I’m a feminist

I’m a feminist but I imagine washing the dishes in a porcelain sink in a farm house where I cook dinner every night for a man named John or husband.

I’m a feminist but enjoy being cat called as it eases my insecurities whilst wanting to throw punches.

I’m a feminist but shamefully pull down my skirt when it shows too much thigh as I don’t want to look like a slut or asking for it.

I’m a feminist but wish I could afford diet pills because my body equates my worth and right now it’s a bargain bucket.


Im not well.

I’m unwell at the moment, I don’t know where to turn or what is going to happen next. I want to trust my good nature but when I look in the mirror I don’t see myself. I feel the rise and fall in my emotions even when I look back at myself in the mirror with the blankest stare. It’s like there is the giant ball of power in my chest which can only be released by feeling pain and sorrow or a explosion of euphoria. Before it comes I feel the warning and the trickling sense of grandiosity, the lulling hum of my mind. Sometimes I think how I could prevent it and act but sometimes I don’t or nobody listens.

It took me a long time to see the enemy, that enemy is me and my Bipolar.

The answer.

Complacent manner and nobbly knees,

The eyes with no endeavours,

Rummaging in oddities,

His mind was like a end of a tether.

I wonder if he knew how the wind spoke in a riddle,

But ears so closed see little.

Eyes so blind seek answered questions,

But dissemination ends in anchors.

When rivers run free the box which we all feel traps us.

The remit pays to those who understand it’s efforts.

So your boxed in silence speaks in riddles.

Your message is not welcome.

Your knees knock together even in the darkest weather,

When lost blind and deaf in a world filled with more but answers.

You smell.

A doubt

Its impossible to tell what people are thinking, sometimes it’s harder to ask because you know the person will say something which you will struggle to answer. I have found myself in that situation a few times recently be it with friends or at work. I want to be better at consoling people, I want to know what to say to make things better but sometimes you are almost powerless to change things for people. I can’t fix it, I can’t change the rules and sometimes what people want is to harm themselves which I can’t let them do.

Today I’m going to see my friend who is currently a patient on psychiatric ward. She really struggles and I can’t change anything. I wish I could but I enjoy her company and hope that mine helps her a little bit.

Everyone suffers in their own way. I like to remember it, it gives me a sense of self forgiveness.

Is it really worth another breath?

Beneath this smile is a thousand tears hidden from your eyes. Wiped aggressively from my glassy window pains which have been bolted shut from the outside. In between each breath is a thought I cannot carry. Reaching out for the latch to escape. With every wondering gaze I’m wishing I could see what was behind me. Even in my own home I feel fear of a lurking evil prying. I have been trying to think of ways to be normal all day. It took me hours to leave the house today and now I’m out I realise I haven’t eaten anything at all. But I have planned out my route to go back and cook. Can’t break the plan as my stomach twists and dives. So I have to wait. Feeling a guilt and sadness lifting up inside. Pushing down my insanity I focus on the smells of the flowers and the cheers of children playing. Absorbing the wonders of life I find myself paralysed sat on a bench overlooking a beautiful park. The sloping plush green grass, bees zooming effortlessly working hard. I wish I knew what to do today. I envy the bees with their purpose. I have to make plans in my head verified by the crazy person inside. She is me and I am her. From time to time I let her run the show and destroy someone else’s smiles as well as my own. Today I will just sit outside and hope the breeze can lead me away from my suicide.