Spiralling out of control

Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.
 
Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he’s dead
It must have been too cold for him
his heart gave way, They said.
 
Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.
 

Poetry: Stevie Smith

Photocredit: Sarah Williams

I feel right now as if I am losing my grip. I cannot let myself go, I have so much to lose, so much progress would be lost.

I have carried on going to work, trying to focus, but made an almighty cock up and now I am going to pay for it. My dad tells me I should stop being so miserable all the time; like I said, they don’t understand my condition. I told him he didn’t understand, he asked me if I had ever lost a child, I had ever had a divorce, If I had ever lost a mother. Of course, I have never experienced any of these things, I am 24, I have never had a child, I have never been married, I have never lost my mother. How can I know how that pain feels like? Is he right to compare my mental illness to normal acceptable grief?

I have booked to do a skydive today, another offer that came from Groupon. I have always wanted to do one, I think I will like the feeling of taking off, knowing I have to fall down. I hope it fails and I die. At least then it will be an accident and people will know that. Do you do that? No matter how well you are, secretly hope for an accident to happen to remove you from life the easy way; no one will blame you, or say it was selfish, your life was taken without your permission.

Take care. x

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