x Hannah
More writing, everyone. The song embedded is sort of reminiscent of my mood. The #daretowrite challenge is pretty fun, and if you're interested - check it out live here. Maybe you'll help me choose my next prompt.
x Hannah
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Finally got back on my medication. Finally talked to my psychiatrist. I wish I could say I'm relieved but it's a little sick (and shameful) to admit that I'm relieved that I got refills on my medication. Added a new one too, so we'll see how that goes.
Do you know what it felt like to get back on my meds? 10 minutes after I swallowed the small orange and white pills that pretty much guarantee that I can function like a human being, the inside of my head was quiet for the first time in two weeks. For the last two weeks, it felt like I was stuck in the most crowded club you can imagine - being jostled and shoved by people crammed on the dance floor like sardines in a tin. It felt like I couldn't hear anything above the thumping bass line or shouting of other people in the club, and the only way someone could talk to me was to shout in my ear. I was so impulsive. I couldn't control it. If my impulses said 'do it', I probably would. Even though the rational part of my brain, the part that has common sense, would say "this is not an appropriate reaction" or "this is not something we should be doing" - I couldn't stop myself from reacting a certain way or doing things because everything was so intense. It was insane. On a less depressing note, I've written three new prompts for the #daretowrite challenge. They're written below, and you can always check things out on my Tumblr for more insight into my head. x Hannah
Hey guys, it's been a while.
I have a couple of new projects that I'm working on, but I hope you've been checking out my writing at The Level MY. I'm excited to tell you about my next project, but it'll be some time before I can talk about it. On the other hand, I've gone super blonde recently - which you can check out on my Instagram. Tell me your thoughts? In terms of writing, I'm participating in the inkstay Dare To Write challenge, which I'll be posting here and on my Tumblr. Follow me, and let me know! Of course, some of these things might be a bit trigger-y, because my recent diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder has been getting to me. That's for another post, though. x Hannah daretowrite prompt: lazarus every time feels like a rebirth but then again, when does it not? I come back a little less human every time I am agony and screaming I am alive under duress it’s a revamp of my personality like installing a new OS or upgrading systems but it’s not. I never quite like who or what I am. I never really have. I’m waiting for the day I stop having to rebuild myself or maybe, I’m waiting for everything to just stop.
01. they made me and they hated me
may I taste the salt of your skin? I want to feel your teeth cut into me are you warm-blooded, because I’m cold again. they’ve made a monster out of me and bloody, I am still unbowed I may be broken, but my shards still slice I’ve seen boys cut their palms open when they hold me too close they told me I’m fucked up and I know I am, I just I looked at love with reverence, but I don’t believe anymore I wanted clean simplicity and look where that got me a mouth full of blood and torn off wings hah. it’d be hilarious if it didn’t still hurt 02. collared flesh you know, I still remember hands tangled in my hair - this flesh memory is very vivid. I might have a choker around my neck but I am anything but collared there’s a touch of madness in the eyes, wildness you were drawn to it. 03. mania I can’t drown it out the manic phases, I know it’s a swing I know it’s an upward shift and the crash will be catastrophe but I’m running with it I can roll with the punches it’s what I do. this is my brain chemistry, right? and there’s the modern alchemy to make me normal but normal is a setting on a dryer and it’s not for me, not for fucking me hate the fucking clarity, so where’s the booze I miss the haze, miss the colours is anyone else seeing this shit? written between 5:30am - 6:30am, today. the night isn't kind to me and my brain hates me. it feels like that most of the time and I've asked whatever (benevolent?) higher being up there "why the fuck did you make me like this?" and considering I haven't gotten any answers, I feel like I move closer to the edge with every passing day. someone offered to help me, and in my drunken state (batman-styled brooding) - I almost threw a glass at him. it's not that I don't want help, but there are days I don't think I deserve help. I was off my meds on that day. recently, an ex-boyfriend that I'm still on (relatively) good terms with reminded me of some of the stunts I've pulled over the course of us dating and I feel like a terrible person. I know I was different then, and I'm trying my fucking hardest now - but being empty sucks, lacking intimacy sucks and I feel like I sound like a whining, angsty 15 year old all over again. why am I like this? this is a mask I've put on; a facade
you know this. this is why I choose to associate with people who aren't normal, people who can see past the mask maybe they can fix me, maybe they can break me again I wouldn't know. I don't know anything anymore. sometimes, I'm just empty and that leaves me with an ache, wishing I could feel sometimes, I feel too much and I'm clawing at my skin, begging for it to stop I think about the trauma, I think about my experiences I know other people have it worse I know this isn't much in the greater scheme of things I keep telling myself that, but I'm nowhere near altruistic I keep looping back and forth between wanting and hating myself for wanting please has never been a word I liked, my pride wouldn't allow it and now all I am is a series of apologies between my manic upswings and the crash afterwards I'm so tired. I want to rest. I want to stop. can I stop being yet? Written at 3:30am It wasn't a great night, but I don't usually write when I'm happy anyway. I've churned out a few articles, hopefully they get published when everyone wakes up. I was manic earlier but now I've sort of dropped. It doesn't feel good at all. It wasn't the happiest of nights, admittedly. My personal demons can get overwhelming, and when that happens - it's rough on me.
sometimes / I think I’m empty / I think I’m hollow / I keep looking for things I don’t understand / it’s a lack / a loss? / did I lose part of myself a long time ago? / I don’t know anymore / you know, someone said this to me / he said that for someone so smart / I said I don’t know a lot / I was 18 / he was 20 / I didn’t know any better / and he threw me across the room / something cracked that day, it wasn’t just my spine / something broke inside me, maybe / I don’t know, but / I know that something inside ached for something more / almost like / I want to demand the happy ending / but the world doesn’t owe me anything / and I know this / I know this / I keep trying to remind myself of this / but somehow / I keep hoping / I keep getting disappointed / I keep breaking Written yesterday, during an anxiety attack. Hey - I complete the writer trifecta, apparently, and at least I'm not ashamed of this one.
i. it's 4am and you're tired your eyes are heavy, but you're scared the monsters are loud tonight you feel their claws scraping at you you hear their teeth in your ear your heart is heavy, and you know you're dying for a little rest tonight ii. it's 5:30am and your vision is blurry you almost hit a divider, and you don't care you're going 130 km/h and you wish you could die, almost you're so uncomfortable in your own skin you want to tear it off you want to rest iii. it's 7am and you're in his bed you want him to say the words you're terrified that he doesn't want you you know he doesn't need you but being needed means you have a purpose he doesn't say it, you don't ask sleep doesn't come easy iv. it's 11:20am and you're awake your eyes jolt open at the sound of people talking, walking outside the door you just want to go back to sleep he's warm and he's next to you you close your eyes and bury your face in the pillows you don't dream v. it's noon and you wake up he's on the phone and his voice is soft he never sounds like that with you and all you can think about is how you're just a replacement and you're not important because he says he'll be there in half an hour so you get up, and you shut down I performed during the July edition of "If Walls Could Talk", a local poetry open mic held at Gaslight Cafe. I managed to perform two pieces, and a couple of people came up to me and wanted to know more about my writing - thus this site. I figured it'd be better to consolidate all my personal writing in an attempt to be more organised.
I'm also learning how to Bullet Journal (#bujo, as the community puts that), so we'll see how that goes. So, to avoid more rambling on about my life - here are the two pieces I performed in their entirety. 1. [there's something wrong with my programming] you know what she said when she saw me? / "she was made not born" / I think she's right / I think I'll never get that sentence / out of my head/ I'm slowly going out of my mind / and truthfully, I'm an artificial kind of monster / a stitched together soul / in the golden body of an angel / wide eyes and soft lips / perfect pasted on smile / but dead eyes / cold eyes / lifeless eyes / fake spark in them that you can see / or maybe it's the other way around / swinging hips and swinging fists / nails like talons and sharp teeth / blood red lips and a cruel smile / I'm not a machine / but why did you make me / why is there something wrong with me? / why don't the pieces fit right? / why don't I work right? / why why why / why did you name me grace when you made me savage / why did you do this? / WHAT AM I? 2. 金繕い (kintsukuroi) marks are purple, blue, red yellow and green when they're healing there's a rainbow on my skin and it's the most beautiful I've been in a long time my vision goes red with rage, at myself, at the world, at everything orange and yellow remind me of sunsets that'll never be mine again, of evening views from 10 storey buildings green and blue like the ocean I wished I could sink beneath, waves of emotion that drown me in the thoughts inside my stupid, broken brain indigo twilight, nights spent alone with the mingled scents of dying flowers, roses and violets pressed between books I read aloud to myself in an attempt to silence the voices in my head I wanted to dream of you in colours I've never seen before, a spectrum of things I could only imagine I want you to kiss me until my lips bruise, until my teeth cut against the inside of my mouth I want an imprint of you there, so maybe I'll remember to feel real when I feel like nothing and I feel nothing, sometimes. I wish I could feel something something good, something pure, something clean something that makes me feel better than empty, something that fills up the broken spaces in between the cracks that other people have left, something other than the angst and bitterness that threaten to eclipse everything so kiss me, mark me, in an attempt to mend these cracks with gold |
Hannah azlan5'2" hurricane in human form. Committed to the #aesthetic life, I write about anything and everything. Welcome to my writing blog. Categories
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