Pulling this carpet
It’s closing that door
Carving and creating the very thing
That will make me trip and fall
It’s staining my clothes
Brewing nostalgia and fear
Pulling the threads of memories
Embedding doubt in every other year
It’s taking my pieces
It’s taking my pieces that I might never get back
It’s taking my pieces
It’s taking my pieces and turning them from red to black
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The Funeral.
What if
What if I haven’t given them enough to love me with.
What if
What if when I go
I am only a face and a name.
What if no one sheds a tear.
Because all I said were words
And all I did was hide.
All I gave was silence
And silence loses its meaning when you’re gone.
What if I am only dust.
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The Wiring.
It is all about getting over the next hurdle.
It is all about passing the next test.
Because if I jump high enough,
Because if I pass,
Then I am good enough.
Then I will not be left behind.
Failing is so much more than the word.
It is running.
It is colliding with a wall that you never saw in the first place.
And even if you had,
There would never have been enough time to stop yourself.
Failure is having to get up
And tell everyone what happened when they ask.
Because they are all so far ahead of you,
That they couldn’t know what happened.
And when you say those words,
That you failed at something they took for granted,
They rearrange their thoughts of you in their head
They backspace internally
And they rewrite their story of you
They see the charade you were playing
And you are no longer what you were.
And the lead up to everything
Is my breath disappearing.
The tightness forming in my chest.
Until the next hurdle is jumped.
And then I can breathe.
Then I can let this out.
This is all my life is, all it has become. It is just trying to breathe.
I am trying to breathe.
Breathing is a colourful sky.
It is red grading to orange grading to a calm yellow.
Soft splashes of pink and purple.
It could be a sunrise,
Or it could be a sunset.
But it doesn’t matter.
For once it doesn’t matter.
All that matters is that I can breathe again.
And that is my heaven.
Because all I have is shallow water.
Barely enough to keep me alive.
I am grasping for oceans,
But when I grasp them
They begin to disappear in my fingertips.
The stress returns
And it soaks up every drop
Until there is almost nothing left.
This shallow water keeps me alive
But I am always about to run dry.
And this is the wiring of my brain. A wiring that will one day short out and I will be left dark and empty.
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The Albatross.
Most people ‘experience’ acne at high school, with a few small breakouts here and there and it then it almost completely deserts them as they reach their later teens.
But nope, that wasn’t for me. My genetic makeup determined that I was to get acne from intermediate and give me a rather large dose of it as well.
Many bottles of useless cleansers and scrubs later, at the age of 19 my rather persistent acne has still hung around and gradually gotten worse. A few months ago I reached a point where I had simply had enough and just wanted clear skin that I didn’t have to worry about so much. I just wanted the skin that other people are blessed with. The skin that has no need for make up, and while of course not perfect, real and mostly clear. An appointment at the doctors was made and I was given a prescription for antibiotics to clear my acne up, and a prescription for birth control pills, to regulate my hormones to help prevent future breakouts. I naively thought that all of my problems had been solved. From here on in, I would get that clear skin I’d wanted for so long. I’d be just like everyone else. But again no.
While the antibiotics initially improved my skin slightly, when I started the pill all hell broke loose. Not only was I treated to the worst skin I had ever had, but also the worst period I had ever had. I entered a depressive state whenever I was alone, and sometimes in the presence of company, which was only enhanced by how disappointed I was in my skin. I was constantly on the brink of tears, even when there was nothing to cry about. And even after the period ended this state seemed to drag on. I couldn't hold myself back from crying almost every morning when I had to look at my face in the mirror as I put make up on, trying to cover every imperfection I could. Having to look at the scarring that this acne had left me with. My skin only got worse and so did
my self-esteem.
Another trip to the doctors and I was reassured that I this worsening of the skin was not supposed to occur. There were two paths, either she could prescribe me a drug called Isotretinoin, or I could see a dermatologist. Isotretinoin, marketed under the names Accutane and Roaccutance among many others, is a drug that I had heard of from my many hours spent on the internet trying to find ways to improve my skin. While it has some of the best success rates for almost any acne treatment, it bears side effects ranging from extremely dry and fragile skin,
joint pain and stiffness and nosebleeds right through to depression and birth defects (if taken during pregnancy). Fearful of the side effects given how I had reacted to the pill, I opted for a referral to a dermatologist. While I am reluctant, if nothing else works I will opt for Isotretinoin.
And here I am. Awaiting a dermatologist appointment and wondering what will happen next. I am stressed and tired, my skin and thoughts of it have consumed me over the past months. I daily have tears well up in my eyes when I look at myself in the mirror without makeup on. Past bouts of social anxiety have resurfaced since my skin has worsened and I care how people see me
now more than ever, as much as I wish I didn’t. I struggle to even look people in the eye for the fear of seeing their eyes dart to my face as they spot every imperfection. Watch them as they make their judgements of me in those moments. They don’t know how many hours a day I spend trying to keep my skin clean. They don’t know how long it takes me to cover it up with makeup. But while this continuing experience of mine has given me so many negatives, it has also taught me a few vital lessons.
Firstly, it has made me realise that everyone is carrying some burden, whether it be internal or external. There is always something that makes people insecure, whether they think they are too tall or too short, too skinny or not skinny enough, too outgoing or too quiet. This just reinforces the fact that we need to be kind to everyone we meet. Look past the initial judgements that we subconsciously make, because we all make them, and look and listen with open eyes and open ears. Because no one wants to be judged for what makes them insecure. It’s as simple as that. Treat others as you want to be treated. We’re told it as children and we need to keep being told, even as adults.
Secondly, it has also taught me that everything in this world is not perfect and nor should it be. People aren’t perfect. Lives aren’t perfect. If we try to make every aspect of ourselves flawless, we will ultimately go insane. Perfection doesn’t make us happier, it only makes us content until whatever it isn’t perfect anymore. Imperfection is beautiful because it is real. I’m not striving for perfect skin, I’m striving for healthy, clear skin. I’m striving for real skin. I’m striving for skin that instead of breeding disappointment, embarrassment and sadness,
gives me happiness and confidence.
So this is it. This is my external flaw that has transformed into a psychological burden. My albatross. And just like everybody else, whether they realise it or not, I will continue to try to fight it off.
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I wish I was as fluid as you
I wish I was as fluid as them
Bend and mould
So effortlessly
Whenever I need
Whenever I desire
I want to be the sea
I want to be the sea
#anxious#hopes
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And I will shout this one last time.
And then I will say it again and again after today, until it turns to a whisper.
I will keep whispering it until I don’t need to anymore because it will be etched into my brain, more than it already is.
I will say it over and over again in my mind until it is just a fragment.
A fragment at home in the back of my mind that only makes itself known when I see your name, when I see your face out in the world.
And I look forward to the first time in my life when you are second.
When you are second to everything in my life.
Because for the first time, I will love someone more than I love you.
And they will love me back.
#love#unrequited love#goodbye
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Thank you for existing.
For even though you don’t love me
You’ve shown me that I am capable of loving someone
For making me feel this way about something, someone.
Even though you don’t love me
You’ve shown me what it’s like to be head over heels
What it’s like to be giddy
What it feels like to feel everything at once
What it feels to be prepared to give up everything for just one thing, just one person.
Thank you for existing
You’ve shown me just how wonderful a single fragment is
And I can’t wait to feel the complete work of art one day
With someone who feels the same way
With someone whose head spins because of me
With someone who feels giddy because of me.
And as much as it pains me to say
I say congratulations to whoever she is
Wherever she is
For she will hold your entire heart
And you will hold hers
And she will get to love you in a way that is complete
In a way that she will get back what she gives
Because she will love you
And you will love her.
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Please just look at me for me
Not for the pictures that I choose to post, to show the world
Not for the things people show of me
Not for the words that I’ve said when I was younger,
For the words that I’ve said out of anger, frustration and teenage angst
Not for the amount of people who supposedly like me
Like a picture of me in a pretty dress
Like a picture of me I took myself
Not for the amount of people who are supposedly friends with me
Just look at me for me
Just for a brief moment in time
And tell me what you see
Let me talk to you
And tell me what you hear
Disregard all else for what is here in this moment
It’s what people should be doing anyway
Because more often than not it’s the truth
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