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His loved ones wait,
Praying and hoping for his pain to be comforted and relieved.
Yet they don't want to say goodbye,
He's not sure he's ready to leave this world,
With so much left to do,
So many more decades of life left to be lived and savoured.
Too young to be taken,
From their loving arms,
They stay by his side and watch
As he slowly elapsed into nothing.
Fiction: not derived from personal experience.
Supervening once again,
I'm agitated, unsettled,
Suspecting to be taken by it:
The madness, insanity, instability
But -
Mostly just the hurt,
And wonder, discomfort from the lacking.

It steals me
Yet I can never take ahold of it,
It leaves me confused, crying and abandoned once more,
It never resists,
Success this has against me
As I am held hostage.

Where am I?
In my mind which I can't empty.
I guess at least,
This way I'm inflicting this sorrow on myself,
So in a twisted way I'm in control,
Except I'm not:

Because I don't always want to run and hide -
Well actually I do, most of the time,
But I want this to be true
Or to be capable of staying in reality.
What I'm doing is a messed up thing,
Because whilst escaping real life I bring those painful situations,
Back into my world of comfort,
Just so I can battle with them some more.

If this is some type of war,
I think I'll die fighting,
And no one will be winning,
As I'm the only enemy.
Don’t fall in love with me.
There are days when I get sad without a reason
And I just stare at the ceiling
Senseless thought running around my mind like phrase
With tears streaming down my face.

Don’t fall in love with me.
On those days, I don’t talk to anyone.
I just bury myself on my mattress
And think about how I became this mess of sadness.

Don’t fall in love with me.
I will become attached to you
And I will cry myself to sleep
If you don’t text me good night before you go to sleep
I will convince myself that it’s because you got tired of me.

Don’t fall in love with me.
I’m too much.
I will depend on you.
I need attention, much more than other people.
I’ll talk to you in metaphors and make you one.
I’ll write poems about you and open up notepad at 2 A.M.

Don’t fall in love with me.
I couldn’t stand you coming home to find me on the bathroom floor
Shaking and crying, with blood spilling from my wrists.
I couldn’t stand seeing the disappointment in your eyes.

Don’t fall in love with me.
I will pour everything I’ve left of me into you,
Every bit of love, until I have nothing to give.
Until I become completely empty.

Don’t fall in love with me.
I’m scared that my sadness is contagious.

Don’t fall in love with me.
I will replay your sweet words in my head
When I hate myself so much that I want to die.
Your words will be the only things that make me stay.

Don’t fall in love with me.
You will live in fear.
You won’t be able to leave me,
Because you’d know if you did, I wouldn’t have anything to live for.

Don’t fall in love with me.
Before I met you, there wasn’t a single person who could’ve made me stay.
You’re my reason now.

Don’t fall in love with me.
Because I will fall in love with you
"I must admit I've really missed you."
She whispers, speaking to her imagination.
A lonely room, a quiet girl
And a world full of wonderland.

"Why can't you be here, please?" She sobs secretly into her pillow,
Tempted to ask God if the sorrow will ever end,
Will it go away?
Her nightly prayers she saves for other questions.

"I really need you." She confesses,
But she's talking to herself.
I'm just attempting to manage my emotions,
I'm doing the best I can,
Mostly I think I'm doing very ******* well,
Or maybe I just want all these "professionals" to be wrong.

Occasionally I stop and remember:
"Of course they're right Chloe,
How can you possibly say you don't have deep psychological issues right now?"
But since these dissociative symptoms have started:
I've felt amazing mentally.

I must admit that before that,
I felt pretty bad - bad enough to actually admit and ask for help,
But doesn't that show how I'm "dealing with it",
I don't like people telling me my body's dealing with my psychological feelings physically,
I express myself all the **** time,
And they don't know anything!

I'm sick of the psychoanalysis,
And then them claiming they don't psychoanalyse
On that website they keep telling me to revisit.
They seem to think if you talk about your problems -
They just disappear!
And if you educate yourself on conversion disorders -
The symptoms will finally go away!
I could go through that website,
A thousand times and I will still
Remain to have spasms, tremors
And weakness.

I am managing my thoughts and feelings at the moment,
But that doesn't help me manage my physical symptoms:
They are literally debilitating and unmanageable,
Only they tell me I need to "accept it",
This whole poem is showcasing me doing exactly that.
As many times as I deny thinking that this is a functional illness,
I match referring to it as just that.

It's funny that I write so much,
And almost worship the skill
Yet I haven't felt the need to write about what's been happening for months now.
The reason I finally am in this moment,
Was actually because
I think I'm starting to feel things again,
And now I'm wondering if I've been pushing all of it back,
Which is exactly what they want to hear,
So they can say "your body's expressing it because your mind can't manage it, you need to express and deal with this."
You know what?
I really do wonder what the hell they think that "coping" is!

Maybe they would just say,
I'm avoiding my feelings and memories right now,
By coming to my notes section to seek some peace,
As what they would like to think of as a facade,
All comes crumbling down.

The waves of intensity belong to me,
And as much as I don't always enjoy them,
You can leave them all alone because they're mine,
And you can't tell me how or if I'm handling them properly.
Sometimes I just feel like this is who I am,
This is what I'm prone to,
And if you want me to just get over it then fine,
I didn't seek you out in the first place
So if you want to think that I'm over it,
Then that's okay with me.
  Jun 2018 Chloe's Not An Angel
Jack P
teacher sent me to the doctor's office
teacher sent me home
teacher sent me to the place
where all the foul things roam

teacher gave me tic-tacs
to swallow when i'm sad
teacher said the chemicals
will make me sorta mad

teacher dries my eyes up
with platitudes enough
to even console all the kids who
are made of smarter stuff

teacher says confusion
is not a cause for shame
i'm not quite sure what teacher means
but i listen all the same

teacher treading tip-toed
lowering the tone:
"i'll help you with the theory here
but you'll practice on your own."
if you are sad, get people to help you not be sad, thanks
I feel it's pull again,
Like gravity I can't avoid it,
Do I gather my defences,
Attempt to make the peace last a little longer?

Only if I forget something:
That this is my defence
Yet it never needs a reason to grasp me,
Making me crumble under its fix.

Slowly? I ask,
Just one more breath lasting in reality?
Slowly? - gone.
And I won't be coming back for as long as
The storm inside my head lasts.

The truth about this is,
It doesn't like being ignored.
I could try to distract myself,
Only it would never be successful
Once it's on it's way it won't leave you,
Not until it's satisfied and
You're weeping all alone,
Because all that's just happened to you
Is nothing to anyone at all.
Explains my experience of Maladaptive Daydreaming.
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