Monday, 30 January 2012

My Hot Thought.

Have you ever felt your brain self-destruct? Have you wondered why you jump to certain negative conclusions straight away? Maybe you have a hot thought. Have a look online for Cognitive Behavioural Therapy, or try this MoodGYM link.

That bastard reared its ugly head.
A chain reaction had sped its way through my brain, flashing through a set of circumstances where I berate myself for not being X enough, not being Y enough, it's my fault this and that for the way I've made myself.

The thought that has ruled me for longer than I know. The driving power behind every self-destructive notion, word and thing I've thought, said and done, comes down to a single concept. It's dictated my actions for years. It's formed my sentences, made my decisions, pushed me in directions, ruined my opportunities, and generally fucked with my life.

It's a hot thought. It sears through your brain. You can almost smell the charred flesh from where it's branded your skin. Its scars are everywhere.

My hot thought is:
"I am not good enough".

My thought gets everywhere before me. It identifies and turns down opportunities before I even see them. It fucks my head up, it makes other peoples' innocuous actions entirely deliberate and hateful. It taunts me when I bother to try, and it nails me down before I can even start.

In the hardest of times, there's nothing bigger. It's right, I concede. I'm not good enough, why do I bother continuing to live?

In the times where I have leeway, and I can exercise my mind a bit, I can fight back. "Sez who?" I mumble. "What's your proof anyway?"

Sometimes that's enough to get a toehold back. The hot thought's just hot air. I was afraid of getting burnt by the steam, and the heat, but it's got no substance behind it.

My toehold gives me that speck of upward strength. Sometimes I can fire off a counter-attack. "I worked hard on something and they said I did a great job!" I say, "that's even better than good enough!".

That toehold of logic is enough. I build on it day by day. I chart the wins. I rationalise the shit. I lay down proof, gradually, slowly that I am good enough.

I visualise a steamroller of achievements knocking it to the ground, killing it dead. One day that fucker's going to lie down and shut the fuck up, forever.

Friday, 30 December 2011

A poem about saying I Love You

I couldn't sleep, and I kept thinking about the way it feels to tell your lover that you love them. Especially that first time, where you smash through that barrier, and the fragments and shards hang in the air, and time stops moving. Like it's your first truly shared moment. So I wrote a thing. It's raw. Be nice.

I love you
And the world stops
The moment shatters around us
And the fragments sparkle and fall.

I love you
And the world stops
The night breeze is still
And breath stays trapped in our lungs.

I love you
And the world stops
The silent echo bounces
And reverberates, deafeningly, between lips and ears.

I love you
And the world stops
And we become timeless
And we stand, together, for eons

I love you
And the world stops
And the fragments tumble and clatter, and the white noise deafens, and time stands still
But we no longer care, or notice
We just started our own world.