I confess

The drugs just aren’t doing it for me,
chemical sleep has lost its appeal
and I confess, I considered tonight
that it might be easier just not to feel.

To slip away, to take a bow,
Admit defeat and fall from my grace
and would you miss me, would you notice;
how long would it take to forget my face?

You forgot me once, you can do it again,
after all, this is only a release
breaking free from the prison we built together
in the hope, of maybe, one night of peace.

I confess, this is serious,
and if I had the strength I would leave tonight
I wish I was brave, that I wouldn’t miss you
that this time I could really give up the fight.

An empty bottle in front of me,
and pills I know I’ll never take
just further proof of my personal failings
evidence of the depression I could never shake.

Another scar to my collection,
a canvas I paint to remind me of you
to prove this reality was never a nightmare
but a waking hell, which I’m still going through.

I confess, it would be so easy,
Just a slip of the hand, just one step too far
but I’m not brave, I feel too afraid
to let myself go, to reopen these scars.

Yet I fantasise of how easy it would be,
for you to live your life without me there
I confess I think of setting you free
sometimes it’s the only way that ever seems fair.

If I left today, would you notice?
Would you realise, I did this for you?
If I slipped away past an exit sign,
would you see it as failure, or something I needed to do?

I try to remember every word you ever said,
the times you loved me, the times you were sweet
I confess, I want to forget
to make this easier for me to leave.

But how can I go when you hold me like that;
when you whisper so quietly only I can hear?
I confess, you keep me from dying,
from collapsing under the weight of my fears.


“Suicide” is a word I don’t like typing. It’s such a final solution, and the word itself makes me feel uncomfortable about the actions I’ve taken in the past. I may occasionally mention my flirts with causing my own death, but I try not to go into much detail because, in truth, I’m ashamed.

I’m ashamed to know I even tried, mostly over such trivial things. New colleges and threats of break-ups. Arguments with my mother. They seem such petty reasons but back then I couldn’t judge whether an incident was serious or minor, and everything felt like a horrific attack on everything I am. The panic and psychosis (for there was psychosis; hallucinations and imagined conversations) drove me into a ball of fear and confusion and, somehow, I decided that suicide was the only logical answer to a world of horror. 

Last week, a man lay down on the train tracks between my house and Z’s, and killed himself. I heard the sirens and saw sketchy details appear on Facebook, but I still can’t let myself accept that somebody was in so much torment that they felt the only way to solve it was to climb over the barriers as traffic waited at the crossing, and wait for the train to hit; somebody just a couple of roads away from where I was sitting was going through something most people never – thankfully – have to experience.

I find myself wondering what he was like; why he felt he had to take that step, and do something so damn final. I wish I’d had the chance to know him, somehow.

Under constellations

Constellations, satellites,
once again I am alone tonight,
a sleepless wish, a dreamless prayer
needing nothing more than for you to be there.
A broken heart, a forgotten vow,
the realisation I dont have you now,
I leave the cold tears on my face,
because I know I’m alone in my disgrace.

Cigarettes burn, ashes fall,
tonight I feel impossibly small,
my limits are pushed and my hands aren’t my own,
under constellations, entirely alone.
A pen in my hand, blue ink on my fingers,
I try to push it away but this image of you lingers,
I can still feel your body, I can still taste your breath,
I can hear your voice telling me how you loved me to death.

But the satellites no longer guide me home
I dont hear your voice on the telephone,
just a memory
of your kiss,
your touch,
just maybe…
I loved you too much.

(c) 2008.

Not one of my favourites at all, but this poem was written – like others in 2008 – during a time when I was falling apart entirely. I don’t know how much of my relationship failings to blame on BPD, and how much is just the result of me being entirely incompetent. I have always loved too much. Too strongly. I love with an iron grip; twisting my way around a person entirely so they can never escape. Each boyfriend has been The One, without a doubt. I’ve loved them entirely, with every ounce of my body and soul. Handed over money to fund their habits, because giving gifts means receiving more love. 

Shrugged off affairs and one night stands. Forgiven each and every man who cheated on me. Accepted it, so long as he didn’t ever leave me. It hurt – oh, it hurt like hell – but I simply couldn’t stand to lose somebody so close to me. Even if it meant sharing them. 

I needed. I wanted. I grasped. There’s a song by James called Tomorrow, which has lyrics which sum it up perfectly:

“Now your grip’s too strong, you can’t catch love with a net or a gun”

I’ve attempted to catch love using any means possible. Self-harm. Starvation. Begging. Tearing chunks of hair out as proof of my distress. Clinging to his arm even as he walks out of the door. Refusing to leave. Refusing to move. Refusing to get out of bed. Refusing to accept it’s over. 

I’ve destroyed a lot of lives.

Painfully Breaking

Talking to myself,
the last retreat of the crazy.

Drowning out the sound,
the voice of my heart breaking.

The aching,
I can’t explain
where life has led me,
why everything
is so far away.

My mouth can only speak to myself.

I scream
in silence.

(c) 2008.


A motorbike speeds in the distance,
it’s 1am and my thoughts are of you.

Wind blows chimes and my cigarette
as I stand by the window.

I belong here tonight.

A minor crime, a minor slip,
it’s nothing compared to the promise I still keep.

Cars find their way home,
neighbours sleep,
and I stand vigil once more.

Pages of letters,
words I wrote and emotions I felt.

The cold air keeps me awake,
and I lean on the frame as this town says goodnight.

Do I belong?

Questions I ask myself.

Am I still a child,
despite all my efforts?

(c) 2008

Twenty Three

If I could say these words aloud,
would you understand
that I’m still afraid?

feeling I’ve stepped back ten years.

If I could speak to myself,
thirteen, naive,
would I ever understand I would always be insecure?

So many words,
and I’m yet to find any answers.

If I could be with you now,
hold your face in my hands and bring it close to mine,
would you see my fear?

Losing this,
is something I can’t contemplate like you do.

If I could stop time for myself,
ten years from now, would I have moved on
from this behaviour?

Or would I still be here,
constantly moving backwards ten years?

(c) 2008.

Breaking, Not Bending

In this flawed existence,
In this story with no end
You met with my resistance
– You thought it might bend.
I confess, I left it loose
I left a hole shaped for you
I opened up past my comfort zone
but I never thought you’d break through.

Scaring myself with ugly thoughts
Painful dreams beyond my control
I chanced a look at your face, your eyes
but everything I saw became so cold.
Icy hands, freezing my skin
Your snowstorm lips upon my cheek
Fingers like icicles upon my back
But all I felt was the beating

My heart trapped in my mouth
Consuming my empty, worthless words
How can I ever walk away now,
how can I pretend I never cared?

In this scarred persistence
My story with no happy ending
I regret opening myself quite so wide
Because I’m now breaking, and not bending.
Your fingers twisted around mine
Heavy arms across my chest
My skin on fire, our blood pumping
And my heart –

In this solitary corner
Where the story never ends
You met me like we’d never known each other
You expected me to bend.
And I confess, I wanted you
I opened up a tiny door
Ignored your dirty fingers if it meant
You’d lift me up off the floor.
I expected you to save me
I knew you’d have the key
The wrong thing to want, the wrong thing to need
The beating

And now here I stand, alone
My every moment up until this day
Turns to nothing when you look at me
In your sweet and silent way.
I laid myself bare before you
Closed my eyes but you opened them wide
Whispered ‘I love you’s’ in the dark
And always the pain inside.

A thousand whispered ‘if only’s’
If only things could stay just the same
…You wouldn’t have changed.

Not bending.

(c) 2008.