ella @postapocalypticeuphoria - Tumblr Blog

the complexity of being a human being living with a traumatised brain

my trauma has made me complex. this isn't to say that human beings aren't complex in general, but it has made me complex in a way that I can no longer understand or recognise. I feel like I am living inside a paradox: a brain that was strong enough to survive something so harrowing, yet tries to take me out at every given opportunity. safety within my own body is something I was robbed of long ago, and I don't feel it is something I can get back

I have found myself trying to forgive what happened, but I don't feel I will ever be in a position to forgive. I was never given an apology, so why would I forgive what happened? my acceptance of what happened does not equate to apathy, and I will forever be angry and hurt about it. I sometimes feel I am making myself worse by allowing myself to feel so negatively, but I don't feel I am able to derive any positives

despite me coming away from what happened with my life still intact, I still feel as though my life was taken. not in a physical sense; but the life I had the potential to live will never see the light of day, because of the actions of one person. I could've been brilliant, but instead I fear I will always be sat in the dark, ruminating on what could have been had that night gone differently

survival hasn't made me stronger, it hasn't changed me for the better, it hasn't done me the amount of good people keep trying to tell me it has. I never needed to be made stronger and more resilient, I was sixteen. I was a child, a young girl robbed of her early womanhood who had to watch everyone around her do things she could only dream of being able to do

even after surviving what I did, it has left me with feelings on unfulfillment with everything I do. if that night had never happened, where would I be now? how different my life could have been where managing to leave the house wasn't considered an achievement. and despite all my efforts, I am still alive almost nine years later, living a life that feels disorganised and as if it were thrown at me.

I thought survival would make me feel gratitude for everything ,but instead I feel filled with dread at the thought of living another 50, 60, 70 years feeling the way I do. I had no intention of living to see 18, then 21, then 25, now here we are. I feel like I am floating through an incomplete story timeline that the writers haven't finished writing yet. picturing myself in 5 years time feels like a momentous task: how am I supposed to picture a life I never planned on living?

complexity can be beautiful, it makes the world and the people in it more interesting. my complexity is not something I ever wanted, it was something thrust upon me by a person I did not know, who committed an act so evil that I can't bring myself to think about it. yet, my brain takes it upon itself to make sure I think about it daily, for reason unknown to me. because trauma has made me too complex to understand

#ptsd #trauma #mental health #world mental health day #anxiety #depression

blue

blue has been with me for years.

she is there when i get up in the morning. she watched as i brush my teeth and get dressed. she sits next to me on the bus. she walks everywhere with me, i am never without blue.

through the day, she is quieter. she doesn’t like to talk about herself to people. she is scared they’ll hate her for who she really is. i tell her if they hate her then they’ll hate me. but she doesn’t listen.

blue comes home with me. she lies next to me in my bed. she plays with my hair as we lie and stare out of the window. she sits next to me at the dinner table, watching me eat.

at night, she talks to me. she tells me she will never leave me, she will always be with me.

blue tells me i only need her. i do not need other people in my life, she is enough.

blue tells me that i am not enough. blue watches as i hate myself, as i cause myself pain in ways i would never wish upon another person.

blue is the one wrapping my hand around the knife, saying i was the one holding it and this is my fault.

this is all my fault.

blue tells me no one loves me, and no one will ever love me. she tells me i don’t deserve love, and anyone who dares try to love me will leave. only she will stay.

i do not know who i am without blue, and therefore i fear her leaving. though unhealthily, blue and i are connected.

and i am scared one day she’ll leave me too

#blue #anxiety #depression #mental health #suicide #poem #poetry #original poetry #depression poem #blue poem

postapocalypticeuphoria

tick

i see my life as a clock

seconds go by, some feel really long if you look at the clock at just the right moment

some feel as though they’re going by faster than normal

then they all accumulate into bigger segments

but no matter how long or short they are

i cannot turn away from the clock

i can’t ignore the clock, i can’t ignore the ticking of the hands

i can’t look away as the ticking slowly gets louder

and i feel myself leaving my body

it echoes

my brain rattles as the ticking gets louder and the clock gets bigger

they loom, i am faced with something much bigger than myself

yet i am expected to cope, expected to deal with it

i hear nothing else but the ticking, it has my focus

yet i can’t help but feel that by focusing on the ticking each second

i am missing the minutes as they silently slip by

i forget the hours, for the ticking seconds are louder

my brain forcing me to think about what happens when the ticking stops

one day this ticking will stop

the clock will display the wrong time

never to be changed again

and suddenly, that ticking sound is comforting

because as long as it’s still there, so am i

caneviim-deactivated20251222

i stare at the stars at night and can’t help but wonder if someone else os staring at those same stars from light years away wondering the same thoughts as me

#stars #night #night sky #poem #poetry #quote #stargazing

mental illness scares me, but the idea of being mentally healthy scares me more

i do not know myself if i am not broken

i do not know who i am whole

so how am i to feel comfortable with being something i cannot remember?

my life before being broken is a blur. it has been too long for me to accurately remember how it feels to feel good. to have a day where i dont feel an agonising pain in my chest.

if i were to stop taking my meds, would that make me who i am? who i am destined to be?

do they act as a veil for others more than they act as an aid for me? do they make me more bearable to be around? more of an enjoyable energy in the room?

if this is feeling better, then why do i not feel better?

why do i feel at all

#anxiety #depression #mental health #suicide #poetry #poem #depression poetry #original poem #poemsbyme #depressing poem #mental illness #world mental health day

tick

i see my life as a clock

seconds go by, some feel really long if you look at the clock at just the right moment

some feel as though they’re going by faster than normal

then they all accumulate into bigger segments

but no matter how long or short they are

i cannot turn away from the clock

i can’t ignore the clock, i can’t ignore the ticking of the hands

i can’t look away as the ticking slowly gets louder

and i feel myself leaving my body

it echoes

my brain rattles as the ticking gets louder and the clock gets bigger

they loom, i am faced with something much bigger than myself

yet i am expected to cope, expected to deal with it

i hear nothing else but the ticking, it has my focus

yet i can’t help but feel that by focusing on the ticking each second

i am missing the minutes as they silently slip by

i forget the hours, for the ticking seconds are louder

my brain forcing me to think about what happens when the ticking stops

one day this ticking will stop

the clock will display the wrong time

never to be changed again

and suddenly, that ticking sound is comforting

because as long as it’s still there, so am i

#poetry #poem #clock poem #tick #indie #grunge #writing #anonymous #poetsandwriters #life #tw existential #existential dread #existential horror

alleycatboy

maybe i can gaslight myself into being okay

alleycatboy

wait this is just cognitive behavioral therapy

my latest drawing

rue and jules - euphoria

first time using pencil colours to sketch zendaya

i just wanna feel something good

depressed.

that word. that damn word. 9 letters that carry such a colossal meaning. the overuse of this word has diminished its meaning. let me explain to you what it means to be a depressed person.

the best way i can describe depression is feeling everything and nothing all at once. it’s feeling so overwhelmed with every emotion that you don't actually know which emotions you're feeling. it’s like holding your breath but never feeling the water. it’s confusion, anger, heartbreak, sadness and hysteria. it’s everything and nothing all at once. you can't explain how you feel because you don't know the answer yourself, so you keep quiet, because you don’t want people to worry.

your days merge in to one. one minute its monday the next it’s thursday and you have no recollection of the days in between. it’s not knowing the date for days on end because the term days doesn't mean anything anymore. it’s ignoring the sunlight for the darkness of your room.

it’s not eating because you don't feel hungry. it’s overindulging because you want to feel something. it’s sleeping for 12+ hours each day. it’s not sleeping for more than 4 hours a night. its crying, fear, isolation. its not messaging your friends back but still scrolling through social media because you have no energy to do anything else.

h o w e v e r

it’s also going out everyday, whether that be to work, school or to see friends. it’s cracking jokes endlessly. it’s carrying out a normal daily routine as if nothing is wrong. it falling asleep on monday and waking up on tuesday. it’s smiling. it’s feeling. it’s everything and nothing.

depression doesn’t have a type. it doesn’t have a face. it doesn’t have a particular appearance. it can be the most obvious thing in the world or almost invisible. but however it is shown through the person who’s life its controlling does not mean a depressed person who appears happy is less depressed than someone who ‘appears’ depressed. depression is a mental illness, not a look. it’s not an adjective to throw in as a replacement for feeling ‘sad’. its real and it sucks.