Depresso = Expresso P2

(Originally wrote on 19/08/18)

(I can’t remember why I deleted this. I don’t think I was happy with the end. But reading back – I don’t even feel like I wrote this. Im proud of it.)


Can you not tell I am a Disney fan yet kids? Check the dates posted/originally wrote on date and all will become clear.

This might be trash but I just wanna write right now, don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. Forewarning, I have no plan so if this is utter shit don’t actually blame me, blame the fact that I usually have like a loose plan cause I’m an organised person and for once I just went fuck it.

Extracts from stories I will never write – the tumblr white girl strikes again


The first thing I remember is my nose burning. The easiest way to explain it is that the sensation imitated when fizzy pop goes up your nose. I wanted to rip whatever was making me feel like this away, but there was an obvious disconnect between my body and brain. I mean, I could still feel my body – most of it. Just instead of it feeling like it usually would, it felt tingley, or like I had been in the same position for an extended period of time. That was the second thing I noticed. The disconnect.

Third thing you may ask? The sounds. Or should I say lack of. I have often heard people say ‘the silence was deafening’ and I never really understood what that meant until now. I never knew what it was like for it to be so quiet, all I could hear was me. My shallow breathing that made my chest heave up and then down. My blood passing through my body and gurgling in my ears, and my heartbeat which made the gurgling possible pounding in my chest. There was a distinct noise I couldn’t quite identify. I immediately knew it wasn’t me. The bodily disconnect I was experiencing meant that it took a second for me to recognise that it wasn’t human. It was machine.

White. Everything was white, only for a minute. Then, all different colours appeared, like when you rub your eyes too hard. Several shades of blue, green and pink faded until everything became clearer. I noticed I was directly below a light which almost definitely did not help with the whole eyesight thing. Everything smelt sterile and appearance matched, white, no maybe cream. An empty chair was next to me, with an off-brown colour as the arms and frame, and a green seat that had a small rip on the left corner at the back. Once my eyes followed what was next to the chair, I realised what machine was making the noise. I knew I recognised it because I had been here before.

The machine monitoring my pulse. “Slow, but steady.” I murmured, realising that it was probably better than it once was. I followed the wired that came out of the machine. One was attached to my finger, obviously for my pulse. The other wire, which was attached to a bag hanging at the top of the machine managed to find it’s way into my arm.
Great, a drip. The thought of the needle inching into me and not being able to remove it made me feel sick.

I tried to turn away. Focus on what was actually being pumped into me. Maybe it was just a standard IV. That was highly unlikely though, given how groggy and irregular I was feeling. I followed my arm down to where it was resting. Three hospital bands was nothing new. One for allergies, one for my admittance into A&E and the other for admittance to a ward. What was below it was far from normal though.

My wrist was handcuffed to the bed, with a sign attached saying “DO NOT REMOVE, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, NO MATTER HOW STABLE SHE APPEARS.”.



Logic says – Your emotionality is a weakness and a strength. It’s valuable but the more you let it in the more it controls you.

Emotionality says – fuck you. I never controlled anything.

Logic says – You see, that’s the point.


When I was at work, someone told me I seemed happy and eager to talk, but I was closed off.

You see if you had met me a few years ago, you would’ve said the opposite.

Too open, too much out there and emotionality caring too little for consequences.

Now too closed, logic wins because I have been hurt more than I can explain.


I have often found I am always ‘too’

Too much, Too little,

I feel like that saying about not knowing what grey is was made for me.


My emotionality is black,

Logic white,

Wait, let me explain.


Logic is white because it’s pure.

It knows nothing of bad or good,

it doesn’t try to hurt,

or please.

Logic explains things as life is,

it doesn’t cower at consequences,

it doesn’t fear.

Yet equally that is logics down fall.

Logic hurts,

brazenly telling truth – causing the pain it was probably trying to avoid.

Logic does not understand,

it doesn’t sympathise

or empathise,

logic is cold like the purest snow.


But now you see I have to explain why emotionality is black,

emotionality is to be lost in,

all colours that mean anything, combine to black.

Emotionality covers all, and smells like warmth.

It helps sleep,

helps peace,

helps calm.

But if emotionality is to be lost in,

why can emotionality make us lose ourselves,

it engulfs us like black nothingness and smothers every last piece until nothing else exists.


Maybe I should learn grey.

Poetry by others.

This post needs minimal introduction. These are simply poems that I enjoy or find comfort in and I hope you do too.


Courage – by Anne Sexton

It is in the small things we see it.
The child’s first step,
as awesome as an earthquake.
The first time you rode a bike,
wallowing up the sidewalk.
The first spanking when your heart
went on a journey all alone.
When they called you crybaby
or poor or fatty or crazy
and made you into an alien,
you drank their acid
and concealed it.

if you faced the death of bombs and bullets
you did not do it with a banner,
you did it with only a hat to
cover your heart.
You did not fondle the weakness inside you
though it was there.
Your courage was a small coal
that you kept swallowing.
If your buddy saved you
and died himself in so doing,
then his courage was not courage,
it was love; love as simple as shaving soap.

if you have endured a great despair,
then you did it alone,
getting a transfusion from the fire,
picking the scabs off your heart,
then wringing it out like a sock.
Next, my kinsman, you powdered your sorrow,
you gave it a back rub
and then you covered it with a blanket
and after it had slept a while
it woke to the wings of the roses
and was transformed.

when you face old age and its natural conclusion
your courage will still be shown in the little ways,
each spring will be a sword you’ll sharpen,
those you love will live in a fever of love,
and you’ll bargain with the calendar
and at the last moment
when death opens the back door
you’ll put on your carpet slippers
and stride out.


Half Caste – John Agard (this poem is also wonderful when performed)

Excuse me
standing on one leg
I’m half-caste.

Explain yuself
wha yu mean
when yu say half-caste
yu mean when Picasso
mix red an green
is a half-caste canvas?
explain yuself
wha yu mean
when yu say half-caste
yu mean when light an shadow
mix in de sky
is a half-caste weather?
well in dat case
england weather
nearly always half-caste
in fact some o dem cloud
half-caste till dem overcast
so spiteful dem don’t want de sun pass
ah rass?
explain yuself
wha yu mean
when yu say half-caste
yu mean tchaikovsky
sit down at dah piano
an mix a black key
wid a white key
is a half-caste symphony?

Explain yuself
wha yu mean
Ah listening to yu wid de keen
half of mih ear
Ah looking at yu wid de keen
half of mih eye
an when I’m introduced to yu
I’m sure you’ll understand
why I offer yu half-a-hand
an when I sleep at night
I close half-a-eye
consequently when I dream
I dream half-a-dream
an when moon begin to glow
I half-caste human being
cast half-a-shadow
but yu must come back tomorrow
wid de whole of yu eye
an de whole of yu ear
an de whole of yu mind.

an I will tell yu
de other half
of my story.


Girl from a train – Gareth Owens

We stopped by a cornfield

Near Shrewsbury

A girl in a sun hat

Smiled at me.

Then I was seven

Now sixty-two

Wherever you are

I remember you.


Playing at dying – Gareth Owens

She was prepared for dying

because he’d died before

A hundred times she’d found him

Stiff on the bedroom floor.


He’d fallen out of cupboards

He’d stifled on the mat

He’d drowned in the bath with eyes astare

Struggling like a rat.


He’d slumped to death in an arm chair

His hollow eyes remote

He’d chocked on the poisoned Horlicks

His hands locked around his throat.


And she but half believing

The game that kept them apart

Begged and cajoled and exhorted

Till her fingers found his heart.


“It’s only a game,” he’d told her,

“You know I only pretend.”

So she waited by the gravestone

For the game to end.


This is obviously not an all inclusive list – these at just some I enjoy and this may be repeated again some time soon.


Thanks again kids.

I’m sorry


I’m really sorry.

In between uni, and having a really traumatic experience a month ago I haven’t been writing.

I have no motivation too or desire too right now. I can barely get uni work done and my mental health is really bad. Like really, really bad.

I’m sorry because I’m not okay and the blog might go away for a bit or even forever. I don’t want it too but the way I am right now is barely functional.

So I have scheduled posts until the start of December – and after that I don’t know. The break might be good for me.

Thank you – and I’m sorry.

Not everything is bad.


Hey, I just wanted to say, not everything is bad.

Now I know I am a very tumblr aesthetic kinda girl. Call it the era I was brought up in, the people I surround myself with or what, but for once I’m gonna try and make this post not like that. This isn’t going to be a list describing ten reasons why life is worth living, or the best things about life, or the things you’ll miss out on if you ever deserved to die. It’s just my experience of not everything being bad.

I am 19. I’ve said that before but I just wanted to make it clear in case you just stumbled on this post. I haven’t had a very long life yet admittedly – but I have lived long enough to understand some things about the world. I think something that can word it better than I ever could is a series of dialogue quotes from one of my favourite movies ‘To the Bone’ –

Ellen: I just don’t see the point.

Dr. William Beckham: In what?

[Ellen shrugs]

Dr. William Beckham: There is no point. Or, at least, big picture, we don’t get to know what it is. Why we live… , why Megan lost the baby… , why that girl killed herself…

Ellen: You’re not reassuring me doctor.

Dr. William Beckham: I can’t reassure you. This idea you have, that there’s a way to be safe, it’s childish and cowardly. It stops you from experiencing anything, including anything good.

Ellen: You don’t think I feel bad enough already? I know I’m messed up, but you’re supposed to teach me how not to be.

Dr. William Beckham: You know how. Stop waiting for life to be easy. Stop hoping for somebody to save you. You don’t need another person lying to you. Things don’t all add up, but you are resilient. Face some hard facts and you could have an incredible life.

Ellen: That’s your pearl of wisdom? Grow a pair?

Dr. William Beckham: That’s a more concise way of putting it. Yeah.

Ellen: Unbelievable. Fuck you!

(thanks IMBd)

-at this part of the movie, Ellen, the protagonist is feeling suicidal and ultimately needs that wake up call to keep her alive. It’s different for everyone. What turns their life around and makes them stop feeling suicidal.

But that piece of dialogue.. it’s the truth I feel. Face the hard facts that bad things will happen and you can have an incredible life because you will know that for every bad thing that happens, a good one is round the corner. We could never 100% truly say why someone died, or why we live, or why someone feels the way they do. But we all have to stop waiting for things to become easier, to become safe. That’s part of why I am trying so hard to allow change into my life.

I have realised through trying to express myself about the negative aspects of the life I have lived that it wasn’t all bad. I mean even today I shared my post ‘breaking up with someone you were never actually with’ (I don’t know how to link it please help me I am a bit of an egg) and I got some really freakin great responses. And listen, there’s only about 15 people following me but I appreciate it, you listen to the ramblings on a Birmingham girl just doing the best she can.

I just want to express that as someone who has been through it all it seems, not everything is awful, and not everything will hurt forever.



However, if someone you know or yourself are feeling like you may hurt yourself or someone else, call the local authority immediately. If you are feeling depressed, anxious or feel as though you may have any other mental health issues please make an appointment with your GP. Here are some useful links –