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“That is not it at all,

That is not what I meant, at all.”

--T.S. Eliot, The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock

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The Awesome Power of Procrastination

*Trigger Warning: self-harm The power of procrastination is so awesome that even though I have been without Internet access for several hours and I have things that I think I want to do, I have spent that time lying on top of my bed thinking about how I would do all the things I want to do if I were to do them. Very productive. I think that the ideas I have are worth so much more in my head, I can fetishize every negative feeling and pretend that it makes me special or interesting in some way. But when the thoughts become words that I type out and read back, I realise how banal everything about me is. That's probably the real reason writing blog posts and writing in my journal gets a little harder every time. Here is a quick list of the things I should be doing right now: On Tuesday I had a very intense dream that was terrifying enough to make me feel slightly separate from my body all week. Even now, everything feels a little unreal and abnormal; I haven't stopped
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The Mad Girl: Poetry Edition(part 5)

Dreaming Psychosis

My mind cannot be trusted, diseased and illogical as it is.
When I am most vulnerable, it attacks me. Traitorous.
For years I've barely managed to keep the thoughts at bay,
But my mind has taken the lies that were keeping me together away.
When I sleep it turns on me and shows me things, 
Slashes at my core with painful, torturous dreams.

I saw him again.
I touched him again.
I loved him again.

I woke up shaking, exhausted and raw,
Realised that my self-deceptions wouldn't work any more.
The dismantling of my armour, the destruction of my defences
Brought me to my knees and I am furious. But I have delusions to fabricate, better lies to find;
At least until I am betrayed, once again, by my mind
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