Black hole is where I have been, chucked down and spat out. The black hole is where I tried to be. I left for skiing with this foolproof plan in my head, and, and now. Now I know that the plan isn’t fool proof, its not anything, its nothing. Nothing enough for me to get that close to the black hole and to be dragged out by a hospital. I know that I took enough, I knew that it was going to work, it was going to work. Work it would. But, but when you stop eating and drinking for long enough you collapse, and if you collapse at random in a pub its normal for a friend to take you to hospital. That is the mistake, it was, it wasn’t the pills, or of me being scared but my body not having enough energy. That’s the fault in my black hole bid.
At first I wanted to write on here, I was attatched to drips and a heart monitor and all I wanted to do was tell someone, to ask them to bring some clean clothes and a hug. I wanted someone, anyone. Because the problem with saying you have no next of kin, and not living at home is that you cant, cant have any visitors. The longer the time went on the less I wanted to see people and the more introverted I became. The longer its been the easier it has been to not write on here.
I didn’t want to say anything on here, the fear of my parents reading it and the dark, depressive air hanging over this place put me off. It all put me off, off dressing and washing and talking and eating. I still don’t want it at all. I want that black hole, but, but the moment there is that bit of me. A 2% part of my head that’s saving, saving me from the black hole with the promise of things getting better. A part that’s making me write in hope of my normal routine. A part that is pushing me to spend time with my friends and not discharge myself from the CMHT like I really want.
Last Line…
Yesterday the healthy part was winning, and today the black hole is calling me, but but I must call myself away from it. That’s why I am writing. I am writing to keep myself for tomorrow when I am seeing a psychiatrist again to judge if I have capacity, or cognative something. I can’t rember, don’t know, dont want.
11 Comments
March 15, 2009 at 7:17 pm
(((Hannah)))
March 15, 2009 at 8:13 pm
*hugs*
I’ve missed your writing. xx
March 15, 2009 at 9:15 pm
Fuck, who knows what to say to this? There are no words, are there? Just hoping, quietly, teeth chomped together hoping, that you are OK, Han. Much Love to you.
Lola x
(Internet stranger who wants you to fight)
March 15, 2009 at 9:16 pm
(please fight)
March 15, 2009 at 9:28 pm
Hannah, that’s awful, I just don’t know what to say except I’m thinking about you and hoping that you’re even a tiny bit ok. Does anyone know you were in the hospital? You can get through this, just keep fighting, I know this probably all sounds stupid but please keep hanging in there.x
March 15, 2009 at 10:09 pm
Here if you want to talk. About this or anything else. Coffee or something? I don’t know. Not an attractive option as I am immersed in my own black hole. Glad you’re back to writing though. You were missed. People care. Be okay x
March 16, 2009 at 12:20 am
More hugs from my corner. Take care Hannah, D x
March 16, 2009 at 2:22 pm
D’ya fancy that coffee we both keep talking about and never actually *having*?
March 16, 2009 at 7:29 pm
Hannah take care (((hugs)))
March 18, 2009 at 1:04 pm
Hang in there.
Hugs from a long time lurker.
March 28, 2009 at 5:43 pm
Take care of yourself hun.
*Hugs*
There are people on here and in real life who care about you, bear that in mind.
xx