Post by EchelonHunt on Dec 7, 2016 20:35:52 GMT 8
(TW: Suicidal thoughts, self-harm)
Hello, Mr. Depression
His light breathing brushed amongst my hair as I tried
to ride a horse, to fit in with my other friends. Faint feelings
of alienation arose as I drifted further apart when two of them
refused to let me join them in their activities, walking off and giggling together.
His silent voice reached out to me not long after puberty arrived.
I listened to him when I was convinced what I felt one day was
An erection, only to get shot down by Mum who said 'You're a girl!'
He sought and wrapped his arms around me when
I had come home early from a party,
His long fingernail jabbed my heart when I dressed myself up
Or when my sister smiled and helped me with my makeup.
His hands lingered around my throat, squeezing as years passed.
He screamed as I inflicted harm on myself.
But he didn't disappear. He lurked nearby, within the shadows of my mind.
His fingertips brushed past my eyes, as I laid awake at night.
I terribly wished I'd get raped, as I'd have a legit reason to die.
Inside my dreams, he wasn't anywhere in sight, but he very well could've
Since all I did was commit suicide or slash my wrists.
My first relationship was horrid, I turned into a monster
As my boyfriend gave me chocolate, poems and flowers.
His pale hands clamped firmly onto my face, reminding me of his dark existence
I lashed out, furious at him for no apparent reason.
His long nails dug into my skin as blood streamed down.
We broke up and he flirted with another girl, and I felt
There was something wrong with me.
He buried his face into my hair, soothingly whispering into my ears.
I wanted to scream and break free of his grasp, but no,
He wouldn't have any of that. He gript ahold of me tighter.
The idea of sex disinterested me, and the first time I looked at my bits,
He jabbed and struck, producing feelings of alienation.
My dreams morphed as I desired to be with a woman,
His hands and his emotions never touched me inside my slumberland
As I realized I disliked being a girl, and appeared as a half man, half woman.
However, my penis would often revert back and I'd be extremely
Frustrated and find something else to replace it. The woman in my
dreams gets very angry and leaves me all alone.
I open my eyes and his harsh grip cannot go unnoticed. I decided
to wear more masculine clothes.
I began my 'who-am-I' phase, and he tagged along for the ride, laughing and
Sitting on my slouched shoulders like a overly hyper child.
He didn't make a comment as I labelled myself as bisexual.
However, months later, he was appalled and stabbed me as
I tried to warm up to the lesbian label. He screeched and dug his
claws in deeply, so hard that I fell to a dark, rainy place.
I planned to commit suicide on my 18th birthday, and he immediately
backed off, giving me a sense of freedom, but the plan fell through.
He anxiously came back, and held me softly as I cried myself to sleep at night.
His hand stroked my short hair as he whispered small nothings, that only made me feel worse.
He kissed me tenderly on the back of my neck and gave me a pointer;
'You hate being a girl. What about being a guy?'
I blinked and typed 'transsexual' into the Google, and instantly, I felt
like the pieces of the puzzle fell together as
I read the definition of Gender Identity Disorder.
Mr. Depression patted me on the head, with a suitcase in his other hand as
he waved me goodbye. I smiled and waved back.
He visits every now and again, only to remind me of my goal and how I got here.
He smiles and doesn't say a word as he wipes my tears away.
His face softens as he glances at the new person clinging his arms around my neck.
'Hello, Mr. Dysphoria.'
----
This is an old "poem" I made on 21st February 2010. It's 6 years old and is still relevant today. Just to be clear, I'm not suicidal or self-harming (in-case anyone was concerned by the earlier TW)
I really need to get back into my writing, it is an excellent source for my outlet of emotions.
This "poem" tries to illustrate my depression as being initially a malicious being who appears to be intent on hurting me but is really just trying to use pain to show me the truth. In the end, Mr. Depression becomes a friend.
It could also be interpreted that Mr. Depression is not really my depression but my male self who is being suppressed and in agony every time I try to go against his wishes (e.g. trying to force myself to be female by dressing up feminine.)
My depression took me to the lowest I have ever gotten, shown that I have a will to survive and has shown me who I am in the process.
Just kind of mortified reading it over again all these years later considering I have been raped but I didn't commit suicide, as my poem suggested I would as a "legit" reason.
Hello, Mr. Depression
His light breathing brushed amongst my hair as I tried
to ride a horse, to fit in with my other friends. Faint feelings
of alienation arose as I drifted further apart when two of them
refused to let me join them in their activities, walking off and giggling together.
His silent voice reached out to me not long after puberty arrived.
I listened to him when I was convinced what I felt one day was
An erection, only to get shot down by Mum who said 'You're a girl!'
He sought and wrapped his arms around me when
I had come home early from a party,
His long fingernail jabbed my heart when I dressed myself up
Or when my sister smiled and helped me with my makeup.
His hands lingered around my throat, squeezing as years passed.
He screamed as I inflicted harm on myself.
But he didn't disappear. He lurked nearby, within the shadows of my mind.
His fingertips brushed past my eyes, as I laid awake at night.
I terribly wished I'd get raped, as I'd have a legit reason to die.
Inside my dreams, he wasn't anywhere in sight, but he very well could've
Since all I did was commit suicide or slash my wrists.
My first relationship was horrid, I turned into a monster
As my boyfriend gave me chocolate, poems and flowers.
His pale hands clamped firmly onto my face, reminding me of his dark existence
I lashed out, furious at him for no apparent reason.
His long nails dug into my skin as blood streamed down.
We broke up and he flirted with another girl, and I felt
There was something wrong with me.
He buried his face into my hair, soothingly whispering into my ears.
I wanted to scream and break free of his grasp, but no,
He wouldn't have any of that. He gript ahold of me tighter.
The idea of sex disinterested me, and the first time I looked at my bits,
He jabbed and struck, producing feelings of alienation.
My dreams morphed as I desired to be with a woman,
His hands and his emotions never touched me inside my slumberland
As I realized I disliked being a girl, and appeared as a half man, half woman.
However, my penis would often revert back and I'd be extremely
Frustrated and find something else to replace it. The woman in my
dreams gets very angry and leaves me all alone.
I open my eyes and his harsh grip cannot go unnoticed. I decided
to wear more masculine clothes.
I began my 'who-am-I' phase, and he tagged along for the ride, laughing and
Sitting on my slouched shoulders like a overly hyper child.
He didn't make a comment as I labelled myself as bisexual.
However, months later, he was appalled and stabbed me as
I tried to warm up to the lesbian label. He screeched and dug his
claws in deeply, so hard that I fell to a dark, rainy place.
I planned to commit suicide on my 18th birthday, and he immediately
backed off, giving me a sense of freedom, but the plan fell through.
He anxiously came back, and held me softly as I cried myself to sleep at night.
His hand stroked my short hair as he whispered small nothings, that only made me feel worse.
He kissed me tenderly on the back of my neck and gave me a pointer;
'You hate being a girl. What about being a guy?'
I blinked and typed 'transsexual' into the Google, and instantly, I felt
like the pieces of the puzzle fell together as
I read the definition of Gender Identity Disorder.
Mr. Depression patted me on the head, with a suitcase in his other hand as
he waved me goodbye. I smiled and waved back.
He visits every now and again, only to remind me of my goal and how I got here.
He smiles and doesn't say a word as he wipes my tears away.
His face softens as he glances at the new person clinging his arms around my neck.
'Hello, Mr. Dysphoria.'
----
This is an old "poem" I made on 21st February 2010. It's 6 years old and is still relevant today. Just to be clear, I'm not suicidal or self-harming (in-case anyone was concerned by the earlier TW)
I really need to get back into my writing, it is an excellent source for my outlet of emotions.
This "poem" tries to illustrate my depression as being initially a malicious being who appears to be intent on hurting me but is really just trying to use pain to show me the truth. In the end, Mr. Depression becomes a friend.
It could also be interpreted that Mr. Depression is not really my depression but my male self who is being suppressed and in agony every time I try to go against his wishes (e.g. trying to force myself to be female by dressing up feminine.)
My depression took me to the lowest I have ever gotten, shown that I have a will to survive and has shown me who I am in the process.
Just kind of mortified reading it over again all these years later considering I have been raped but I didn't commit suicide, as my poem suggested I would as a "legit" reason.
